#i should figure out a set tag for these kinds of things

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

charming and good: dr prism and solaris, both being ex-zoraxis operatives who don't feel safe enough to turn to the agency, working together post the events of 3 to pursue their crafts without death or capture looming above their necks

charming and evil: solaris- through prism- learns that anna is alive, and immediately drops everything she is doing to find her and tear her limb from limb for being the catalyst to the destruction of her death engine

[spencerreidenjoyer]

we've already done it in my head | spencer reid x reader

You have fantasies about Spencer, and you feel bad about it when you have to see him at work. Thing is, he has fantasies about you too.

wc: 4.8k, rating: explicit

tags/warnings: professor!spencer, post prison!spencer, bau!reader, fem!reader, sexual fantasies, masturbation, daddy kink, getting together, hookups, friends with benefits (?), mentions of public sex/exhibitionism (they don't actually do it), fucking with feelings but neither of them really realise it yet lol...

a/n: i am insane and that's all i'll say about this fic. jk i started this at the top of the month and i'm glad i've finally finished it. this was such a crazy one to work on, aside from being swamped with school work. thank you to my lovely friend from twitter vic who kept encouraging me to work on this hehe. inspired heavily by taylor swift's guilty as sin? (obviously) and chappell roan's picture you just for those horny yearning vibes yknow? please enjoy this insanity!!! (crossposted to ao3)

Spencer rushes in from the university when Emily calls. It’s a serious case, one that Emily decides Spencer needs to be pulled away from his teaching for. She doesn’t feel good doing it – the whole team knows how important teaching is to Spencer, but he understands all the same when he comes into the round table room. Spencer sits down at the last empty seat next to you, his hair a mess as he sets down his things and flips open the case file. He turns to smile at you, before Penelope starts the case brief.

It’s a long, tiring day of work after landing in California, the BAU having been called in to investigate the murders of young moms in the area, and you need a glass of wine and a nice hot bath to even fathom everything you’ve seen today.

You should just turn in for the night, the Bureau being particularly kind with their budget as you all get individual rooms. Your drowsiness should put you fast to sleep, but your mind is racing with thoughts of Spencer.

Spencer’s been in his nice suit all day, filling out his shirt nicely. You’ve noticed his stubble growing in, and his hair is messy and gorgeous. You can’t help yourself for feeling this way, as guilty as you feel about it. You’ve been harbouring your crush on Spencer for way too long, in the couple of years since you joined the BAU. Spencer is a sight for sore eyes for sure, but his kind gentleness despite the horrors of what you all do for work is a welcome reprieve. 

While his sweet nature was what had you falling for him in the first place, Spencer could be extremely sexy, even if he didn’t know it. 

Today was especially tough for you. You and Spencer were sent in to interrogate a particularly uncooperative suspect, playing into the good cop-bad cop dynamic. Your coaxing wasn’t doing anything, and Spencer had ended up raising his voice in an attempt to intimidate them. He’d slammed his hand on the table, a loud clang against the metal, and his large figure only served to crowd the suspect in to scare them further.

You only got to know Spencer after the mess that was him getting wrongly sent to prison, but Spencer supposedly wasn’t like this before prison. Still, you found Spencer’s quiet intimidation incredibly attractive, and you had to keep your composure in the interrogation room earlier.

And your mind drifts to Spencer from earlier, his rough callousness with the suspect, his glare wild and intimidatingly sexy, you end up thinking about him.

About Spencer, who is so kind and sweet with you and the rest of the team, seeming like he couldn’t hurt a fly. 

About Spencer who could also be domineering and intimidating. He seems like he’d only pull it out if you asked, but the duality has you hot under the collar. 

Your eyes slip shut, mind swirling with thoughts of Spencer, about having him all to yourself, about him wanting you. 

About his large hands on you, making you feel so small under his firm grasp. 

About him pinning you down on the hard, cool metal of the table in the interrogation room. 

About him caging you in with his arms, the look in his eyes almost crazed and full of lust for you. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, before Spencer kisses you fervently. His stubble is rough against your skin, but you don’t care. Spencer kisses you like he’s a starved man and you’re his next meal, with such desperation that you feel weak in the knees.

“You’re gorgeous,” Spencer says. He kisses your jaw, down your neck, and his large hands are all over your body. You feel so secure in his grasp, he feels you up and drinks his fill of you. He gropes your tits, your thighs, your ass, manhandling you into spreading your legs, so he can press the hardness of his cock to your cunt. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper, fully indulging in this wet dream as you slide a hand into your underwear. “Spencer,” you gasp.

“You’re so hot, you make me feel crazy,” Spencer hums, rolling his hips against you. You’re separated between layers of fabric, but Spencer humping you like this turns you on to no end. 

You rub at your clit in tight little circles, your wetness aiding the slide as you get yourself off to the thought of Spencer.

“Spence,” you moan, frustrated. While Spencer’s hardness grinding against you is literally a dream, you want to imagine his cock buried inside of you. You’re perfectly capable of moving this along, so you do. 

Magically, Spencer’s clothes are off and so are yours, the perks of a fantasy being that you don’t have to awkwardly stumble through taking your clothes off. You have a hazy picture of what he’d look like naked in front of you. You imagine toned muscle, a slight pudge to his tummy from his time in prison, his pecs filled out nicely. You imagine his cock would be pretty, as pretty as he is, veiny and thick and all sorts of perfect. 

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby,” Spencer groans, the blunt head of his cock pressed up against you now. He rubs off against you, sliding over your clit, your folds, over the wetness leaking from your whole. “Gonna fuck you so good, just like you deserve.”

Without hesitation, Spencer’s cock slips into you, the perfect thickness to make you feel full as he slides in inch by inch. 

You slip your fingers into yourself, aided by how impossibly wet you are just at the thought of Spencer, and your groan weakly. Two fingers aren’t enough, not when you bet Spencer could fill you up, like he’d split you in half on his cock. 

He pushes into you until he’s pressed flush against you, buried inside of you to the hilt. He starts to pound into you, like he’s uncaring of what you need, but the way he treats you turns you on impossibly.

Your fingers aren’t enough to satiate you, but you thrust them in and out of you in an effort to mimic how Spencer fucking you might feel. You moan, a little louder than you’d like.

“Spence–” you gasp, in your fantasy. It should be scandalous, Spencer taking you over the table in the interrogation room. You don’t know if the thought of people being behind the one-way mirror turns you on or not – being watched, letting Spencer take you in front of everybody. You like the thought of Spencer being so obsessed with you, so desperate, needing to fuck you right where you work.

The metal table is cool and harsh against your hips, but you don’t care if it hurts as Spencer fucks you relentlessly, quickly taking on a brutal pace. It’s exactly what you need, what you want Spencer to do with you, being rough and frantic enough to make you scream his name.

You whimper his name under your breath, bashful even while in your fantasy. 

Spencer has you pinned down, but it’s not like you intend to get away. You want to savour this even if it’s only in your mind, shameful as you’re getting off to the thought of your coworker. You just need this out of your system, need Spencer out of your system, and then tomorrow you can face him like a normal, well-adjusted person. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, palm grinding against your clit, fingers pressed inside of yourself. You’re shaking, with the thought of Spencer fucking you until you can’t take it anymore, the ideal of him in your mind too perfect, until you’re moaning into your hand as you orgasm. You sob, clenching tight around your fingers, feeling your slick gush out as you ride your high.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but after both a long day and a crazy good orgasm, you end up passing out with a tissue clenched in your hand, with your panties and sleep shorts kicked off to the foot of the bed.

---

Spencer can’t stop thinking about you.

He shouldn’t, not when you’re his coworker and also one of the people he’s friendliest with in the unit. 

Spencer would say he couldn’t bring himself to trust many, especially after coming out of prison, but you were the one he warmed up to the easiest. A new face in the BAU wasn’t uncommon, but Spencer had found himself drawn to you. You were kind and warm to him fresh out of prison, your tenderness a welcome reprieve as he’d gotten accustomed to being back at the BAU. With your intellect and quick wit, matched with your beauty, Spencer could not help but be attracted to you – but that’s besides the point. 

Spencer knows how much your friendship with him means to you, and he’s certain that that’s all you see him as: a friend. 

Yet, he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in those pants. Those pants that hug your curves just right. Those pants that make your ass look great – not that he was looking – especially when you’re leaning over an interrogation table, trying to play the good cop with the suspect from earlier.

Spencer had hung back, trying to get a read on the suspect while you spoke to him. Him getting to ogle your figure and stare at how good you looked in those pants was unintentional, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. 

Spencer only felt a bit bad wrapping his hand around himself in the shower, mind flooded with thoughts of you. Water, almost scorching, running down his body, his hand moves fast and reckless, exhaling harshly as he gets himself off. 

He can’t get you out of his mind, your gorgeous figure, your pretty face, your wide eyes and thick thighs and soft lips – he shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. You were a coworker, a friend, for God’s sake, and yet he can’t stop imagining you under him. 

He can’t stop imagining pressing you against the table in the interrogation room – your lithe frame underneath him, making you look so small, making him feel so big. 

He presses his growing problem to your perfect ass, watching you writhe underneath him. You keep looking back up at him, with your wide, wet eyes and your flushed cheeks, looking like you need him to give you exactly what you need.

“Please, daddy,” you whine, and Spencer is groaning and undoing his belt before your pants get pushed down too. Stroking his cock quickly, Spencer easily finds his way to your entrance, wet and dripping with your slick. He pushes into you, pressing kisses to your neck as you groan with the intrusion. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Spencer coos at you. Spencer feels you press yourself back up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and he loses all sense of control as he starts to fuck you hard. He feels like a madman, unable to hold himself back as he takes and takes and takes, fucking into your tight wetness, his head spinning with how good you feel around him. 

You’re whining and moaning under him, your noises music to Spencer’s ears as they echo off the walls. Your cunt is wet and sloppy as Spencer fucks you, wanting to give you everything you need and more.

“Fuck, baby,” Spencer groans, his hand tightly fisted around his cock. The way the tip of his cock leaks is easing the slide, as he pictures in crystal-clear detail how your cunt would draw him in, slick and messy be fucks into your perfect, tight cunt. “You’re too good to me.”

“Daddy,” you sob, your hands clawing down Spencer’s back. Spencer gropes you greedily through your clothes, grabs your tits and feels his fill of your waist, your perfect ass, your thighs as he rocks himself back and forth between them. 

“Gonna cum inside of you, love,” Spencer grunts, his pace unrelenting. His hands are on your thighs, gripping you tight, both fucking into you and dragging you onto his cock over and over. “You’re gorgeous. Gonna make a mess of you.”

You’re whining underneath him, making him feel too good, as you clench around him tight and moan even louder. Spencer can’t help himself, thrusting into you hard and fast and eager until he’s cumming.

He spills into his hand, the thick white ropes of his cum washed down the drain with the spray of the shower from above him. Visions of you flash through his mind, your gorgeous frame, your pretty face, your mouth on his. 

He’s barely towelled off before he’s knocked out in his bed, too tired to even process feeling guilty about jerking off to you. 

---

Sure, perhaps it’s childish to try and avoid Spencer all day, especially when you have an active case all of you need to be working on. You must be a fool to think that getting yourself off to Spencer would help, because all you can think about is your fantasies of him last night, how you imagined him bending you over and taking you– Not helping, you remind yourself.

Emily must secretly be on your side or be able to read your mind or something, because Spencer is relegated to work on geographic profiles and speed-read through case files back at the police precinct, while you get sent out onto the field to chase down your killer. 

But you can’t avoid Spencer forever, and you aren’t any good at it either. You feel like Spencer’s eyes are on you the whole day when you and him are in the same room, but you never look up at him to find out. While you could chalk up your nerves to a serial killer still being out on the streets, you don’t have any more excuses at the end of the day when you’ve finally caught him, and the team decides to get dinner to celebrate.

You purposely wedge yourself between JJ and Emily when you sit down at the table, trying to avoid Spencer, and you think you’re successful with getting away with seeming a little out-of-it when you end up slipping away early, claiming you had a rough sleep last night.

You’ve barely settled down in your hotel room for the night, finally feeling like you can relax, when there’s a knock at your door. You have no clue who it could be, but you open the door, and–

There Spencer is. 

“Hi,” you say curtly, feeling embarrassment wash over you all of a sudden, because all you can think about is getting off to the thought of him last night. You feel your cheeks warm, but you hope it’s not obvious that you’re blushing. Then, in an attempt to seem somewhat normal and well-adjusted, you add, “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that,” Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What’s up with you today?”

You press your lips together in a thin line before you say, “Nothing’s up. I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Spencer prods, his head cocking to the side as he deadpans. “You know I can read you like an open book. Something’s up.”

You frown, Spencer stoking the flames of brattiness in you. “Yeah? Tell me what’s the matter, if you can read me so well.”

Spencer’s eyes widen slightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“I- I thought we said no inter-group profiling,” Spencer says, his voice a little weak, and for the first time, you see Spencer look a little helpless. It’s kind of hot. 

Do you make him… nervous?

“Yeah, but if you insist on thinking something’s up with me…” You shrug, smiling. Spencer just blinks at you.

No. You couldn’t possibly entertain the thought. 

Spencer clears his throat. You watch him fidget with his hands just slightly, before he puts them by his sides to seem confident. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me, on purpose or not – both attest to your desire to avoid me somewhat. You could barely look me in the eye all day, which means you might be embarrassed or guilty of something, likely having to do with me.” Spencer says, his voice even, but he isn’t looking at you. 

You raise your eyebrows. His explanation is both specific and vague, and you feel slightly called out and safe from his scrutiny at the same time. But, you can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something more to Spencer’s words, the way he’s looking at you like he hopes you can’t pick his brain apart. 

So, you turn it back onto him, “Then, what do you think is the problem? You aren’t looking at me either, and you were fidgeting with your hands. Is something up with you, then? It almost sounds like you’re projecting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer freezes, like he’s a deer caught in headlights. You can practically see his brain running a mile a minute, overthinking every possible outcome, overly self-aware of himself, his actions, his thoughts.

You try to stop yourself from smiling, because Spencer is kind of cute like this. “You wanna tell me what it is then, Reid?” 

“When did this become about me?” Spencer squeaks, his usually cool facade quickly disappearing. There’s a look in Spencer’s eyes, as he nervously looks you up and down, and oh– “I just– Well, I– You–”

“I’m thinking we might be on the same page, here,” you say, smirking. “Wanna tell me what it is?”

Spencer furrows his brows, his mouth agape as he looks up at you, but you’re putting your hand on his chest and trailing it down slowly. “Oh–”

“Tell me, Dr. Reid,” you cock your head, eyeing him up and down lazily. When you look at Spencer’s face, he’s shocked, enamoured and turned-on all in one. 

“You’re… attracted to me,” Spencer says, somewhat uncertain. “The same way I’m attracted to you.”

“And what makes you say that?” You hum. 

“I thought I heard you last night. Through the walls,” He says timidly, nothing you’ve seen from him before. “Thought I should’ve gone over to help, but I realised you were, um– You were pleasuring yourself. To- To me.”

“The walls are thin, huh?” You laugh, a little sheepish, but you note how Spencer’s becoming shy at the thought. “Did you…?”

His eyes grow wide. “Did I do what?”

You smirk. “That tells me everything I need to know, Reid,” you say, laughing.

“Well, you shouldn’t presume–”

“Shut up and kiss me, Reid,” you huff. You pull Spencer closer to you by his tie and you press your lips to his. 

It’s too perfect, when Spencer’s mouth is finally on yours. His hands cupping your face, Spencer kisses you hard and eager, like he can’t believe that he finally gets to have you. He kisses you like he’s starving, desperate for you as his next meal. You moan as his hands reach for your hips, pulling you in closer to him, greedy as he feels you up.

“Did you fantasise about this too? About me, like this?”

“This is better than I could’ve ever imagined,” Spencer says breathily. “You… You’re so attractive.”

“Could say the same about you,” you laugh, reaching to unbutton his shirt. His tie is already loose, hanging around his neck, but you want to see more. You undo the top few buttons, revealing more of his chest. You trail your finger over the exposed skin, letting your nail graze it slightly. You hear Spencer inhale sharply, and grin to yourself, proud of the effect you have on him. “So, do you want to just stand around and talk, or do you want to fuck me?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, and you chuckle. As if he hadn’t expected this was how it was going to go. Spencer purses his lips. “I mean, absolutely. I want to fuck you. But, um– We should definitely talk about this though.”

“Later,” you say, waving him off, before you lean in to kiss him again. Spencer grabs your waist again, like he needs to have you close. He lifts you slightly, making you squeak, but the both of you stumble over to the bed, unable to keep your hands off of each other, unable to keep your mouths off each other. You sit down on the bed, Spencer crowding you in with one of his knees on the mattress.

You loosen his tie and take it off, while Spencer moves to unbutton your shirt. HIs hands move deftly, eager to undress you, and he pulls away to marvel at the curve of your breasts in your bra when he pushes the satin shirt off of you. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself,” you say. You appreciate the view: a dishevelled, eager Spencer Reid in your bed, his hands all over you, his shirt half-undone, revealing tanned skin and a gorgeous body. “Need you to fuck me right now.”

Spencer laughs, perhaps a little incredulously, and he instead moves to take his shirt off instead. “I’ll- I’ll do that.”

“Good,” you say, distracted as you admire Spencer’s frame, the lines of his body, the softness of his stomach. He’s so hot you might die. “Very good.”

“I’m glad you like the view,” Spencer says, a little timid, like he’s shy to show off in front of you. He meets your gaze when you look up at him, caught in the middle of ogling him with no shame. 

You smile up at him sheepishly. “Please fuck me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles, warm and gentle. He helps you slide your pants and underwear off your legs before you spread them. Spencer’s jaw drops, his eyes focused on the slick mess of your cunt. “Oh, my God.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, thoroughly amused with his reaction. “Show me how much you want me, too.”

Spencer’s hands are quick to push down his bottoms, dress slacks and boxer-briefs on your floor in an instant, wrapping a fist around himself as he works himself up for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of him – “Spencer, you’re… big.”

“Am I?” Spencer asks, and you’d lose your mind if you weren’t expecting Spencer to fuck your brains out. 

“You are,” you say calmly, because if you let yourself sound any more excited he might think you were insane. “But I can take you.”

Spencer grins. “Good.”

His fingers press against your cunt after you tell him to do so. His slender digits pick up all the slick that’s leaking from your hole, spreading it around messily as he toys with your clit. You shudder with the sensation, throwing your head back against the pillows. Then, one of his fingers slips into you, and he coaxes you open with a care you haven’t felt from most partners before. “How’s that?”

“So nice,” you groan, getting used to the feeling. He fucks you on his fingers, slow and careful, intent on stretching you out until you’re comfortable. You whimper and whine, feeling embarrassed at how vocal you’re being, but Spencer is kissing your breasts without a care in the world, and then you’re thinking about letting him know that you do feel good. Your next gasp is less ashamed, as Spencer coaxes a second finger in.

You’re panting as Spencer fucks you on his fingers, the repeated motion only working you up even more. The squelch from his fingers fucking you is obscene, and his eyes are wide as he looks at you. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. 

“Fuck me, Spence,” you say. 

Spencer bites his lip as he sits up and settles between your legs. He’s tugging at his cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides his length along your folds, wet with your slick, and you groan at the friction. You grunt, wanting more, “Come on, Spence.” 

His hand on your leg, Spencer leans forward so he can press into you, and Spencer is practically folding you in half so he can fuck you. You moan at his thickness deep inside of you, filling you up, and the stretch is so undeniably amazing. Spencer’s length drags against your walls, such a delicious sensation deep in your bones, and you sob a little.

“Does that feel good?” Spencer asks softly, his voice tender. 

“So good, Spence,” you gasp. Spencer kisses your cheek, down your neck, and waits patiently for you to give him the go-ahead.

You feel his cock twitching inside of your heat, both your fantasies unable to live up to the real thing. Confident, cocky Spencer in your dreams is just that – a dream. The Spencer right in front of you is perfect, more perfect than what you’ve dreamed: shy but so attentive and sweet. He takes such good care of you. It makes you lose your mind a little bit.

“Fuck me,” you insist, and Spencer puts his hands on your hips as he starts to move. He fucks you deep, just the way you need him, and you cry out as he digs into your soft flesh, holding you tight so he can fuck you hard. The way Spencer pounds into you has your whole body trembling, pleasure coursing through you like electricity, till your mouth has fallen open and your toes are curling. 

“You’re so much better than I imagined,” Spencer groans, eyes squeezed shut as he puts all his energy into railing you. “Can’t believe this is real.”

You clench around him just to hear him moan, and you’re proud of yourself when his hips stutter and a groan rips through his throat in his pleasure. He glares at you. You grin, as Spencer keeps fucking you.

“What- Oh, fuck– What did you imagine? With me?” You gasp, as Spencer rolls his hips in a particularly deep thrust.

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, before looking down at you, like he’s really contemplating if he should say this. “I– I pictured bending you over the interrogation table. Fucking you, making you scream my name, taking you right there, I–”

You moan as Spencer hits that perfect spot inside of you, your legs trembling as you gasp, “I– Why did we have the same fucking fantasy? Fuck–”

“What? You thought of me that way too?” Spencer sounds incredulous, like he can’t imagine you thinking of him that way– As if he isn’t drilling you into the hotel bed right now.

“Fuck, Spencer– Oh, my God– Yeah, I– You had me pinned down on the table, and you were fucking me in the interrogation room, in front of all of them–”

“God, you’re perfect,” Spencer grunts, burying his head in your shoulder as he uses the leverage to fuck you deeper, harder, faster. You can’t stop moaning Spencer’s name, simply too overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s giving you, the way he’s fucking you into the mattress. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Spencer fucking you like a madman, giving you all the pleasure you need but still being greedy enough to take and take and take. 

“Please! Spencer, you– I’m gonna cum, I can’t–” You cry, sobs wracking their way from your throat, so loud but you can’t be bothered to keep yourself quiet. Spencer groans your name, a sweet, sultry sound, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. 

“Cum for me,” Spencer hums. “You’re so perfect, and you’re laid out like this all for me. You’re so fucking hot. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re sobbing as your orgasm hits you, overwhelmed by Spencer’s filthy words and his filthier actions, so intense as he fucks you into next week. It’s too good, and you lose yourself much sooner than you expect. Your pussy clenches tight around Spencer with your orgasm, sending him over the edge as he fills you up, cock twitching as he cums inside of you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight comfortable as you both catch your breath. Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t care when Spencer is leaning over to kiss you again. It feels so right, this wild feeling you only thought existed in your dreams.

The next morning when the team is gathered in the hotel lobby to head to the hangar to fly back to Quantico, Emily gives you a pointed look, and Rossi is clapping Spencer on the back with a knowing grin. You apologise sheepishly, while Spencer grows red, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the team. He only meets your eyes, and the two of you share a smile. You can tell neither of you want this to end here. Maybe you’ll talk about it when you get back home. 

[pedrospatch]

strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

[ravengards-rogue]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ; 

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun. 

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him. 

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate. 

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy. 

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures. 

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember. 

 Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him. 

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain. 

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down. 

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something. 

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while. 

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately. 

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you. 

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish. 

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting. 

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit. 

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs. 

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,” 

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,” 

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,” 

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.” 

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice. 

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn. 

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted. 

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it. 

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily. 

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

 Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show. 

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp. 

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms. 

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine. 

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that. 

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.) 

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did. 

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it.  It was just all too easy again, to be with you. 

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family. 

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see.  Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

 It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street. 

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy.  John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you. 

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you. 

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision. 

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life. 

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself. 

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck. 

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?” 

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you. 

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,” 

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat. 

“John,”  

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.” 

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,” 

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get.  He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently. 

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.) 

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters. 

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living. 

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is)  loyal to Dutch. To the gang. 

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long. 

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time.  He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about. 

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around. 

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen.  If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing. 

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.) 

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit. 

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would. 

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d  never find again. 

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves. 

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too. 

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way  they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you. 

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him. 

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him.  You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,” 

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease.  All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides.  You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space. 

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words. 

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.” 

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ; 

Wandering. 

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on. 

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly. 

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains. 

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few. 

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it. 

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list. 

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

 You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are. 

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him. 

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some. 

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you.  And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything. 

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not. 

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss. 

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars. 

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze. 

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks. 

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,” 

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?” 

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?” 

“Please, what?” 

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.” 

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life.  “Yeah, that’s good to hear.” 

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto. 

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head. 

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,” 

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires. 

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you. 

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed. 

“Kiss?” 

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[eimiette]

minutes

࣪♡ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── SPENCER REID

SUMMARY: during a high-stakes stakeout, spencer reid and his partner turn their limited time into a distraction from the case at hand. GENRE: smut with plot, idiots in love CW/TAGS: soft!dom spencer (ofc), quicky, piv sex, fingering, lots of banter, est!fwb relationship, reader is referred to as a girl. this is my first spencer reid smut so b nice pls !! <3

the night had settled into a quiet lull, the kind of silence that stretched on and made time feel endless. you’d been parked outside the suspect’s house for hours, watching the shadows play tricks on your eyes while spencer sat beside you, deeply engrossed in a book he’d brought along—one that had nothing to do with the case.

you glanced over at him, unable to resist a little teasing. “you know, we’re supposed to be watching the house, not reading ‘war and peace’ for the millionth time.”

“it’s ‘the brothers karamazov’,” he corrected without looking up, his tone dry but familiar. “and i’ve only read it four times, not a million. it’s called multitasking.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “right. because when i think of multitasking, i think of spencer reid reading existential russian literature while catching criminals.”

he looked up then, a small smile tugging at his lips. “well, it’s a good thing i’m here to broaden your definition of multitasking, isn’t it?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “sure, sure. meanwhile, i’m stuck doing all the actual work. keeping an eye out, staying alert… maybe you should take notes.”

he made a show of sighing, marking his place in the book before setting it down. “i hate to break it to you, but i’m perfectly capable of watching and reading at the same time. some of us can do more than one thing.”

“oh, is that so?” you arched a brow, leaning in slightly. “then tell me, genius, what’s happening at the suspect’s house right now?”

spencer paused, his gaze shifting to the darkened windows across the street, then back to you. “the lights in the living room went off about fifteen minutes ago. bedroom lights turned on shortly after, but no one’s left the house since then. there’s a dog barking a few houses down, and someone two blocks over keeps playing the same verse of ‘take on me’ on the piano. badly, i might add.”

you blinked, momentarily stunned. “okay, first of all, how do you even��never mind, i don’t want to know. and second, why would anyone ever play just one verse of ‘take on me’? what kind of psychopath are we dealing with here?”

spencer chuckled, a real laugh that lit up his face in a way that made something warm bloom in your chest. “now that’s the real mystery,” he agreed. “maybe we should call in a second team to handle it.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “only if they’re prepared for a psychological profile of a frustrated piano player. that’s definitely outside my area of expertise.”

“mine too, surprisingly,” he said, his smile softening as his eyes met yours. “though i’m sure we could figure it out together.”

your smile matched his, and for a moment, the banter fell away. it was always like this—easy, comfortable, like you’d known each other forever. bickering was your default, but underneath it, there was something else. something steady. something you never quite acknowledged.

“hey,” you said, breaking the quiet but keeping your voice low, almost conspiratorial. “be honest. are you actually glad we got stuck on this stakeout together, or are you secretly wishing morgan was here instead?”

spencer tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “hmm, well, morgan wouldn’t keep up a running commentary of every single shadow that moves, so that would be a point in his favor.”

you scoffed, nudging his arm with your elbow. “you love my running commentary. admit it.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your stomach flutter. “okay, maybe i’d miss it a little,” he conceded. “just don’t let it go to your head.”

“i knew it!” you crowed, leaning closer with a triumphant smile. “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be, dr. reid. deep down, you actually like having me around.”

his smile turned softer, almost fond, as he met your gaze. “maybe more than i let on,” he said quietly, the teasing edge slipping from his voice.

“you know,” you murmured, voice just above a whisper, “for a genius, you can be pretty slow sometimes.” he turned a page slowly, clearly fighting back a smile. “you’re just jealous because you didn’t think to bring a book.”

“why would i bring a book when i could spend my time annoying you?” you shot back, grinning when he finally glanced over at you, his eyes alight with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“mission accomplished, then,” he replied dryly. “you’ve certainly succeeded in distracting me.”

you let out a laugh. “it’s a talent, what can i say?” you leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping to a lower, more playful tone. “admit it—you like it when i distract you.”

he hummed, pretending to consider your words as he closed his book and set it on the dashboard. “i suppose it does have its perks,” he said, turning his body slightly to face you. his knee brushed against yours, a casual touch that sent a familiar thrill through you. there it was—the shift. you’d felt it countless times before, that subtle change in the air between you. it always started with harmless banter, a little back-and-forth that led to lingering touches, heated looks, and eventually, lips pressed together in the dark of the car or the shadows of a motel room. friends with benefits, that’s what you called it, though even that seemed too formal. it was more like an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that sometimes, the line between friends and something more blurred when the nights got long and lonely.

you arched an eyebrow at him, leaning in even closer. “and what perks would those be, exactly?”

spencer’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his smile turning a bit more mischievous. “the kind that gets me out of reading the same case notes for the third time.”

you chuckled, your heart picking up its pace as you closed the remaining distance between you. “if that’s what it takes to keep you from quoting tolstoy at me again…”

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were on yours, warm and insistent, like he’d been waiting for this. his hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. it wasn’t the first time, not by a long shot, but it still sent a shiver down your spine the way it always did. he kissed you like it was something he needed, not just something to pass the time.

you tilted your head, smiling against his lips. “so, is this how you imagined the stakeout going?”

he pulled back just enough to murmur, “it’s a pretty standard ending for us, don’t you think?”

you laughed softly, your breath mingling with his. “i guess we have a type, huh?”

“apparently,” he replied, his voice low and teasing as his thumb brushed along your jaw. “can’t say i’m complaining, though.”

you hummed in agreement, fingers finding their way into his hair as you brought his lips back to yours. “good. because i’d hate for you to get bored out here,” you whispered between kisses, your words half-teasing, half-sincere.

“i can think of worse ways to spend a stakeout,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his lips trailed down to your neck, and you let your head fall back, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

you felt spencer’s lips brushing against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. his kisses were warm and deliberate, a welcome distraction from the long hours of the stakeout. you leaned into his touch, but a nagging thought pulled at the edge of your mind, breaking through the haze of pleasure.

“spence,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “should we really be doing this right now? i mean, we’re on a stakeout. there’s a chance the unsub could show up any minute.”

spencer’s eyes flickered with amusement, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “oh, come on,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “we’ve been monitoring this place for hours. we’ve got approximately 48 minutes before the unsub’s next predicted move.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to read his expression. “48 minutes? and how do you know that?”

he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “based on the patterns of his previous crimes, the time between his actions has been pretty consistent. it’s a safe bet we’ve got a little leeway.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “so, you’re telling me that you’ve calculated the exact amount of time we have before we need to get back to being all business? kinda sexy you’ve calculated the timing on this out i must say..”

spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he blinked at you, momentarily thrown off. “sexy? you find profiling talk sexy?”

you nodded, your gaze never leaving his. “yeah, it’s like you’re making crime analysis sound intriguing and… well, a little hot.”

he chuckled, a warm, genuine laugh that sent a thrill through you. “i’ll have to remember that. maybe i should include more of that in my briefing sessions.”

you grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “just don’t let the team catch on. we don’t need them getting ideas.”

spencer’s fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt, his touch lingering with a hint of teasing. “you think they’d actually believe it’s my secret weapon?”

“oh, absolutely,” you replied with a smirk, helping him with his shirt. “morgan would probably have a field day with that.”

spencer’s shirt joined yours on the floor as he flashed a mischievous grin. “if that happens, it’s on you. you’re the one who brought up the idea of sexy profiling.”

“guilty as charged,” you said, pushing his trousers down with a playful nudge. “but you have to admit, you’ve got a way of making it sound pretty compelling.”

he raised an eyebrow, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “compelling, huh? is that the new standard for our stakeouts?” “maybe,” you said, leaning in closer. “or maybe it’s just a nice change of pace.”

spencer’s lips curved into a grin as he pulled you in for another kiss, his hands sliding around your waist. “i can live with that.” you responded with a playful glint in your eye, your fingers brushing against his chest as you shifted closer. with a confident move, you straddled his lap, your body aligning perfectly with his. the shift brought you eye to eye, a spark of heat dancing between you. spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips as he adjusted to the new closeness. “i see you’re not wasting any time,” he murmured, his voice a low, appreciative rumble.

you chuckled softly, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “why wait? we’ve got a limited window here.”

spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips. as he adjusted to the new closeness, his fingers slowly slid down, grazing the fabric of your skirt. the sensation of his touch against your skin made you shiver with anticipation. his hands wandered gently, exploring the curve of your hips and the edges of your skirt. his touch was light but deliberate, moving with an almost curious intensity as he traced the contours of your body. you could feel his fingers inching upwards, brushing softly against the bare skin of your thighs.

you pouted, a playful frown tugging at your lips as you looked down at him. “you’re really going to tease me like this?”

spencer met your gaze with a mix of amusement and warmth. “need you to use your words pretty girl.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on your lips. “oh, is that how it’s going to be?”

he nodded, his touch growing more deliberate but still teasingly slow. “absolutely. tell me what you want.”

you bit your lip, the playful challenge clear in your eyes. “i want you to stop teasing and actually—”

before you could finish, spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as his hands continued their exploration. his touch finally met your soaked core over your underwear, sending a jolt of sensation through you. his whisper against your lips was soft but insistent. “use your words. tell me exactly what you want.”

you parted your lips, your breath coming in soft, needy gasps. “touch me… please.”

spencer’s eyes darkened with desire as he heard your plea. his fingers slipped under the edge of your underwear, meeting the dampness of your core. he let out a low curse, his breath hitching. “fuck, you’re so wet. i should really explain the time management of our cases and unsub patterns more often if-” realizing he was losing focus, spencer shifted his attention back to you. he let out a soft curse, his fingers slipping inside you with a deliberate, smooth motion. the sudden, intimate contact made you gasp, the sensation warm and intense. spencer's fingers moved with a focused precision, sliding inside you with a smooth, deliberate motion. the warmth of his touch and the rhythmic pressure made your breath hitch, a soft whine escaping your lips as the sensation intensified.

he pressed his fingers deeper, his hand moving with a steady, measured rhythm. each thrust was controlled and purposeful, designed to maximize the pleasure that rippled through you. his palm rested firmly against your core, the heat from his hand mingling with the warmth of your skin.

as you whimpered softly, your breath coming in short, shuddering gasps, spencer leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sent a thrill down your spine. his thumb brushed lightly against you, adding a delicate pressure that made you whine again, the sound filled with both need and satisfaction.

you bit your lip, struggling to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “spence… i want to feel you. i want—”

he cut you off gently, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “i know. just give me a moment.” his fingers continued their rhythmic dance, his touch a tantalizing blend of warmth and pressure.

but as your need became more urgent, your voice grew more insistent. “please, i need to feel you inside me.”

spencer’s gaze grew more intense, filled with a deep, hungry longing, and he pulled his fingers away slowly, his expression a mix of affection and eagerness. “alright,” he said softly, his voice thick with desire. “i’m here.”

he reached into his wallet, retrieving a condom with a practiced ease. his lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he prepared it, a thought crossing his mind. it was probably because of you that he’d made it a habit to carry them during cases—an adjustment made in response to your playful insistence on being prepared. he tore open the wrapper and readied himself, then guided you gently but firmly into position. his hands were steady on your hips, helping you align perfectly.

as you settled into position, your breath quickening with anticipation, you glanced at him, a playful edge to your voice. “how much time do we have left?”

spencer’s eyes remained locked on yours as he checked the time. “forty minutes and thirty-two seconds—oh fuck.” the expletive slipped out as you slid onto him, the sudden, intense sensation making his breath hitch.

you leaned in closer, your breaths coming in short, heated bursts as you adjusted to the rhythm. the space between you was charged with electricity, each movement synchronized with a growing intensity.

“don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with pleasure.

spencer’s fingers dug into your hips, his movements becoming more deliberate as he matched your pace. “so pretty like this…” he replied, his voice low and intense. “so fucking pretty.”

as the urgency and desire between you built, spencer’s breath quickened, his hands guiding you with a steady, firm grip. each thrust was met with a soft, satisfied gasp from you, the rhythm between you becoming a fluid, intimate dance.

“doing so good for me baby,” spencer murmured, his voice barely more than a breath as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a heated, passionate intensity. his touch was everywhere—his hands on your hips, his fingers trailing along your sides.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. the car’s confined space only seemed to heighten the intimacy of the moment, making each touch and movement feel more intense, more immediate.

with each passing second, the urgency of the situation only added to the thrill. spencer’s focus was entirely on you, his eyes locked onto yours as he pushed you both towards the edge. “we’re almost there,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire and determination. “just a little longer.”

the combination of his touch, his kisses, and the urgency of the moment drove you both closer to the peak. the pleasure built steadily, every sensation amplified in the charged atmosphere. you could feel yourself unraveling, every nerve ending sensitized and every touch magnified. the sensation of him inside you was electrifying, a wave of intense pleasure crashing over you with each movement. your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as you felt yourself falling apart.

“spencer,” you gasped, your voice breaking with the intensity of the experience. your grip on his shoulders tightened, your entire body tensing as the pleasure reached its peak.

spencer’s eyes were locked onto yours, a mix of awe and desire reflected in his gaze. “i know, i know, i’m almost there,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent whisper. his hands moved with careful precision, his touch both guiding and responding to your reactions.

as the climax hit, you felt a powerful release, your body shuddering and trembling with the intensity of the moment. your voice broke into a series of breathless cries, each one a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

as the intensity of the moment enveloped you, spencer’s grip tightened on your hips, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. the way you had fallen apart, your body trembling with pleasure, had driven him to the brink.

his movements became more urgent, his focus solely on the sensation of being inside you, feeling your warmth and responsiveness. you could see the struggle in his eyes, the way his expression shifted from focused desire to complete surrender. “god, i’m close,” he gasped, his voice thick with a mix of urgency and satisfaction. his hands moved more fervently, his rhythm driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

as you clung to him, your body still trembling from your release, spencer’s movements became erratic. the pleasure built within him until he could no longer hold back. with a series of deep, shuddering breaths, he finally came undone, his body shivering with the force of his climax.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breaths ragged and hot against your skin. his hands still rested on your hips, holding you close as he rode out the final waves of his release.

as the intensity of the moment gradually faded, spencer’s touch softened. he pulled you close, his hands gently brushing over your skin as he helped you both come down from the high. his breath was still uneven, but his touch was tender and reassuring.

“are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a mix of concern and tenderness.

you nodded, a contented smile forming. “yeah, i’m fine. you?”

spencer chuckled, slipping on his shirt. “well, we’ve got approximately 22 minutes to spare.”

you raised an eyebrow, pulling on your top. “and what are we going to do with those 22 minutes?”

he smirked, buttoning his jacket. “well, i could use a quick breather. maybe we can discuss how i should properly schedule my case briefings.”

you laughed, adjusting your clothes. “sounds like a plan. just make sure you don’t forget to factor in the importance of effective timing.” spencer’s grin widened as he straightened his collar. “duly noted. next time, i’ll make sure to account for every possible variable.”

-

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

[deanscherrypie69]

Little Blue Sundress B.B

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Bondage, vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it)creampie Bucky Barnes with long hair…. Um I think that’s it lmk if I missed anything.

Summary: Bucky fucks you in a sundress👍🏽🤪

☀️🐚🌭🍔

It was that time of year, well your favorite time of year. Summer. You loved it. You loved spending time with your friends.

And that was what you and your soon to be husband were going to be doing today. You invited all of your friends over for a housewarming party. Bucky was grilling and you were in charge of making drinks.

You were standing Infront of your mirror trying to figure out what dress you wanted to wear. "I'm sure whatever you wear, you'll look beautiful in." Bucky walks next to you and places a quick kiss on your cheek.

You groan at his words.

"This is the first time since we seen evebody in months." You add with an eye roll. Bucky lets out a chuckle. "I doubt they're gonna care about what you're wearing."

You look at Bucky through the mirror. He'd been wearing, a blue short sleeved shirt with black pants, and to top it all off. His hair was slicked back with his sunglasses sitting on top of his head.

He knew it would drive your absolutely insane. You were bought out of your thoughts when you heard Bucky speak.

"Doll? You with me?" He asks turning to face you. "What." You say.

Bucky smiles, he loved the affect he had on you after all of these years. He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach. "I said everyone should be here in an hour." He hums. His voice was low and husky. It sent shivers down your spine. "So, pick out something to wear, so I can fuck you in it later, yea?" He kisses your neck and unravels his arms from your body.

And without saying a word, Bucky leaves the room. You could still smell his cologne; you bought it for his birthday this past year. It was one of your favorites.

Sighing you turn away from the mirror, walking out from the bathroom, you walk over to your closet, you had no idea what to wear. You had worn everything over and over again.

You run your hands over the clothes in your closet, maybe something would jump out at you. And it did. It was something that still hand the tag on it. Grabbing it down off the hanger, you look at it.

It was a blue sundress, almost like the color of Bucky's shirt he'd been wearing.

You couldn't help but smile. Bucky loved when you wore sundresses. It was his absoulute faveorite thing on you. And when you wore no undwerwear with it. And that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

Stripping off your clothes, you toss them to the side. Grabbing The dress you slip it over your head.

It was beautiful on you. You caught a glimpse of it in the mirror you had in your closet. You knew Bucky was gonna love it.

Walking back into the bathroom, you put in some pearl earrings, and a necklace that ahd the letter 'B' on it.

You dab on some light makeup and twist your hair up into a ponytail. Once you were satisfied you flick off the bathroom light and make your way downstairs.

You could smell the food that Bucky had been cooking. It smelled amazing, it made you stomach rumble. Making your way into the kitchen.

You walk over to the fridge and grab, different kinds of veggies that you were gonna cut up for a snack tray.

You were humming as you were chopping, meaning you didn't hear Bucky enter the kitchen. He wraps his arms around you.

"You look so fucking beautiful." He growls in your ear. Which causes you to snort out a laugh. "Let me see you." He hums nipping at your ear.

Dropping the knife onto the cutting board you spin around. Bucky's eyes land on the necklace wrapped around your neck. You could feel something poking on top of your thigh.

it causes you to hold back a moan. "We don't have time." You whisper. Placing your hands onto his chest. Bucky laughs.

"Who cares they can wait." Bucky grabs your wait and sets you on top of the counter, it was done with such forces it caused everything around you to shake, a gasp leaves your mouth.

"You drive me insane." He speaks. His lips inches away from yours. "I know." you laugh Bucky's metal hand moves down your arm, causing a shiver to take over your body.

His other hand was tracing over your thigh. "Are you wearing panties?" He hums. You bite your lip and shake your head no.

Bucky chuckles deeply. "You're a whore you know that?"

"Yea, but I'm your whore." You buttle back.

Bucky couldn't wait much longer; his cock was begging to be freed from his pants he'd been wearing.

Bucky grabs your waist pulling you to the edge of the counter, with his flesh hand he flicks your dress up revealing your bare pussy on display for him. He couldn't help but groan at the sight.

Bucky reaches for his belt; he unloops it from his pants. "Hands."He says. You lift your hands up over your head. Bucky loops the belt around your hands and ties them to the cupboard above you.

Bucky never looked hotter, a few strands of his hair was falling in front of his face his chest was beating up and down, and you had loved every second of it.

Bucky runs his flesh ahnd along your folds, causing you to let out a loud moan, "You're so fuckin wet for me, always." His fingers begin to press into you.

More loud moans escape from you. "Bucky please." You moan.

"I gotta get you ready for my cock." His fingers move at a fast pace. Causing your eyes to roll back.

Bucky hovers over you, placing a sloppy kiss onto your lips. He pulls away, "You ready for my cock mmh?"

"Please you beg." With a squeal. You felt you belly begin to tighten up, you knew you were close, you didn't wanna cum this quickly.

Bucky removes his fingers from you pussy. You watch as he undoes his pants, pulling out his cock, he begins to tease you with the tip of it, running it across your folds.

Bucky watches you. How heavy you were breathing. He knew how badly you wanted him to fuck you. Bucky slides into you, causing you to let out a moan. He doesn't move he stays there.

No matter how many times you and him have had sex, you still never got over how big he was. "Move please." You moan.

Bucky grabs your waist with both hands and begins to pound into you. "Oh-my fucking god." You moan. "You're so fuckin tight." Bucky nibbles on your neck. He ponds harder and harder, you knew there was no way that you were going to be walking straight after this, and you were okay with that.

"Whose pussy is this huh?" Bucky takes his free hand and brings it up to your neck.

"Your's!" You scream. You felt your orgasm, creeping up. "I'm gonna cum." You felt your eyes begin to roll back. You could tell by Bucky's movements that he was close.

"Cum on my cock." He says.

With those four words, you came hard. Bucky let out a loud groan as he came, you felt him spilling inside of you. He removes his hands from your neck. He carefully pulls out of you. Causing you to let out a hiss. He looks up to see you, your eyes meet his. "I'm okay promise." You laugh.

Bucky was quick to release your hands from his belt. "Was i too rough?" He asks.

"No, no." You shake your head.

Once your hands were free your rub your wrists. "I'm okay, I enjoyed it." You hum jumping off the counter. You watch as Bucky tucks himself back into his pants. He loops the belt around his jeans. Once Bucky was done, he looks at you.

"I hope you know that sundress season is my favorite season."

A laugh rips through your body. "Mine too." You hum. Bucky leans down and kisses your lips. "I wish we could do that all day." Bucky says pulling away.

"There's more where it came from buck- plus I'm sure everyone's gonna be here." You hum looking at your watch.

Bucky was about to say something, but he was cut off from a knock on the front door.

"Finally!" You squeal, you run over to the door and open it, and there everyone was, smiles plastered on their faces.

Wanda was the first one to come in pulling you into a hug, Steve, Sam and Tony Walk over to Bucky.

"I see you and Bucky settled into the house okay?" Wanda pulls away from the hug. "Yea." You laugh. Wanda crosses her arms over her chest.

"You smell like Sex Y/n."

A gasp leaves your mouth, "We got a little bit carried away." Wanda laughs. "Come on show me around." She says looping her arm around yours.

THE END

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANSCHERRYPIE69

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!!!🤍🤍🤍

[bbsworld1]

—————————————————————————————————————

“Master?”

————————————————————————

tags: kissing, smut, making out, friends to lovers, dry humping, oral sex, vaginal fingering, riding

summary: After finishing a task your master had given you, you complain to Qimir. Considering you should be your masters acolyte, he’s refusing… with Mae around it seems like he's almost replacing you. Qimir reassures you that everything is alright… but how does he know how your master feels?

————————————————————————

After a long errand run you stop by Qimir, your best friend to boast about your tiring and annoying day. “I should just give up, it’s not like he needs me anymore.” you groan, walking into Qimirs shop. “I’m sick of Mae stealing the spotlight, I mean… I was the original for christ sake.” sounding like a child throwing a fuss. “I know I sound stupid but he should acknowledge my loyalty for once.”

“How are you so sure?” Qimir lifted his head from the machinery he was inspecting.

“All I do is basically finish his grocery list like i’m his mother or something while Mae is out doing my work.” You drop your gear and head over to the seat beside Qimir. “Seems like you’re just giving him a helping hand, I mean look at the bright side, atleast you don’t have to do the dirty work.” Qimir puts down what he was working on to give his attention to you. “Yeah yeah I get it but the whole point was that I wanted to be by his side and help him, I don’t mind doing the dirty work.” You say feeling hurt by how committed you’ve always been to your master. You flash Qimir a look of hopelessness.

Tears slowly begin to form, you close your eyes and take a deep breath to hide it but Qimir catches it. “Hey, hey listen… you are one of the most highly skilled assassin’s don’t talk yourself down like that.” He rested a hand on your thigh for a moment, you didn’t catch the faint blush on his cheeks. “You don’t need to end it now.” Qimir says. “What if he wants me to? It’s obvious enough he has better help. If he keeps training Mae and sending me off, sooner or later i’ll be done for good.” You say, hopeless.

“Trust me, he needs you now more than ever.” Qimir says breathlessly.

“How would you know?” I say leaning closer to him, remembering how Qimir had lightly brushed your thigh just a few moments ago. You had always had a thing for Qimir but you couldn’t ruin your friendship, not in the middle of training to become your masters acolyte.

“because…” Qimir trailed off nervously. “you’re an amazing woman… strongest one I know, gentle and kind and I know he sees your potential to become even better.”

Qimir always knew what to say to make you blush. “Yeah?” You say, out of breath from the close proximity as your bodies grew closer and closer. “Yeah, I always know what someone is thinking.”

“Then what am I thinking about right now?” Tilting your head and flicking between Qimirs lips and eyes. “I think… you want to kiss me.” was the last words whispered from Qimir as he closes the gap. You both slowly ease into the kiss, you slowly move to straddle Qimir in the chair, pressing your bodies against each other. You place one hand on the side of his neck and another dragging through his hair. Qimir lets out a slight whimper as you tug lightly on his hair. You feel Qimir swipe his tongue swipe across your lip, pleading for entrance. You open your mouth allowing him to explore deeper. Qimir breaks the kiss to lift you and carry you onto the random sofa in the back of the shop.

He sets you on top of him, straddling him with his hands on your hips. You bend to place your head in the crook of his neck giving light sucks and nibbling right below his ear. “shit sunshine…” he breathes, eyes filled with lust. Just as you were about to continue you sensed a familiarity with the nickname… until it hit you… “master?” You say.

He smiles with his forehead rested against yours.

“So you finally figured it out,” he grins.

I just kissed my master. The Qimir i’ve known forever was my master. I smack him on the arm. “Hey!” Qimir says, “It was going so well.” “Why are you giving me these tasks? I’m supposes to be your acolyte and you’ve listened to me complain about you this whole time?” I say, ashamed of how I had been acting earlier. “Y/n, I can’t have you as my acolyte because i’m afraid of loosing you and I don’t know what I would do with myself if you were ever hurt.” He admits.

I let a sly smile pass me hearing his words. “Come here.” He says, “why don’t we finish what we started hmm?” He says as his hand wraps around the back of my neck. “mhm, i’d like that.” You say. This kiss is more passionate, filled with deep feelings and meaning.

You slowly begin to rock your hips against Qimirs growing erection protruding beneath the thing pieces of clothing he had on. He threw his head back and let out a strained groan, giving you a clear shot to attack his neck.

You slowly slide your hands beneath his shirt feeling his soft skin as his breathing quickened and his chest rose up and down quickly. “Just hurry up, please, I can’t take much of it longer.” Qimir breathes out. You lift his shirt over his head to reveal his sculpted body, running your hands through his body, “What do you need baby?” You say, out of breath. “Please..” He says. “Please what?” You say. “Touch me.” He says.

You place your hand over his erection. He winces and bucks his hips to get some friction, you palm him through his pants. “Come on, don’t tease me like that..” he says, sucking in a breath. “Patience.” You say.

He reaches to lift your shirt and you pull it over and throw it to the side. Qimir slowly analyzes your body, “beautiful.” He says, at a loss of words. Your blush becomes more prominent. Qimir reaches up to unclip your bra from the back in one swift movement. One hand reaches up to your breast to fondle the skin, attaching his mouth to the other and sucking and nibbling on your nipple. You hiss, tightly grabbing at his hair. He hums leaving vibrations on your chest.

Qimir swiftly flips you onto your back with him looming over you. He leans in, trailing kisses down from your neck to the lining of your pants. He looks up with pleading eyes. “Please, I’ve been needing to taste you for so long sunshine.” He asks, practically begging. You couldn’t say no. “Of course.” You say.

He immediately pulls down your pants to reveal your panties, soaked from his previous actions. “So wet already, just for me.” he whispers, nudging his nose between your thighs.

He slowly kisses between each thigh, worshiping your body. He finally reaches your heat, slowly licking through the fabric. You moan in frustration. “Stop teasing.” You say. He ignores your moans as he slowly pulls down your panties agonizingly. Once they’re fully off he wastes no time wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you down, he began licking and sucking like you were his last meal. Your hand gripped his hair sending vibrations from his moans directly to your pussy.

His head was pressed between your shaking thighs as his hands held you firm against the edge of the couch. One hand held his head against you, nearly nose deep in your cunt. The other gripped the couch cushion so tight your knuckles went white.

“Qi…” Your moaning kept him going. He wanted to taste every bit of you left.

He slowly placed one finger into you, and you reacted instantly. Arching your back off the couch as he was fingering you and sucking on your clit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came.

He let you ride out your high on his tongue as your juices spilled out. “Fuck, you’re really good” You say in shock. “Looks like we have a problem, mind if i take care of that?” You say, pointing to the obvious bulge leaking precum from the fabric of his underwear.

“I need you.” Qimir says in a faint whisper, crawling up towards you. “You have me.” You say, flipping Qimir over and propping your hips right over his clothed cock. You move over to pull his underwear revealing his erect penis. You begin playing with the tip, tracing your finger around the slit. Your hand then makes its way along the shaft, stroking it. He lets out a breath. You continue like that for a bit. All you can see is the back of his head but you can tell his mouth is slightly opened, whining and whimpering.

“Please I need it.” He says, begging. “Want me to ride you?” You say. He leans in to kiss you, taking that as a yes. You grab his erect cock teasing it along your entrance. He lets out a low moan. “Stop teasing please…” He says, breathing heavy. You finally slide the tip in, adjusting to his size.

Qimir closes his eyes with his mouth hanging open.You begin swaying up and down, small gasps leaving your mouth each time you go down. Qimirs hands move to your thighs squeezing them, they then make their way up. He watches your breast bounce as you move up and down. You kiss him every now and again.

Knowing you can't last long on top you begin to speed up your pace before your legs give out due to exhaustion. The slaps of sounds your body makes when it comes in contact with his, combined with your moans and his gasps sound like a bizarre orchestra. Your legs ache and beads of sweat fall from your head onto his abdomen.

You keep that pace until you slowly start to feel your body and Qimirs tighten. You feel a sudden wave about to crash over you. As you begin to loose your pace, Qimir grabs your hips and bucks his hips into you, reaching the deepest parts of you. You gasp, tugging his hair one last time before you feel his throbbing cock before finally finishing in you. You continue the ride, finally finishing a few seconds after him. You clench as you milk his cock. Clutching each others sweaty bodies.

Your legs finally give out as you rest beside Qimir.

After catching your breaths, Qimir turns to face you, kissing your forehead and engulfing you in a hug. A way of saying 'I love you' without having to say it. It is moments like these where you wish you could freeze time.

“You know… I don’t really mind those little errands you put me up to after all.” You say with a smirk.

Qimir laughs, wrapping his arms around you, kissing you on your forehead. You slowly fall into a deep sleep.

“Sweet dreams, sunshine.”

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 7

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.9k

Note : This chapter was quite nice to write. I’ve never had siblings but I’ve had people who I thought of as siblings so I hope the work translates to the reader and Yelena. Enjoy! 

Series Masterlist

“How did You Find Me?”

Tuesday.

Eventually, it was time for you to move back to your apartment. You knew it was coming, but the knowledge didn’t make it easier. 

You had spent far more time at Bucky’s than you intended. His presence had become a comfort to the quiet confusion you occupied.

The day of the move, Bucky was there, as he had always been.

As you stood in the foreign space of your apartment, he was there— helping you rebuild the space a version of you once called home.

The two of you worked in near silence, the kind that had become comfortable. 

Every now and then, he’d ask where something should go. You wouldn’t know, so you just pointed at where you thought made the most sense.

There was something methodical about the process of unpacking and rearranging. Back at the museum, you loved cataloging, so this should have been soothing. But it wasn’t. 

As you placed your clothes back into drawers and rearranged ornamental things on the shelves, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were putting together a puzzle with missing pieces.

Bucky didn’t ask how you were, didn’t try to force a conversation you weren’t ready for. 

He just helped. 

He dusted the shelves you hadn’t touched in months. He wiped down the counters that gathered layers of dust. Every now and then, you caught him checking to make sure you were okay. 

By the time the apartment was mostly back in order, the sun had set. 

This space, once yours, felt like it belonged to a stranger. This sense of detachment was unsettling, like you were an outsider looking in.

Bucky moved towards the door, though he hadn’t opened it yet. He stood there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slightly torn jacket.

“It looks like it used to,” he said quietly. You glanced at him, then back at the room. You nodded, trusting that it did.

Bucky took a small step toward the door. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say goodbye, but his eyes told you he didn’t really want to go. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said finally. He stood there, one foot in your apartment and the other in the hallway.

You felt a flutter of panic that made your chest tighten. The thought of him leaving— of being alone in this empty space— was unbearable. 

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “Do you think… Can you stay? M-maybe for a couple weeks?”

Bucky blinked, surprised by your request. 

For a moment, you worried you’d said too much, that you’d crossed a line.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be alone yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

The tension in his muscles melted away as he took a slow step toward you.  

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “Of course.” He said, “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

Wednesday.

Exhaustion finally pulled you into a restless sleep, but you didn't find any peace. 

It was the concrete again, heavy against your body. It collapsed around you, trapping you in a suffocating darkness. The cold scrape of rubble, the crushing weight, your muffled screams—  it was too much to process. You were desperate to escape. You were struggling to breathe. 

Then, you saw a tall figure walking towards you— Bucky! 

But the walls began to close in completely before he could get to you.

Suddenly, you felt rough hands on your shoulders, shaking you firmly. The world around you started to dissolve. 

You found yourself fighting against the intrusion.

You swung in self defense, fist connecting with something solid. A sharp grunt of pain finally pulled you back into the present. 

Jolting awake, you realized you were in your bedroom. Bucky crouched next to you, clutching his jaw.

“Oh, God—Bucky! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—” you stammered, horrified.

His eyes softened relieved that you were awake, despite the slight bruise. 

He waved it off.” It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the punch surprisingly well. “I’ve had worse.”

You looked at the clock on your bedside table that read 01.00 AM. 

Had you only been asleep for two hours? 

“You were having a nightmare,” he told you.

You sat up, clutching the blankets to your chest. You couldn’t remember all the details, but terror settled in your bones anyway.

“I’m gonna stay here,” he said. His voice was calm, almost casual, almost waiting for your permission. “Just in case.”

Maybe you should just tell him to go back to the guest room, brush it all off with a forced laugh, or apologize profusely for punching him.

But the idea of being alone again, left to wrestle with the dark corners of your mind, was unbearable. 

You managed a nod. 

He eased himself beside you. He stayed above the covers, respecting the boundary between your space and his.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Bucky simply leaned back, propping himself on one arm, his other hand close to yours but not quite touching.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. It was too soon to put the fear into words. Bucky nodded, and you were grateful for it. He leaned back, his head resting against the headboard.

After a few moments, you let out a shaky breath.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you let your eyes shut, listening to the calm, reassuring sound of his breathing. Each rise and fall of his chest became an anchor, something to focus on beyond the remnants of your nightmare. 

The bed dipped slightly as he adjusted, inching closer. His human hand laid next to yours, a quiet offer of comfort if you wanted it.

Finally, you shifted closer, curling into the warmth of his presence. His arm wrapped around you, gentle and protective.

You didn’t think you could fall asleep again, but with him there, the crushing weight in your chest began to ease.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Saturday.

You started feeling at home again. 

As your eyes drifted to the former winter soldier readjusting flowers in your vase, you started to think that  maybe home didn't mean a place. Maybe home, to you, was a person.

Each morning he made you coffee, handing you a mug without a word. He offered to help with laundry. Slowly, he started moving his things here. His clothes. His toothbrush. His shoes.

He didn’t hover, but he was always around, as if he could tell when the walls began to feel like they were closing in. Sometimes, he’d catch you staring out the window, lost in thought, and he’d nudge you gently. Other times, he’d suggest small things to keep you anchored—a walk around the block, a stop at the corner store for groceries, or a quiet evening watching old movies. 

Today, you had trailed your fingers on his jaw, looking at the spot you had punched him in your sleep several days ago. You were amazed at how the bruise that formed was no longer there. Guess it made sense— super soldier healing and all. 

If only the bruises in your mind healed that quickly.

The nightmares didn’t vanish, but they started to lose their edge. When they came, they didn’t feel quite as suffocating, partly because when you’d wake, he’d be there.

He stayed in the guest room most nights, but if you needed him, he’d be there without question, laying with you until morning.

He tried to act as if he was happy with this being casual, being platonic. 

Sure.

Sunday.

Today, you found yourselves on the couch after a long day of training. Bucky had brought over a couple of old records he’d picked up from his storage room, and you both took turns picking the next one to play. 

At one point, you caught him watching you. 

When you looked over, he didn’t look away, didn’t try to hide the way he was studying your how your eyes lingered on his. 

After a moment, Bucky’s expression grew thoughtful.

“You know, that nightmare you keep having... with the concrete ?” He paused, meeting your eyes, weighing whether he should continue. “That’s actually what happened during the mission.”

You felt your chest tighten. "What do you mean?"

“I was part of the rescue team that went in to get you out.” He took a steadying breath. “I was the one who found you underneath the rubble.”

“You… saved me,” you whispered, trying to piece everything together. “I must’ve hit my head before you got there. I think I— I’ve lost them by then..”

He nodded, “You said you see me in your dreams sometimes,” His voice softened. “I was probably the first person you saw after hitting your head.”

Oh.

Bucky had been your first new memory in four years, the first face you’d seen after the darkness. All the quiet pull you’d felt toward him suddenly made sense. 

The strange safety you felt with Bucky—finally made sense. For once, something made sense.

It’s been so fucking long since anything made sense.

Tears slid down your cheeks, slow at first, then everything spilled over. 

The sobs came hard. When your shoulders shook, Bucky pulled you into his arms without hesitation. His hand moved gently along your back as the record skipped quietly in the background. 

He didn’t say a word. He just held you, knowing how much you needed this release. 

When the tears finally eased, you managed a weak, watery laugh. “So,” you joked. “I basically imprinted on you like a little gosling.”

He chuckled. “Lucky me.”

Monday.

The museum was unusually quiet, just the soft hum of ventilation and the muffled steps of a few wandering visitors. Maybe the laugh of a couple school kids pointing at the Homo Erectus display. 

You said hi to Alex before making your way in. 

You and Yelena moved through the halls. She had suggested the museum for your post-training catch-up today, knowing how familiar this place was to you. 

As you strolled through the Ancient Greek exhibit, you pointed at a sculpture that caught your attention.

"That's Mnemosyne," you said, "The goddess of memory."

Yelena looked at the statue with a curious squint. “There’s actually one for that?”

You nodded, feeling a faint sense of purpose as you explained. “In Orphism, which is this really interesting ancient Greek tradition, they believed the newly dead would drink from the River Lethe, which would make them forget their past lives. But if you drank from the river of memory—Mnemosyne—you’d remember everything and be free from the cycle of reincarnation.”

She turned to you, giving a small, almost mischievous smile. “And here you are, teaching me about memory after you’ve lost four years of it. Irony’s got a sense of humour.”

You chuckled, though the joke stung. “Drinking from Mnemosyne’s river would be pretty useful right about now.” Your tone was light, but the longing was unmistakable.

Yelena looked back at the statue. “Maybe you’re not supposed to get those years back,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe… they’re not important.”

There was a comfort in her words, as if forgetting allowed you to live in the present. To be new. To be whoever you decided you wanted to be.

After a while, you both settled on a bench in a quieter part of the gallery. The moment felt calm, with only the gaze of painted portraits and ancient relics to overhear you. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you started, the words slipping out quietly. “It’s about Bucky.”

Her brow lifted slightly, leaning in. “Oh?”

“He’s been staying with me.” You took a deep breath. “Sometimes he stays in my room. He’s been helping me regulate my nightmares.”

Yelena listened, her features falling as she gave you a small nod of encouragement.

"I think…” you trailed off, heart fluttering nervously, “I think I’m falling in love with him.”

Yelena’s expression stayed steady, but her eyes sharpened a bit. She nodded, but her face was unreadable.

“I’m happy for you,” she said, though there was a hint of hesitation that you didn’t catch. “You sound… at peace with him.”

Relief washed over you in waves. Yelena’s support mattered to you in ways you didn’t quite understand.

“I feel safe with him,” you admitted, a smile spreading across your face. “I don’t know how to tell him yet, but… it’s just nice to feel… something real.”

She reached across, giving your hand a small squeeze. “You deserve to feel safe.” 

Her fingers lingered hesitantly before she let go.

An edge flicked behind Yelena’s eyes, a tension you couldn’t quite place. You thought it was just worry, the way she’d been looking out for you ever since everything went blank. 

But her mind was piecing together things she knew about Bucky that you’d forgotten— that she wasn’t sure you were ready to hear.

As you shared more— about how Bucky had held you through the worst of your nightmares, how he stayed without ever asking anything in return— she listened. 

She didn’t want to shatter the peace you’d found, not when you were finally beginning to reclaim your life. 

Still, she knew there were parts of Bucky that could change everything if they came to light.

She had thought, naively, that Bucky would tell you. Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment

But the way you spoke about him made it clear he wouldn’t.

Wednesday.

Yelena found Sam in the gym, his back to her as he worked through the last of his reps. 

Sam took a seat on the bench, ready to hear her out. 

She didn’t waste any time. She said your name, voice barely above a whisper.

Sam knew Yelena was protective of you, especially now, after everything you’d been through. "Go on," he coaxed.

Yelena’s hands clenched into fists. 

"She’s falling in love with Barnes, Sam." Her voice wavered, and she looked away for a second, like the thought of you being hurt was something she couldn’t bear. "But she doesn’t know what he was like before."

Sam’s shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he started. “But I don’t think he’s just pretending to care."

“But she doesn’t know.” Yelena’s voice cracked. "She doesn’t know he’s… he’s just trying to undo the damage he caused in the first place. I can’t let her fall for someone who’s hiding her own past from her." She took a shaky breath, blinking back the tears. 

You were the first person who came as close as a sister to her since Natasha... and losing the last four years you had together had been harder on her than she'd like to admit. Losing you to grief, losing your trust? That would break Yelena.  "She deserves the whole story. She deserves a choice.”

“It’s not that simple.” Sam looked away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I saw him. In the hospital, before she woke up. He was there, holding her hand, talking to her for days as if she could hear. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t let her be alone."

Bucky had faced what she couldn’t bring herself to — he’d seen you at your lowest, at the brink of death. When Yelena first heard what had happened, she had locked herself to waste away in her apartment, sinking to the floor as sobs destroyed her body. 

She couldn’t go to see you— how could she?

She couldn’t bring herself to see even a hint of bruising on you. Couldn’t bear to witness the blood pooling on your head, the cuts on your limbs.

Hearing Sam tell her what happened to you had reminded her of losing Natasha.

The fear had paralyzed her. She couldn’t bear to see you unconscious, clinging to life by a fragile thread.

She hadn’t been there then, but Bucky had.

"It doesn’t change what he’s hiding.” She murmured, barely audible. “If he really cares about her, then he should be brave enough to tell her the truth.” Her voice trembled. “If she finds out he’s only with her to make up for his mistakes, to… to fix some guilt inside him, it’ll destroy her.”

No one’s allowed to destroy her, she thought, not after everything she had been through. 

“It's not just guilt.” Sam insisted. "Every time I see them together, it doesn’t look like he’s trying to atone. I know Bucky much better than you do. It looks like he’d finally realised what he’d— that he’d… that he loves her.”

No, Yelena thought. She knew he always had feelings for you but there's no way he loves you more than I do. 

She’d been there first; she knew you better than anyone, knew the sound of your laughter and the quiet sadness you tried to hide. She had loved you, the way she’d loved Natasha—like family. You were her sister in every way but blood.

But now, watching the way you talked about Bucky, the way he seemed to carry your pain as if it were his own... 

Maybe he did love you more, in ways she couldn’t, in ways she’d never even considered. 

“He still needs to tell her the truth,” her voice was much softer now,  though no less fierce. “He owes her that much."

“Then talk to him,” Sam nodded. “Make him see what’s at stake.”

“And if he doesn’t tell her?” Yelena blinked. "I can’t watch her fall apart. Not again."

“Neither can I.” Sam’s voice strained as he packed his things into his duffel bag, "But let him try. Give him more time.”

Time.

Yelena knew better than most people that time was just a cruel joke running circles around mortals like her.

And she was getting impatient.

-to be continued…

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[n1ght0f-nyx]

My hero academia boys asking you out pt 1

warnings/tags: cliffhanger, more fanon way of acting than canon ngl, i dont think there's other warnings other than that- feel free to dm me if you notice a common warning that could affect someone

characters: katsuki bakugo, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, tenya ida, Eijiro kirishima, denki kamanari

🔥 Katsuki Bakugou 🔥

Bakugo seemed more agitated than usual. He kept glancing in my direction, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my heart race. I tried to ignore it, focusing on the lesson, but it was like trying to ignore a blazing inferno in the middle of a snowstorm.

When the bell finally rang, I gathered my things and started to head out, hoping to make a quick escape before he could confront me. But as soon as I stepped into the hallway, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Bakugo standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” he said, his voice gruff but lacking its usual edge.

“Uh, sure. What’s up?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart.

He led me to a more secluded part of the school, away from prying eyes and ears. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. He turned to face me, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.

“Look, I’m not good with this kind of stuff,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. More than I probably should.”

My breath caught in my throat. Was he really saying what I thought he was saying? I tried to keep my face neutral, but I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

“I like you, Y/N,” he said bluntly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I don’t do things halfway, and I’m not gonna start now. So, what do you say? Will you go out with me?”...

💚 Izuku Midoriya 💚

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the UA High School grounds. It had been a long day of training, and I was ready to head back to the dorms when I heard a familiar voice call my name.

"Y/N, wait up!"

I turned around to see Izuku Midoriya, his messy green hair slightly tousled and his cheeks flushed from running. He caught up to me, panting a little but with that determined look in his eyes that I'd come to admire so much.

"Hey, Midoriya," I greeted him with a smile. "What's up?"

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "There's something I need to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure," I replied, curious about what had him so worked up.

We walked over to a bench near the training field and sat down. Izuku seemed nervous, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding eye contact. I waited patiently, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

"Y/N, we've been friends for a while now, right?" he began, finally looking at me. His green eyes were filled with sincerity and a hint of something else—something that made my heart skip a beat.

"Yeah, we have," I agreed, my curiosity growing.

"I-I really admire you," he stammered, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. "You're strong, kind, and always know how to make people smile. Being around you makes me want to be a better hero."

I felt a warm blush creep up my own cheeks at his words. "Thank you, Midoriya. That means a lot to me."

He took another deep breath, clearly trying to muster his courage. "What I'm trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. A lot. And I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime?"...

🧊 shoto todoroki 🔥

I glanced across the bustling courtyard of U.A. High School, my heart doing a little flip when my eyes landed on Shoto Todoroki. His dual-colored hair was unmistakable, a vibrant mix of crimson and white, just like his enigmatic personality. I always found him intriguing, a blend of ice and fire, both literally and figuratively.

Today, he seemed different. He was standing a bit straighter, his eyes scanning the crowd as if he was searching for something—or someone. My pulse quickened as his gaze locked onto mine. For a moment, I considered looking away, but curiosity and something deeper held my attention.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice carrying over the chatter of our classmates. I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness as he approached me. Todoroki was known for his calm and stoic demeanor, so seeing him a bit unsettled was surprising.

"Hey, Todoroki," I greeted, trying to sound casual despite the rapid beating of my heart. "What's up?"

He stood in front of me, his mismatched eyes intense and focused. "Can we talk?" he asked, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of emotion that made me wonder what was going on.

"Of course," I replied, nodding. "What's on your mind?"

Todoroki took a deep breath, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I've been meaning to tell you something," he began, his gaze unwavering. "I've realized that I have feelings for you, Y/N. And I was wondering if you would go out with me."

🗣️ tenya Iida 👔

I had always admired Tenya Iida from afar. His dedication, his sense of justice, and his unwavering commitment to his classmates were qualities I deeply respected. But today, something was different. I noticed him glancing my way more often than usual, and there was a nervous energy about him that I hadn't seen before.

The school day passed in a blur, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Tenya. Finally, after our last class, I headed towards my locker, only to find him standing there, waiting for me. His usually stern face softened as our eyes met.

"Y/N," he began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, Tenya," I replied, trying to keep my own nerves in check. "What's up?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine for a moment before he continued. "I've been meaning to tell you something for a while now. I admire your strength, your kindness, and your dedication. You inspire me in ways I can't quite put into words."

I felt my cheeks heat up at his unexpected praise, but I nodded for him to continue.

"I... I have feelings for you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice steadying as he spoke. "And I was wondering if you would do me the honor of going out with me."

🗿 Eijiro Kirishima 🗿

It was a bright and sunny afternoon, the kind that made everything feel a little bit more hopeful. The UA High School campus was bustling with students, everyone going about their business, but my mind was focused on something—or rather, someone—else entirely. Eijiro Kirishima.

I had known Kirishima since we started at UA, and over time, my admiration for him grew into something deeper. His unwavering spirit, his kindness, and his infectious smile had a way of making my heart race. Today, though, something seemed different about him. There was a nervous energy in his usually confident demeanor.

We were in the courtyard, taking a break from training. Kirishima approached me with that wide, toothy grin of his, but there was a hint of something more in his eyes.

"Hey, Y/N," he began, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Can we talk for a sec?"

"Sure, what's up?" I replied, trying to keep my own nerves in check.

He led me to a quieter spot under one of the large oak trees that dotted the campus. The shade provided a nice respite from the sun, but it didn't do much to calm the fluttering in my chest.

Kirishima took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto mine with a seriousness I rarely saw in him. "Y/N, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I just... I need to tell you something."

I felt my heart skip a beat. Was this really happening?

"I really like you," he confessed, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that rivaled his hair. "Like, a lot. You're amazing, and I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, but I didn't know how. I guess what I'm trying to say is... Would you go out with me?"

⚡️ denki kamanari ⚡️

I had just finished my last class of the day, my mind still buzzing with the day’s lessons. As I walked down the hallway, I saw Denki Kaminari leaning casually against a locker, his usual grin plastered across his face. He saw me and straightened up, a spark of nervous energy in his eyes that I hadn't seen before.

“Hey, Y/N!” he called out, waving enthusiastically. I couldn’t help but smile back. Denki had always been a ball of energy, lighting up any room he entered.

“Hey, Denki! What’s up?” I asked as I approached him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sure sign that he was nervous. “So, um, I was wondering if you have any plans this weekend?”

I tilted my head, curious. “Not really. Why do you ask?”

His cheeks flushed slightly, and he took a deep breath. “Well, I was thinking... maybe we could go out sometime? Like, on a date?”

[caitified]

Hi Hi! just want to say first off your writing is wonderful and i check the wnba x reader tag daily to see if you posted, but I was wondering if maybe you could write a Paige fic where the reader is Caitlin’s best friend and she brings her to the wnba draft and the reader is essentially in love with Paige and Caitlin kinda try’s to set them up! just super sickingly sweet fluff💓

draft day

paige bueckers x reader

warnings:none, thank for the support 💜💜

you’ve been friends with caitlin clark for as long as you can remember. from the first time you both stepped onto a basketball court as kids, all the way through high school, and then at iowa together, she’s been by your side for every win, every loss, and every chaotic memory in between. she’s seen you at your highest highs and lowest lows, and honestly, you never thought she’d be the one to try and set you up with anyone—she’s way too protective. but, to your surprise, she calls you one day, excitement in her voice.

“you have to come to the draft with me,” she insists. “i want you there.”

“of course, i’d love to,” you say without hesitation. “but why do i feel like there’s a catch?”

there’s a pause, and you can almost hear the smile in her voice. “well… there might be someone i think you should meet.”

now she’s got your attention. “you’re setting me up?” you ask, half-laughing. “who are you, and what did you do with my best friend?”

she just laughs, brushing off your teasing. “just trust me, okay? i have a good feeling about this.”

the day of the draft arrives, and you find yourself nervous as you walk into the venue beside caitlin. she insisted on picking out your outfit—a sleek, fitted look that’s slightly more formal than you’re used to, but you have to admit, she has good taste. as you both make your way through the buzzing crowd, cameras flashing around you, caitlin seems completely in her element, greeting everyone with that effortless charm she’s known for.

“so,” you say, leaning in closer to her as you walk. “when do i meet this mystery person?”

she gives you a sly look. “soon. be patient, would you?”

eventually, caitlin drags you over to a small group of people, and that’s when you see her—paige bueckers, laughing and talking with a few friends. you’ve seen her play before, of course; her talent on the court is undeniable. but seeing her in person, all dressed up with a confident smile on her face… it’s something else entirely.

“paige, hey!” caitlin calls out, her voice light and easy.

paige turns, her eyes brightening when she spots caitlin, and then her gaze lands on you. she gives you a once-over, her smile turning a little softer, a bit more curious. caitlin nudges you forward, almost like she’s showing you off.

“this is my best friend,” caitlin says, a hint of pride in her voice. “i figured it was about time you two met.”

you reach out to shake her hand, and when her fingers wrap around yours, you’re caught off guard by the warmth of her touch. “nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

paige grins, a playful glint in her eyes. “all good things, i hope?”

you laugh, nodding. “mostly,” you say, shooting caitlin a teasing look.

as the evening goes on, caitlin seems to vanish at all the right moments, leaving you and paige to talk. she’s surprisingly easy to talk to, with this magnetic energy that pulls you in. she tells you about her pre-draft nerves, the pressure she’s been feeling, but there’s also this spark in her—an excitement about the future, the kind that’s contagious. you find yourself laughing at her jokes, leaning closer every time she speaks, and you notice how she mirrors your movements, her arm brushing against yours like she’s closing the distance without even thinking about it.

“so, caitlin really never mentioned you before?” paige asks, raising an eyebrow, her smile teasing.

“not really,” you admit, shaking your head. “she’s protective. probably didn’t want anyone stealing her best friend.”

paige chuckles, glancing over at caitlin, who’s busy talking to a few other players across the room. “yeah, i can see that. but i’m glad she introduced us.”

the conversation flows easily, and eventually, the two of you drift over to a quieter corner. she asks about your time at iowa, your favorite memories with caitlin, and somewhere along the way, the conversation turns a bit more personal.

“so,” she says, her voice softer now, her gaze steady. “do you ever think about what’s next? i mean, with caitlin going pro and everything… are you planning to stick around?”

you hesitate, caught off guard by the question. “i’m not sure,” you admit. “it feels like everything’s changing so fast. but i think… i think i’d like to see what happens. maybe explore a few new things, meet new people.” you give her a small smile, hoping she catches your meaning.

her eyes linger on you, and for a moment, you feel like you’re the only two people in the room. “well, i’d love to be one of those ‘new people,’” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

your breath catches, but before you can respond, caitlin reappears, looking between you and paige with a grin that’s far too smug for her own good. “am i interrupting something?” she asks, clearly aware of the tension.

you roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re the worst, you know that?”

caitlin just shrugs, unbothered. “hey, i did you a favor. you’re welcome.”

the night winds down, and as people start to leave, you linger by the door with paige, not quite ready to say goodbye. she shifts, looking at you thoughtfully. “so… what are the chances i could see you again?”

you tilt your head, pretending to think it over. “depends. are you always this smooth?”

she laughs, a little breathless. “only when it counts.”

you give her a smile, feeling bold. “then i’d say the chances are pretty good.”

she grins, her eyes shining. “good. i’ll hold you to that.”

as you and caitlin leave together, she throws her arm around your shoulders, her face split into a huge grin. “so? was i right or was i right?”

you shake your head, laughing. “okay, fine. you did good.”

she just laughs, clearly pleased with herself. “oh, i know i did.”

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Bloom (Joel Millerxf!reader)

A/N: Naaaah whoever decided Joel Miller should be played by Pedro Pascal did it for the people who have daddy issuesssss. Here’s something I whipped out because Pedro leaves in my mind rent free. Pleaseee give me some suggestions or prompts for things to write

I tried starting a tag-list but it literally burned in flames when I tried setting it up. Please just turn on notifications if you would like to be updated for @cherryblossom-enthusiast if you want to keep up with my writing :)

Synopsis: Joel Miller was neither friend or foe. You’ve barely talked to the man considering his reclusiveness. But you can’t stop staring and wanting. Turns out, he can’t stop staring and wanting you either. 

Warnings/ Tags: E (18+). Smut bby. Fluff, GrumpyxSunshine (Reader is a florist!), Unprotected PinV, Language, Dirty talk! Joel, Praise Kink, Rough sex, Fingering, SLIGHT spoilers

Word Count: 5.3K Words

Masterlist 

Your breath clouds your vision like a puff of white smoke.

Winter. The very word is a tragedy.

Food is harder to come by, light leaves much faster. The world is as bleak as it is and yet winter still cascades around you, turning everything black and white. A lifeless painting.

The chilly wind picks up and a shiver runs through your body.

“Y’good?”

The voice is lazy. Slow.

Warm.

Considering who it’s coming from, the level of warmth is a fucking marvel.

A hulking figure approaches your side. With a deep sigh, you turn your head and you’re met with the most tired eyes you’ve ever seen on someone. No shine, no luster, just an outpour of exhaustion from every small gesture he decides to do.

Joel fucking Miller.

You remember the first time you talked to him all too clearly.

You’d never been friends. Acquaintances even. Makes it a bit hard when the son of a bitch was as recluse as he was. They were the new residents of Jackson. Him and the girl he holds tight to his chest.

You were intimidated by him at first. Joel was all gruff words, long sighs, and blank stares. But the more you paid attention to him, the more you understood how he worked. Especially, when it came to the people he cared about. The man didn’t take shit from anyone. Nobody bothered him, and he returned the favour.

For the most part, that stayed true. Joel was the kind of person who always vied to stay invisible, be like every other person. Unaffected for the most part. But as you start to water your flowers on a clear-skied summer day, you hear him laughing.  

The richness of that laugh is still embedded into the deep recesses of your mind.

Joel wasn’t hard to understand as long as you really looked at him and boy did you stare.

You look over to his porch and there he is, “take no shit” Joel Miller with Ellie, teaching her how to play the guitar. You can’t quite remember what they were talking about. Something about “dinosaurs” and “T-rex hands”, but his adoration for the girl was so palpable, so intoxicating.

It was your first time seeing him so- loose. Like he actually gave a damn.

That’s when you knew Joel Miller would burn the world to keep that girl happy.

Ellie’s voice calling your name snaps you out of your thoughts. “How are you doing?!”

The tips of your ears burn, thinking about how weird it must have been staring at the pair for so long. “Enjoying this weather, how are you doing today Ellie?” You flash a bright smile.

She runs off the porch, practically hurling the instrument back at Joel. You hear an oof from the man behind her and you almost let out a small chuckle. Ellie stops in front of you, notebook in hand. The girl was always drawing or writing something. “It’s a great thing you came out,” she starts and pulls a pencil out from her back pocket. “I’ve been meaning to ask all about your pretty flowers.”

“Hopefully I have some answers.”

The girl babbles on about anything and everything she could think of. From what she thought were the coolest flowers, to what colours reminded her of planets. The conversation happens a while. You’d hit every single plant in your garden by the end of it.  

Ellie points at your rose bushes with the back of her pencil. She reminds you of a reporter. All serious, wanting to get a big scoop, thirsty for any ounce of information she could get. “How about those? What are those?”

“Ah,” you move away so she can have a better view. “Those are called roses.”

“Uh-huh” She writes enthusiastically in her notebook “and what do those mean?”

“Well, each colour means a different thing, but that colour specifically-“ you point at the flowers behind you using your thumb “red roses, mean passion, affection, and-“ you pause, trying to find the proper words “things akin to love.”

Ellie stops her writing and looks up at you. Her eyebrows are creased and she looks so ridiculously cute it makes you giggle. “Basically, you’d give it to someone you reaallly reaaallly like Ells.”

“Like- Joel?”

That gets a proper laugh out of you. “Not quite.”

She doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your answer but leaves the reply alone. In true Ellie fashion, she moves on by asking another question. “What flower would I be?!”

You pretend to think about it for a moment even though you know exactly what flower you would give her. Not that you’d given that particular question much thought, but you just knew. When you find exactly what you’re looking for, you squat to quickly pluck it from the ground and turn back to Ellie. You outstretch your hand “I think I’ll give you a yellow lilly.”

“What does this one mean?”

You ponder it, letting out a hmmm and place the flower behind her ear. “Well it wouldn’t be special if I had to explain it now would it? I guess you just have to brush up on your flower language.”

Ellie lets out a whine. “But you’re the only who knows anything about plants here!”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to bother me more.”

A wild smile blooms on her face.

“Ellie!” You turn to discover the owner of the voice behind you. Tommy Miller approaches your direction, carrying a bag of supplies and produce. “You said you’d help Maria with supper tonight!”

Ellie jumps. “Shit!” She runs towards Tommy without a single care in the world. Halfway, she calls back to you and thanks you for your time. Tommy lifts his hand to acknowledge your presence and in return you lift your hand back to wave goodbye. Before you know it, the pair disappears, Ellie eagerly asking Tommy if he knew what her new flower meant.

“She’ll be talking to everyone bout’ flowers for while.”

Shoulders tensing, you swivel your head to your side. Joel stands beside you, hands in his pockets, a small smile gracing his face.

It catches you off guard completely. In the months you had spent as his neighbour, Joel had never spoken even a mere sentence to you. There was acknowledgement, maybe a simple wave, that nod men his age do when they want to greet a passerby. But hearing him direct his words to you hits you like a wave. A tsunami of shock.

He seems to notice your plight and his once loose posture turns rigid. “Sorry,” he mumbles “I should stop botherin ya-“

You shake your head in defense. “No, no, it’s just-“ Letting the tension roll of your shoulders, you sigh out a laugh and extend your hand, introducing yourself.  He clasps it with his own and your arm goes limp. His hand is larger, the callouses hard against your skin. It should feel weird, uncomfortable even, but none of those feelings come to mind.

“Joel Miller, nice to meet you.”

Maybe you were silly for expecting more, but nothing really happens after that.

There were some conversations about small favours and errands here and there, but not to anyone’s surprise, Joel’s got more than one hard layer of rock. He’s as immovable as a mountain. You naturally went back to the role of spectator. Stupid little crush that wouldn’t go away.

How could it when he was the man that he was.

He repeats his question from earlier and it finally snaps you back to your current reality. You were in the middle of rounds during this god-forsaken weather. “Y’good?”

Joel wasn’t even supposed to be your patrol partner. You had gotten wind that your original partner caught hold of the flu and since Joel was otherwise wide open for the afternoon other than indulging other people’s requests, he took up the opportunity. The walk started off as awkward. You didn’t know what to say or how to approach him so it stayed quiet for the majority of the time, but the more you walked, the more comfortable it became. Usually, going out of Jackson’s walls still scared you. Having Joel by your side gave you a bit more re-assurance. You aren’t oblivious. Everyone knows how brutal he can become.

You shrug and look back at the vast expanse of land in front of you, overseeing from the cliff you were on. “’Just enjoying the natural splendour.”

Joel stays silent for a small while but replies. “I’d believe you more if you didn’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’d get into a ring and fight winter one-on-one”

The comment makes you scoff. “I’m tough as nails Miller.” You stare directly into his impenetrable eyes. “I’m sure I can handle a little snow.”

-------------------

Joel opens the door to a safehouse, making sure not to drop his gun until he knows for sure the area is safe. Once he’s satisfied, he leans the shotgun against the wall and motions for you to come in with a nudge of his head.

Both of you had been making record time getting back, but not even a racehorse could outrun the storm starting to brew. Halfway through your trudge back, Joel pats your shoulder, explaining that with the poor winter jackets the both of you were wearing and the wind whipping your faces, it’d be best to stop by a small cabin him and Tommy scouted a few rounds back. Not wanting to freeze to death, you obviously agreed to the idea.

It left you here.

Setting your bag down, rubbing your hands together, patiently waiting for Joel to start a fire in the hearth.

Joel.

Joel.

Alone with Joel.

He stands up from his crouching position and turns back to you. “You’re free to set-up your sleeping bag closer to the fire.”

“Oh, no- no, it’s alright.” You speak quickly. Almost too quickly. “You made the fire, I think you deserve to enjoy the fire.”

“But-“

“I insist.” You state it in a tone that says “that’s final”.

The man sighs. “Alright ma’am, whatever ya say.”

The two of you unroll your packs, splaying your sleeping bags so that your toes are towards the hearth. You take off your boots and sit on your make-shift bed. It was uncomfortable, you haven’t had to sleep on one in a while, but you’d gladly take anything over having to stay outside. Joel follows suit.

“Turns out I couldn’t handle a little snow.” You remark.

A small puff of air comes out of him. Coming from Joel, it may as well have been a full-blown laugh. You turn to take a glimpse at him and another small smile is on his lips. It’s only the second time you’ve ever seen one on him and it knocks all the air out of you just like it did the first time.

He’s distracted and that’s when you take the time to really focus on him. He looks softer in the firelight, the whites in his hair more prominent, his usual dark eyes having a glow to them. He looks less- burdened, and with that smile on his face, dare you say, despite your current situation, just the tiniest bit peaceful.

“You should do that more.” The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“What?”

“Smile.”

Like a toddler caught with the cookie jar, a crook caught in the headlights, Joel tenses and you mentally punch yourself in the face. His face goes back to the stoic front he usually puts on.

“Sorry, I was just-“ you start to apologize.

“It’s fine.”

Silence once again ensues. The air becomes as awkward as it was before.

“So-“

“What-“

You both talk at the same time.  Joel gestures to you, asking you to go first.

“I was just gonna ask what we could do to kill time.”

Joel shrugs and continues to stare at the fire. “We could always just sleep.”

“Nah c’mon-“you push “don’t be such a bore.” You ponder some more and think of an idea. “How about twenty questions?”  Your rounds partner says nothing, and you take the chance to convince him even more. “I’ve lived beside you a whole year and know nothin about you-“

“Probably for the best.”

Oh.

You understand. Of course, you do. But you can’t stop the small twinge of disappointment growing in your chest anyways.

When he makes the statement, you pull back. “Sorry, I just wanted to know more about you.” You fiddle with your nails. “Been staring at you for god knows how long and the most I’ve gathered is you like wood work.”

Joel perks up at your confession.

Dumb.

So dumb of you to admit that.

“You’re right, it’s better if we just go to-“

“No, let’s play.”

His sudden change of attitude to your idea throws you in for a loop. “Really? You sure?”

“That your first question you’re wastin’ darlin’?”

Your already tired brain short circuits at the nickname. “What?” No- I-“

The man has an amused look plastered all over his face. “Okay, well- shoot then.”

You think up of something stupid on the spot. “Favourite movie?”

“None. Got too many.” He answers.

“What? Well that’s not-“

“My turn.” He cuts you off once more. “Favourite flower?”

It doesn’t even take you a second to respond. “Oh easy, the lotus flower.” You ponder your next question. “One thing you don’t like?”

“Smiling.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you.

“Your thoughts on coffee?” He continues.

Your nose wrinkles “Bitter garbage.”

He puts his hands up to surrender. “I respect wrong answers.”

“Pet Peeve?”

He looks up at the ceiling and takes a moment to really think about it. “When I have nothing good to trade for coffee.”  He takes another few seconds to think of another good question before he hits the lottery. “Why don’t you like winter so much?”

A loaded and good question indeed.

You shrug. “Cause.”

You get an eyebrow raise. “Cause?”

“Cause I don’t know-“ You go back to picking at your nails. It’s become a habit, doing it every time you’re nervous. “The world already looks dead and winter comes along and makes it even more dead.”

“That why you like flowers so much?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You’re not even letting me ask a question before you ask me another one?”

This flusters him. “No, I just-“

Embarrassed Joel Miller. Never thought you’d get to check that off your bingo card.

A wide smile breaks on your lips. “ I’m just kidding, Joel.” He lets out a sort of grumble and it makes you smile even wider. “That’s a part of it sure.” Your eyes haze over as you start to remember life as it once was. “My folks were florists” you start to explain “before all this shit went down.” It was a small shop, with wide glass windows, and plants of every kind. “Hated it. Didn’t want anything to do with em’ especially my father, some dumb teenage kid who thought it was embarrassing.” You scoff. “But taking care of plants was the only thing I was good at, held it to my chest like a life-line.”

Memories play in front of you like an old film. Sometimes you forget that there was something before all of this.

All this carnage.

All this wreck.

“Before my dad died, not to this, thank god, he kept on trying to take care of the shop.” You recall his pale ill-stricken face and frail hands.  “I got mad, made a fuss, yelled why he’d take care of some dumb flowers but not himself, and you know what he said?”

You remember his words, as clear as crystal, even twenty years later.

“Isn’t it a wonderful thing that these flowers still grow? Despite all the noise and all the chaos, something as beautiful and as frail as this is surviving. When I think of the way I’m helping that, I can’t possibly suffer.”

Joel stays silent at your admission.

You notice that you may have gone a little overboard.

Jesus- dump it all on him why don’t you?

Trying to make the mood lighter, you quickly change the subject. “Besides, when it’s summer, Ellie visits me more.” Joel Miller chuckles at the mention of the girl. You decide then it’s definitely one of your favourite sounds. “I like seeing the two of you together.”

“Hm?”

“You both always seem so lost in your own world. Nice to see, considering you got that grumpy scowl on all the time.”

“That right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He slowly nods, gazing back at the fire. “Some of us aren’t monsters and smile 24/7 like you do.”

You’re offended by the comment. “Wha- I do not!” You exclaim. “What’s wrong with smiling anyways?”

Even more chuckling. He’s getting real comfortable with doing that. “Nothing, when it comes to you anyways” he remedies “But you do it all the time, watering people’s yards, baking them an apple pie, hell, I’m pretty sure you laughed when you slipped on ice this morning. You got your emotions all over your face you know that? Infects all of Jackson.” He takes a slight pause. “Reminds me of Ellie.”

“Oh god, you saw that this morning?”

“Oh yeah,” He teases, words elongated in that Southern drawl. “Mitts flying into the air and everything.”

Your face practically feels like an oven. “How do you even know about all of that?”

Joel shrugs. “Cause.”

“Cause?”

“Maybe you haven’t been the only one staring for god knows how long.”

Time stops.

Suddenly, air doesn’t matter, heat doesn’t even come close to existing. A supernova could happen, and you’d sit here just as shell-shocked. Nothing matters other than Joel.

Joel and his stupid accent.

Joel and what he just said with that stupid accent.

You swallow thickly and bless your heart, you don’t know what comes over you, but you take a chance to keep pushing. “You think I’m gonna “infect you” with tons of smiles soon too, cowboy?”

He doesn’t reply all to quickly, and for those couple of seconds where all you can here is the fire crackle and the wind whipping outside, it feels like a brick ton is laid upon your shoulders.

“Maybe you already have.”

Goddamn.

All the stolen glances you’ve taken of him flashes in your mind.

“Joel,” you mutter. The man beside you continues to stare at the fire, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Joel.” You repeat, more firm with your tone.

He finally decides to look in your direction and God- your heart pounds so hard, you think it might just come out of your chest. Those eyes. Those damn coffee-coloured eyes of his that usually looks so cold, so despondent are the warmest colour of molten chocolate you’ve ever seen. You can tell he’s clenching his jaw and the view almost knocks you out cold.

With a shaky breath, you start to messily list all the things you’ve always wanted to say. “Tell me now if I’m taking this the wrong way so I don’t keep embarrassing myself, but I swear to everything I hold sacred, if I don’t kiss you right now, I’m going to have a very frustrating ni-“

A growl from Joel cuts you off and before you know it, he’s crossing oceans to get to you. A strong hand grips you by the neck, and firm lips plant themselves squarely on yours.

It’s pathetic how fast you keen under his touch, how fast you grab the collar of his shirt to draw him closer to you. You open your mouth to moan and he takes that chance to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. It’s dizzying, downright intoxicating the way Joel kisses you. The way you’re kissing each other is every look, every stare, every word that was ever left unsaid between the both of you that’s exploding into something cosmic.

You lift yourself up and straddle his lap. You press down and feel the growing hardness in Joel’s jeans. He groans into your mouth and you continue to press your hips down farther.

Joel stops kissing you. A needy whine escapes your lips. “Are you sure you want this darlin’?”

Your panting is heady. “Joel if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll have the liberty of fucking myself with my fing-“

You know you sound downright hopeless, but you’ve been wanting for so damn long.

He flips you down onto the sleeping bags so fast, you don’t even have time to finish. He rucks up your shirt and starts to pepper small kisses from the center of your breasts, down to your stomach. It makes you whimper as you continue to finish taking of your top.

Joel gets to quickly unbuttoning the rest of your clothes, peeling the jeans off of your body until all you have on is your bra and panties. He hovers over you and takes off his own shirt. He’s all muscle and hard chest. The mere sight of him shirtless drenches your underwear faster. He takes a few seconds to peer at your half-naked form. “Damn, you’re a sight.”

“So are you.” You admit in a small voice.

He wastes no time, delving back in between your legs. He slides down your underwear and immediately ghosts his fingers over your cunt. Shivers run down your body as your eyes close in bliss.

“You imagine it was my fingers?” His dark voice pulls you back.

“Ever since I first set my eyes on you Miller.” You heatedly reply.

“Great,” he pushes two fingers inside you making you boom a moan towards the ceiling. “Been thinking it was your fingers around my cock too.

He works into you, his fingers large and stocky. Joel starts off slow, languid, making sure to tease every reaction out of you. You don’t think it’s possible to get wetter than you already are, but every thrust of his fingers proves you wrong. He curls both at the same time, and your hips immediately lift from the pressure. Joel pushes you down with his other hand. “Na-ah darlin’,” That southern drawl of his is deeper, lazier than usual “I finally got you where I want you, you’re not going anywhere.”

As he keeps your hips down with his palm, Joel increases the speed of his fingers. “Why didn’t-“ you choke “you do anything earlier then?”

A mocking scoff leaves him. “You’re too good for me, doll. Got too many issues. “

“Then why now?”

“Because I’m still a selfish fucking asshole.” He groans, rotating his thumb around your clit. “And when you sit in front of me, all flushed and pretty, asking me to fuck you, how could I possibly have the strength to say no?”

You see Joel spit on your slit and it’s what does it for you. A rush of electricity passes through your body and it renders you senseless. You mewl and twist in his hold, but Joel makes sure to hold you through your orgasm.

Your mind is hazy, it turns into a mixture of fog and smoke, but your refuse to leave him hanging. After a few seconds, you prop yourself up and kneel right in front of him. Not breaking eye contact for even a moment, you take your hand and start to palm his length over his jeans. He trembles beneath you, jaw clenching as he lets out a groan. You slowly unbuckle his belt, pulling down the rest of his clothing and waste no time finally gripping him directly.

Shit, you knew a man like him would be big, but this is-

The sound that comes from Joel’s throat is devastating. Somewhere between pant and moan, losing total control. He thumps his head on your shoulder, seeking out the crook of your neck. You continue to work his cock, building up speed, tightening your grip. His tip leaks pre-cum and the way he bunches up your hair desperately, like he needs to hold onto something to keep from losing control only prompts you to keep going. The feeling of power is addicting. “Don’t mess with me” Joel Miller keening under your touch.

He suddenly pulls your hair and it’s enough of a shock to make you stop your hand and whine. “I know you’re having fun doll, but you keep doing that and I’ll finish. Waited too damn long for that to happen.” He grabs you by the hips and flips you over making you let out a small yelp. He positions you so that your ass is towards him. “Bend.” He orders.

So you do.

He palms your ass and gives it a spank. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to touch this? Flaunting it around-“ He squeezes “shoving it in my direction, wearing those pretty dresses of yours.”

“Ever think it was on purpose?”

There’s another slap to your ass to respond to your comment.

He lines up his cock to your entrance, gliding his tip to coat it in your wetness. You quiver, breath hitching, skin prickling.

“If I fuck you, there’s no going back for me darlin’, if you want me to stop you have to tell me right now.”

You groan in frustration. “Fuck me Joel, please just-“

He buries his full length into you all in one thrust.

You think you’re ascending to heaven, knocking on the pearly white gates itself. He gives you a couple of seconds to get accustomed to his massive size. “You okay?”

“Mmhm?” Is all you can make out, trying to nod your head that’s pressed up against your sleeping bag.

“Good,” he starts to move as you cry out in pleasure. “Tell me to stop and I will, but otherwise-“ He shoves himself even deeper. “I’m not holdin’ back.”

Joel sets up a brutal pace from the beginning. He grips your ass tight, making sure you’re taking everything he has to give and all you can do is let him. There’s nowhere for you to go as he drives his hips into you, fully filling you up with every fast snap of his hips. To say it’s overwhelming would be a complete understatement.

Are you sure this is the same Joel Miller? Cool, calm, composed Joel Miller that has everyone quaking in their boots the minute he holds a knife or a gun. Because right now, he’s so undone. There’s no pattern to the way he moves in you, no finesse, just pure want.

He places his hand that was on your ass to your scalp. He pulls you up using your hair and once you’re flush against his back, he grasps your neck, continuing his unrelenting tempo to your pussy. You tighten around him.

“You like that huh?” He comments in an amused tone. “Who knew the town sweetheart was so fucking naughty like this.” You want to try and come up with a witty response, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. “Actually, don’t tell me. I’d kill anybody who does know.”

His thumb raises to your lips and you take the liberties of sucking it into your mouth. His hold on your neck slackens and the sudden rush of oxygen to your head has you teetering on the edge of consciousness. He takes his arm that’s around your stomach and travels it down further to your swollen cunt. Joel starts to roll your clit between his fingers and you think you’ll really black-out then.

“God, such a good girl, even when taking cock.” He whispers into your ear. You clench around him even harder this time and he knows you’re close. “You gonna come doll? Gonna come on my cock?”

A needy whine escapes your throat. Each roll, each rut, each jerk, grows more intense as each second passes. “C’mon,” he coaxes “do it.” With one last pinch to your sensitive clit, your muscles tighten and heat spreads across your skin. Your walls flutter and as your eyes roll back, vision blurring, you are hurled into your climax. With a choked sob, you slump forwards and the only thing helping you stay up is Joel’s hold. He follows you shortly after, sputtering your name on his lips. Pulling out quickly, he comes on your back.

Joel slowly lowers down the both of you, making sure not to crush you with his weight from behind. It was so gentle, so benign you struggled to relate it to the man furiously fucking you just a few moments earlier. Nothing but your pants fill the air for a while. You’re sticky all over, sweat and come coating your skin. Your body was buzzing from both pain and pleasure, but you couldn’t care less.

You roll your body so you can look at him. Joel’s face was and wasn’t everything you expected it to look like. You expect the flush, the hair sticking to his forehead, the clench of his jaw. What you don’t expect is the softness in his usual impenetrable gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He grumbles.

Your eyebrows knit and you place a palm against his cheek. Joel all but melts into your touch. “What for?”

“For wanting you this much.”

Taking both your arms, you wrap them around his neck and pull him towards you. He lays against you, hie ear right beside your mouth. “Thank you.” You whisper.

“What for?

“Wanting me this much.”

You hear his sharp intake of air and smile. You continue to pet his hair, peppering small kisses on his forehead. “I want you too, Joel.”

“You shouldn’t.”  He mutters a tired reply.

“But I do.” You take a deep breath and let him know all your thoughts. “I want all your grumpy stares, and your grunted words- You pause to give him another kiss “Your silent kindness, and that rare smile of yours.” Joel doesn’t say anything back so you continue to talk. “All of it. Will you let me have all of it?”

He pulls himself back, just enough to gaze back at you, full of admiration. “Just let me have all of you too.”

The beating of your heart doesn’t speed, doesn’t flutter past the finish line, instead opting for a slow steady pace, But the feeling in your chest was so heavy, so full, that you couldn’t mistake it for anything other than devotion. You grin from ear to ear. “Who would be able to say no at getting a chance to annoy you with more conversation.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and it only makes your heart fill up with even more with adoration.

This man that you’ve been pining for, holding you close here. Now.

You don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Hell, you don’t know what will happen a few seconds from now, how this whole unpolished attraction between the two of you will buff out. The wind is still howling outside, whipping away at all the destruction and the carnage happening around you, but for now the world is still. The both of you are inside this cabin in the woods and for now, you don’t think, don’t plan, only exist and it is everything.

Maybe later you can hope that in this winter, something beautiful and strong can grow too.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s late in the evening when you finally get to relax the next day. Once the both of you had returned to Jackson, there were too many errands that had to be rushed in the time that you missed. Nothing else could be said other then a quick farewell between each other.

As you drag your exhausted body up the stairs of your porch, you almost don’t notice the flower in front of your doorstep, nearly stepping on it.

A wave of warmth comes rushing up from your toes.

You beam as you crouch and pick up a singular red rose attached with a note that says “Come over. We didn’t finish our game of twenty questions.”

- - - - - - - -

Want More?

[himbocoups]

˗ˋˏ CRAWL ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

SYNOPSIS: If there is anything about the Devil, it’s that he always keeps his promises. The problem is, he’s mad that you seemed to have forgotten his promise. Crawling for the Devil is the least of your problems.

PAIRING: devil!yjh x reader (afab)

GENRE: fantasy | smut, pwp

TAGS: featuring: sub!ksy, artist!xmh, housemate!jww | auditory voyeurism, pegging (m receiving), fingering, hickies, face sitting, oral + face fucking (m receiving), tail play, degradation, crawling, spanking, swallowing, toys, manhandling, pnv

WC: 5.2k

A/N: hello! currently working on my thesis so writing this was a way to blow off steam. I also wasn't going to write another devil!jeonghan fic so thank you to @whenyourenothere for convincing me! this can be read as a standalone fic or a part two of red horn. special s/o to @junkissed for helping me figure out the tags for this fic bc there's a lot <33 - nu ♡ | tagging: @jjeongddol

himbocoups's masterlist

It is a rusty metallic foldable chair that you sit on that squeaks and creaks even with the slightest movement. You try to readjust your posture — definitely not sure if you should sit up straight with your back against the dusty chair or with your hands folded neatly on the edge of the devil’s table in front of you. In fact, you’re not sure whether or not you are supposed to touch the devil’s office desk, so you choose to lead with the prior option. And the metal chair reacts, drawing out a long and uncomfortable creeeeak as you shift your weight backward. 

Maybe you were just lucky last time, led by the Devil to believe that maybe you were worthy of being somebody special in this vast world. In this underworld where the universe’s menagerie of creatures visit with last hopes of finding a solution, you are finally coming to a conclusion that you’re only but a speck of dust in a world that knows no bounds. 

The small office room feels humid and stuffy; its previously supposedly beige wallpapers are now a darker shade of brown that peels in large patches to reveal dirty and white painted-over bricks. Splotches of mold line the edges of the patches, and you find yourself wishing that mold spores aren’t a thing that exists in Hell. But it’s Hell, and anybody who dealt with mold before knows that the process of treating mold is basically hell. The navy colored carpet looks old and worn out. Several flat and black pieces of gum stick to it, already dried and surprisingly shiny in color. 

On the desk and pushed to the corner is an old and vintage PC, the kind with the square monitors and the back that protrudes outwards. You can feel the heat from the computer console blow against your skin and leave a faint burnt metallic scent in its wake. Not sure what to do or if you’re supposed to do anything, you sit in silence as the devil behind the computer screen slowly types and moves his mouse on top of his mousepad to fill out the information he has in the giant manilla folder spread out in front of him. 

You retract your lips inwards and bite the gummy and smooth underside of your lips while you stare at the stack of business cards pointed toward you. Craig. His name is Craig with no last name. Demon. So you’re wrong. He’s neither a devil nor is he the Devil with a capital “D” whom you were previously introduced to. He’s just office worker Craig, the demon you were assigned today. 

“Do you think it’s too stuffy in here?” He asks you while lifting his mouse from the mousepad before setting it back down to readjust the roller ball underneath. Not once does he turn to look at you or make eye contact with you.

“A little,” you reply feeling awkward and a bit burdened by the question for almost no reason at all. 

He nods his head while tracing his long and crooked finger against a line on the stack of papers in front of him before typing in the data in his computer. He sniffs and snorts his phlegm while clearing his throat. It was just small talk; there is no way an office worker in Hell would care about your wellbeing. You find yourself wondering if central cooling is a thing in Hell while trying to peek at the contents of your surprisingly large folder with no avail.

This room, this office worker, this situation…none of this is the same as the beautiful and luxurious office space you imagined stepping in for the second time. Long gone is the plush gray Persian rug and the mahogany desk that belongs to the owner himself. And your large file that is spread out before the demon you’re assigned, you cannot help but think about the event or even events that could have possibly added to the flimsy pieces of paper the Devil flipped through when he first met you. And the thought of Craig reading your file only causes your face to heat up in embarrassment. 

“Um.” You force yourself to break the awkward silence. “May I use the restroom before we start? You still haven’t asked me what I’m here for, and I think I accidentally came under the assumption that I would be assigned to the same person. I’ll be quick in case you need me immediately.” 

“Down the hall,” the demon mumbles while hunching his back to allow himself to squint closely at the screen in front of him. 

Picking yourself up from your seat, you basically fling yourself out of the office while thinking about the fresh air that awaits you in the hallway. No thoughts about the demon nor suspicions regarding the fact that the demon didn’t really point you towards a particular route to the restroom floated in your mind. Coming here was a mistake, and you are willing to face any repercussions for walking out of a meeting with a demon if it means having to save yourself from the embarrassment of having that demon read your file regarding your previous request with the Devil. 

However, what awaits you on the other side of the door isn’t the hallway from which you entered the office you were in. Instead, you find yourself in an oddly familiar bedroom. Light navy blue floor-length curtains cover the window with their original pleats from when it was first purchased about a year ago still intact. Pushed against the window is the full-sized bed with the orange-stained wooden headboard and the mess of frost blue blankets haphazardly strewn on the mattress. The soft and rotund tiger plush lays threateningly close to the edge of the bed, able to be toppled over even with the slightest movement on the mattress. 

The owner of this bedroom is in the middle of it all. Kwon Soonyoung kneels on his bed with his legs spread and his ass up. He already looks so fucked out. His left cheek is pressed against his mattress while he looks back at you with his hands tied behind his back. The position he’s in doesn’t seem comfortable at all, but his expressions, demeanor, and soft whimpers coming out of his mouth digress. 

“Please,” he practically begs you from his pitiful position. You can see how his lean thighs tremble while he struggles against his restraints. He wails with such desperation, “I want it. I want it so badly,” so much that it almost sounds as if he is going to cry from your lack of action. 

You don’t realize it until now, but an object manifests itself in your hands. A thick and ribbed silicone dildo, one that you’re too familiar with, is being stroked by you unconsciously. You feel the girth of it and how the lube it’s coated with prepares the toy for insertion. 

Then comes the teasing. You find the words naturally flowing out of your mouth: “Conciseness in your language, Soonie. What is it that you want?”

But the thing is, you know what comes next. You know what his response is as you slowly make your way over to him.

“Peg me. I’m ready,” he gasps while a tiny translucent pearl gathers at the tip of his dangling cock. “Blow my back out.”

You already know exactly how many times you will yourself to slap his ass to prep him before his legs give in. You already know how lewdly he would gasp as you insert the tip of the toy, how he would bury his face in his blankets as he moans out loud. You find yourself repeating actions as if being controlled by a machine, yet you don’t hate it. You’re magically stuck in a limbo between reality and déjà vu, presently recreating the past. 

You feel his walls sucking in the toy, taking it in so well. Like a special switch in an escape room, once you grab onto his aching cock to stroke him while you peg him, the scene immediately switches.

Naked and in the middle of a studio apartment that reeks of paint fumes and essential oils, you look at yourself through the standing mirror in front of you. Despite the fan blowing in the background and the apartment windows propped open, you don’t feel cold at all. Instead, your skin pricks with heat as the sensation of arousal gathers itself at your core and spreads to the tips of your fingers. Beneath you is a mop of platinum blonde hair of the artist who sits by your feet. 

Xu Minghao gently grabs you by the waist so that he can angle you so that you can get a better view of his artwork on your body. You remember that with him, you always felt safe and appreciated. He traces his slender finger along the length of your thigh, bringing it up to your ass. He makes you feel valuable through your soreness, the entirety of your right ass cheek covered in his carefully placed hickies. Your pussy throbs with eagerness, waiting to be filled before all of the juices run dry. 

“My work of art,” he mumbles before he brings his lips to your ass cheek. In the open space where the bruises connect, he bites it with his teeth and swirls the flesh in between his teeth with his tongue. His left hand makes its way to your opening, thumbing the smooth nub that immediately makes your knees buckle. So he positions himself behind you, strongly wrapping his long right arm around your legs to keep you steady as he nips and sucks while he takes your time to circle your clit before he finally slips his finger in your core as if the action is like second nature to him. 

Pleasure builds in your soul and makes your body scream with pleasure as Minghao meticulously massages your inner walls, stroking and tapping your spongy insides as you writhe in his arm. He adds another finger, filling you up and building your high, scissoring you while you moan his name as your liquid drips down his fingers and collects in his palm. 

“Done,” he breathes as he shifts his body so that he sits between your open legs. You can feel how his warm breath hits your skin as he speaks with his lips nearly on your cunt, “Flower on your ass. Sweet and puffy rose sitting on my face.”

Before you can re-experience all of what it felt like to sit on Minghao’s face like a chair, you find yourself in another room. This time, you’re in your own place in the room next to yours. From the placement of the desk to how the bed is pushed against the corner of the room, flush against the wall, the layout of this room directly mirrors your own. There are a lot more notecard art prints taped to the wall than you last remembered. The LED lights built into his mechanical keyboard softly pulses as it switches colors. And there is the all too familiar smell of his laundry detergent and dryer sheets that fills his room — he had just unloaded his laundry from the dryer, but didn’t have time to fold his clothes as they still sit in the laundry basket placed in front of his closet. 

You’re not sure if you’re allowed to be here at all. It’s not often that you find yourself in Jeon Wonwoo’s bedroom, but when you do, you’re usually near the threshold of his door. And to be sitting on his plush gray sheets, you think it feels too intrusive. Still, you’re not sure if you should move from your comfortable position despite the fact that you’re not close enough to him to enter his bedroom just to chill without him present. And the worst of all, you’re pretty sure you’re still soaked from your previous encounter with Minghao. And that you’re still definitely in hell because there is no way you would ever allow yourself to feel this close to coming on Wonwoo’s bedsheets without his permission. 

Two soft knocks on the door diverts your attention to the closed door. 

“Yn,” Wonwoo's deep and tender voice calls your name from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay? I’m coming in.”

The thing is, this occurrence with Wonwoo had never happened before. You’re stuck in a scenario far different from the other two. So, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when you saw him walk through his bedroom door. Instead of the tall and built housemate that you sometimes find yourself secretly fawning over, is the sinister yet charming man you haven’t seen in ages. 

Yoon Jeonghan steps into your housemate’s bedroom with the irresistible charm of his while flaunting an oversized black t-shirt whose sleeves almost touch his elbows. The Devil is here, and he knows everything that you’ve been hiding from him.

He slams the door behind him and takes long and fast paced strides toward the bed until his figure towers over you. And the Devil himself smirks as he purposely leans down until his bangs dangle in front of his forehead and your entire upper body is pressed against Wonwoo’s sheets. His right hand presses into the space next to your left shoulder as he looks down at you with a pitiful look on his face. 

“What?” He almost scoffs at you in his beautiful light and airy voice. “You didn’t once stop to think that maybe all of this was my doing? That you would relive your memories with who was it? Kwon Soonyoung and Xu Minghao? You’re more fucking stupid than I remembered. Were you fucked too hard by Seungcheol that you lost a few braincells? Or was it with Joshua when you accidentally hit your head too many times against the inside of his car door?”

He cocks his head to the side as he grabs your chin with his left hand. Cold to the touch, this miniscule action has you struggling to catch your breath. He tilts your head left and right as if to carefully inspect what is his. 

“My pet,” he coos while letting go of your chin. Where his cool fingertips touched your skin now pricks with burning heat. And he takes his time to kneel on the bed while still hovering over your body. “This is the bedroom of the guy you get off to? You don’t think I know about how often you touch yourself while he fucks the people he brings over to this bedroom? And now you’re horny again? You want to fuck on the bed of the guy you want so deep in your gut?”

As stupid as you are, you find yourself shell shocked and in awe at the Devil on top of you so much that you unconsciously nod in agreement to every single humiliatingly detailed sentence that comes out of his mouth. The topic isn’t about Jeonghan and you, but the sexual tension established between the two of you knocks on your pussy and makes your mouth go dry. Fuck, maybe he is right. Fucking other men over the span of time since you last saw Jeonghan could never amount to what you felt when you were fucked by the Devil. Lost in your delusions, you could only get off to what you couldn’t have. And when the world’s most untouchable creature is currently so close to you that the collar of his black tee hangs so low that you can peek through the hole to see the expanse of his lean body, the warning signals your brain is desperately trying to send you are unfortunately dispelled by the eagerness of wanting to take a second dip. 

“How much do you want me?” 

“Enough,” you reply while staring straight into his eyes.

He wastes no time by pulling out his cock from his sweats as you sit up from your previous position. Cold and hard are the two adjectives you can use to describe the feeling of him tracing his cock along your open lips. But he won’t let you touch him. He won’t let you kiss him. He lets you starve as your eyes flitter between his cock on your mouth and his deceivingly beautiful face as he pumps his cock. And he taps his member on your lips, telling you to open your mouth wider. And you can feel him slip himself through the hole you made, how the veins on the underside feel against the smooth and warm inner part of your lips. You’re hungry. Starving. Basically wishing that he’ll let you close your mouth around him and suck him to the point you’re reminded that he had no soul to begin with. 

So when he commands you to suck, you do as he says. You lick the tip, wetting and coating it with your saliva. Swirling your tongue around the length, you warm up the member in your mouth as more of his salty taste coats your tongue. Then you close your lips around him in a perfect “O” while shifting yourself on your knees so you can take him better. 

You suck, hollowing your cheeks while gliding your mouth along his length. God, how you bend so easily for him. Your eyelids flutter as you continue to take him along his curved length. And moan while your mouth is plugged, a muffled moan of ecstasy when you feel him twitch while sandwiched between your lips. To make matters worse, whenever you look up at him as you edge yourself to take him in further, you see that he looks perfectly composed. 

“Wider, slut,” he tells you while pumping what you can’t take. His hand is on your jaw again, and he squeezes your jaw between his long fingers so that it stays open. Your pool of saliva escapes the corners of your lips and trails along your chin before it drops on Wonwoo’s sheets. And he fucks himself in your mouth by manually moving your head along his length, barely giving you enough time to flatten your tongue against the whole of his length. He pushes his length into your mouth and groans when you gag. 

He fucks your mouth to find satisfaction and get off on your uncomfortableness, watching you moan while struggling to keep up with his pace. His hand leaves your jaw and attaches itself to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of hair as he uses it to swing your head back and forth like the ping pong ball attached to a paddle toy. The two of you know that the rate in which he fucks your mouth is too much for you, yet you find pleasure in being used by the higher being while he fucks your mouth to the sounds of you struggling against his cock and the wet smack of your lips when you spit him out after he comes. You swallow what you have and hurriedly wipe the liquid white off your chin and lips. You watch him tearfully as he finishes with his cock in his hand and his seed on the bedsheets and your thighs. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you stutter as his angry red length bounces in front of your teary eyes. You want to lean in again to put him between your lips before he can punish you. You want him to call you names and make you feel bad about yourself. You want him to pump himself while he looks at you attacking the slit on his tip like how you want him to eat you out. You want to swirl your tongue around the spongy smooth surface before using the tip of your tongue to dig into the area in which his precum emits. 

Your thighs rub together to ease the unsatisfied throb of your core. You need stimulation from him in any way. Just a kiss. A touch. Anything from Jeonghan would probably edge you to completion, but he doesn’t want to help you. And you don’t want to give up this opportunity with him.  

“I’m s-sorry Jeonghan. Jeonghan, I’m sorry. Please…,” you plead as you watch him look down on you with a face of disappointment. You want to physically reach out to him to tell him you’ll do better, to tell him to give you another chance. But you see him take a few steps backwards and you’re sent into a state of frenzied lust and panic. You’ve never been so desperate to please, to complete a request from a man. You’re so deluded by the Devil that it feels as if your entire world will end if you don't please him or hold yourself up to his standards. 

Gone is the man who called you his Angel the first time he met you. In front of you is the Devil who willfully draws you in, who has you stumbling off of your housemate’s bed just so that you can crawl your way over to him in your blissful haze. The more Yoon Jeonghan steps backwards, the more your vision tunnels on his body as you crawl across the bedroom floor, not caring about how uncomfortable the hardwood floor is underneath your palms and your knees. 

When you come to your senses, you realize that it’s a different kind of hardwood underneath your body. Your naked body is displayed on all fours on Jeonghan’s large mahogany office desk like an object on display. You don’t even remember if you had your clothes on in the first place. But it feels as if the Devil suddenly wanted to bring one of the several trinkets he has displayed along his office wall to play with at his desk. You were confident that you could show him how much you’ve changed since you last saw him. Yet he has a way of proving how wrong you are. You’re no match for the Devil, and he intends to keep it that way. And in a way, to be displayed in front of him, it makes you feel as if you’re one of his prized possessions. 

Your eyes watch him as he circles around his desk while he looks you up and down. He’s no longer in his t-shirt and sweats, but in a classic white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black tailored slacks. Golden and thin-wired circular glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. Protruding from the top of his head are his red horns. And this time, the long and forked tail that he previously kept hidden swishes behind his back. He brings the length of his long tail up to his left hand before tightly coiling it around the palm of his right hand like a long red rope. And one look from him through his glasses, a satisfying smirk and an arched brow, you know that you’re done for.

He takes the tip of his tail and traces it along your naked body, causing your body to jolt and shudder in response. He uses it like a teacher’s pointing stick, the tip running smoothly along the curvature of your body. He’s purposely toying with you, watching you try not to squirm every time he traces his tail anywhere near your glistening cunt. 

“Do you think it’s too stuffy in here?” He jests while planting himself at the edge of his desk behind your ass. It hits you that you heard this question before, and only now do you realize that the Devil has been playing with you all along. You feel him trace his tail along your cunt, letting a prong trace along your folds as if it were his finger. 

“Fuck!” you gasp out loud. “That was you?”

You feel the stinging pain on your ass after you hear the crisp slap ring into the air. Your stomach tightens as your pussy clenches in response.

“Shut the fuck up Yn,” he grunts. “Cumsluts can’t talk.”

You moan when you feel his tail go underneath a fold, causing your thighs to go weak. But he pulls his tail away from your core to tap it against your outer thigh. Hold yourself up, the action seems to say. So you gather your strength to maintain your position, ignoring the soreness in your knees and the fact that he’s been with you ever since you stepped into “Craig’s” office. When you spread your thighs, your sensitive cunt opens up like a flower in bloom, warm and wet against the stale office air. Jeonghan doesn’t ravish its beauty like how Minghao often does. He doesn’t want to. 

Although your forearms are tired and your thighs burn from exhaustion, your pussy pulsates like it’s its own living entity — full of life and eager to be filled. Right now, only Jeonghan can grant these conditions. And you’re willing to wait even if your horniness drives you mad. 

He firmly grabs your ass, angling it so that your glistening pussy is in full view. 

“From this point on, I’m going to make you scream my name like a requiem made for angels.” He forcefully pulls your ass back so that it’s pressed against his stomach while he leans over your figure so that his mouth is near your left ear. “I’ll ruin you if you try to crawl away. But I’d like to see you try.”

You’re pretty sure you already soaked his shirt in the place where your core was pressed against the fabric. It amazes you how he easily flips your body so that you’re laying flat on his desk with your legs propped up against the wood. Any further back, you would be in a mating press. 

You wonder if he can read your mind, how much you want to ride him up and down his length and for him to coat you so much that you’re left with soft and silken skin. Even if he tied your hands behind your back, you would still go on your knees to unbuckle his belt with your teeth. 

He’s been sensing your urgency since you summoned him. Looking at your sopping cunt and dragging the tip of his tail along your clit, he decides to ease the heat in your stomach by slowly pushing his tail into your core. You moan in response as you slowly adjust to its size, feeling everything from the way it fills your walls to the way it is as smooth as a glass dildo. You shudder at the way he pulls it out of you for a mere second before pushing it back into you, causing your stomach to twitch and your thighs to close around his hand.

He leaves his tail in you while he pries your thigh apart. 

“What’s the use in thinking about mounting my cock if you can’t even keep your legs open? What’s an ego if you can’t even embody it correctly?” he mocks you before bringing down the hand that once held his tail against your heat. The impact feels as hot as the way your arousal burns. You cry out in elated pleasure; one convulsion is enough to push the tail halfway out of you. “Useless excuse of a human,” he laughs at you before grunting as he pushes his tail back inside, twisting it as he plunges it in and out of you. “You’re all talk, yet you bend at the thought of me.” 

Cock-deprived, you clench around his tail as you gasp for air. Your pussy sucks the tail in and refuses to let go, making you mewl for Jeonghan to fuck you hard while he thrusts his tail in and out of you. “Nn-nh. Jeonghan! Ah- Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Use me.” You squeal and moan out loud as your high builds at an incredible speed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your back arches off the desk and you feel as if you’re levitating. “I’m gonna come.” 

“Come.”

You cream at his command, coating his instrument in a thick and white sheen. Your stomach folds inwards as you whimper from the pleasure. He pulls his tail out of you while coaxing more out of you by lightly tapping your nub as you convulse. Overstimulated, you come another time, babbling his name and telling him how good you feel as you squirt against his slender fingers. 

“Look at you,” he coos. “You made a mess on my table only from my tail. What’s going to happen when you take my cock? You’ve already folded yourself into a fucking fetal positon, Yn.” 

You can feel your liquid drip from your pussy to your ass before it pools on the table underneath you. You feel so relieved and relaxed from your high, but there is still this insatiable need for the Devil to fuck you.

When he does, his cock fills you and squeezes you dry. His head rubs against the top of your walls while his veins work like a ribbed toy — adding more pleasure than you have ever experienced. Fingers digging into your thighs, he pulls out and slams back into you, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You want to scream out his name as you clench around his length, sucking him in and never wanting to let go. But the image in front of you is a sight to behold, leaving you breathless as you watch it unfold.

You watch him through your half-lidded eyes, the scene of him as he throws his head back. You can see the way he swallows your cum that coats the tail he sucks in his mouth, how his Adam’s apple bobs when the liquid travels down his throat. You’re nothing but an instrument for his pleasure, and he sure knows how to show it. 

He bucks his length into you so that it kisses the deepest parts of you, causing you to gasp and quake in your stomach. And he keeps it there with his legs pressed against your ass and the underside of your thighs. Slowly grinding against you, he revels in how you choke from the size of him and how you clench and unclench as if you’re struggling to hold on. 

He pops the tail out of his mouth, a long string of saliva like a web between the tip of his prong and his tongue. He looks like a character from a lewd illustration, so beautiful yet so deadly. And you find yourself into another dimension as he thrusts further into you, grunting as he watches you scream for him.

“Fuck!,” you scream as you squeeze your eyes shut. “You’re going to tear me apart.”

“Gonna,” he grunts between every thrust, increasing his pace with every word. “Make. You. Feel. Everything.” 

Your entire body trembles with pleasure, your breathing erratic. He continues to thrust into you, talking with his sweet tongue about how your slick and puffy pussy drives him insane. 

“There’s nobody in this world who can fuck like I do,” he reminds you. “Now squeeze me hard as I cum in you. We’re going to be making a new type of liquid.”

Copyright © 2023 Himbocoups. All rights reserved.

[scarletlizzard]

Part 1: Get Help

Sessions Series

Pairing: psychiatrist Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: being stalked, paranoia, therapy, mentions of sex

Masterlist

Fall 2018

It was the same thing every day.

You wake up, make breakfast, and go for a run. You go to work, a normal 9-5 job downtown. After work, you would wind down by making dinner and sometimes taking a bath with a glass of wine. You go to bed around the same time every night, letting the sounds of I Love Lucy lull you to sleep.

Your routine was all but normal, though. You had a shadow.

Your daily jog was filled with turning your head, constantly aware of a presence behind you, one that you could never see. You thought it was over until one night when you were making dinner, you happened to look out the window and saw a person standing across the street. The glass of wine you were holding dropped from your hand onto the floor beneath your feet. You step back onto the glass and wince, tearing your eyes from the shapeless figure.

When you look up again, they've disappeared.

This happened for weeks until you finally gave in and told your friend one night over a bottle of wine.

"Look, this is them. They're back," you say, handing the phone to Natasha. She raises an eyebrow and looks at the blurry picture on the screen. Practically a black dot next to the bus stop a few houses down from yours.

"But why would they wait so long? It's been over a year, and.." she squints, staring at the picture. "That kind of just looks like a blob.." the woman says and sips her wine, a concerned look on her face at your frantic state.

"It's not. It's them! I-I swear I'm being followed, being watched... every where I go, it's like, I can feel them. The police won't do anything about it." You move your shaking hand away from her to gulp down the rest of your wine.

"Look, Y/N.." Natasha sighs and sets down her glass, turning her body to face yours. "I know you've been through a lot, everything that.. happened last summer. I think - maybe you should.. get some help." She tries to soften the blow of calling you crazy by resting a hand on your thigh. You only look to her with betrayed eyes.

"I'm not crazy," you speak calmly, your tone stern, but the crack in your voice only solidifies Natashas' point.

"I don't think you are, Y/N. Here.." She grabs her purse, pulling out a business card from it casually, as if she just happened to have it. You knew her better than that. "This is my friend. She's an amazing psychiatrist. Just talk to her, give it a chance."

You snatch the card away from her hands, not making eye contact with her. Natasha sighs again and stands, watching your leg bounce harder. She leans down to kiss your forehead.

"I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.." She trails off, unsure if you'd even reply.

"Love you." You mumble, pouring yourself another glass.

After she leaves, you stare at the business card in your hand, eyes settled on the name in bold lettering. You crumple the card, ball it up in your hand, and throw it across the room. It bounces off the wall with a small 'thunk'. Then you're left sitting, recalling the events of last summer.

***

Summer 2017

It was an exceptionally hot night. The air conditioner had been broke all day, leaving you sweating and fanning yourself with a magazine. Also leaving you with no choice but to leave the windows open, letting a cooler breeze flow through your quiet house.

You shot a quick text to Natasha- See you tomorrow, meet at the coffee shop near yours.

With a sigh, you rest your head on the back of the couch, listening to the voices on the TV. You get a strange feeling suddenly, your whole body covered in goosebumps, the small hairs on your arms standing straight up. You slowly open your eyes, staring straight ahead at the characters running around the screen.

"Get a grip, Y/N.." You mumble to yourself, patting your cheeks as if to wake yourself up. Maybe you just needed some sleep. Your anxiety seemed to be kicking up again. Your hands reach for the remote on the table in front of you, and you press the power button, turning the TV off.

It's then you see, in the black screen, reflecting an image not only of you but a person standing directly behind you.

***

Current Fall 2018

No, I'm NOT doing this right now.

You think to yourself, swallowing down your third glass of wine for the night. Instead, you get up to double -no, triple- check all of the locks in your house. The windows to the backyard, locked. The sliding glass backdoor, locked. The windows to the front of the house, locked. The front door, locked. The side door leading to the garage, locked. Windows in any bedrooms, locked. Your bedroom door and window, locked.

It was exhausting, but it was a routine you had been following for the past year. It kept you safe. You turn on I Love Lucy, drifting off into another nightmare with your mysterious shadow.

The morning after, you awake to your alarm and slap your hand on your loud phone to slide it off. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The morning sun shines brightly in the room, the light warm on your skin.

I am NOT crazy...

You repeat to yourself over and over, a mantra easily spoken and believed in your mind. Breakfast was made and eaten, running shoes tied to your feet, laces double knotted, ID and cash in case of emergencies, and headphones settle snug in your ears. The first mile was fine, humming along to your music, and enjoying the cold fall. It was when you were heading back towards your house that you began to have that unsettling feeling.

Your panicked eyes look around as you jog, your head constantly turning from side to side as you look for your shadow. You find yourself reaching into your pocket, letting your hand grab onto the pepper spray you had brought with you. Only a little ways to go. It's fine.

Your pace sped up, but your shadow was creeping up closer to you. Your heart was racing. Sweat was dripping down your forehead. With your thumb gripping the spray, you suddenly turn around, spraying the shadow behind you.

"Ahhh! What the fuck!" A man screams, falling to his knees in front of you. Your heart was beating out of your chest at the sight of him, rubbing his eyes and screaming in pain. But on the sidewalk in front of him you see your emergency clip that held your cash and ID.

"Jason! Oh my god, what did you do to him?" A woman comes running up to his side, sliding her arm around him. "Are you crazy? You dropped this. He was trying to give it back to you!" She screams at you, throwing the clip in your direction. Dollar bills fly to the ground, and you back up.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know, I thought he was - I didn't know.." Your voice trails off as you shake your head, hands shaking. "I didn't know.." You repeat it 4 times.

"Y/N, you're lucky he didn't press charges, I can't believe you actually pepper sprayed him.." Natashas voice sounded from the phone in your hand as you recall the events from the morning.

"I know, I can't believe I did either. I feel so fucking bad about it.." you hold your head in your hand, guilt filling your gut.

"It happened. There's nothing you can do about it now. He'll be fine.. people get pepper sprayed all the time," she tries to joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

You sit up and sigh into the phone, looking around the room. The TV playing, the dusty art supplies sitting on a desk in the corner. Your eyes find and focus on the crumpled business card on the floor by the wall. As you stand, your feet carry you over, picking it up.

"I'll talk to you later, Nat," you say, letting her say goodbye before you hang up. Your hands straighten out the card, and you once again read the name in bold lettering.

The clock on the wall read 5:28 as you sat, one day after work, on a chair in the hallway near the front door. You look around the hallway that leads to a massive house. It seemed the front was used for her practice, a room on either side of the hallway. One you assumed an office, the other a room to meet with patients. The clock ticked to 5:29, and your leg began to bounce.

The door on the wall across from you opens, revealing a brown headed woman with a warm smile on her face. She was taller, a creme colored blouse and brown pants settled on her legs. Her familiar green eyes find yours, and you both let out a small, awkward chuckle.

"Y/N.." Wanda says and holds out her hand to you, watching as you stand in front of her.

Your hand reaches for hers, "Wanda.." Her hand is warm and soft in yours. You know you linger too long in her grip. She leads you into room number two, a medium-sized room with one big, comfortable looking chair and an even more comfortable looking couch. Behind her comfy chair was an extravagant looking fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls, and as you walked inside, your fingers trail the spines of the books that sat on them. It felt comfortable and safe. The sun was beginning to set, and an orange glow filled the room. Wanda sits in a chair, a notepad, and pen in her lap. You follow suit, sitting across from her on the couch.

"So, are you sure you want to do this? I'd be more than happy to recommend you to some other, highly recommended, co-workers of mine?" Wanda says with a smile, and you can't help but blush. She just had that effect on you.

"As long as you're okay with it, I am. I trust you, and right now, I really need that.." You mumble the last part, sitting back into the couch. Wanda nods, understanding of you.

One of the last times you saw Wanda she was in your bed, giving you what still stands today, the best orgasms of your life. Natasha had thrown a Christmas party where you met. You and Wanda came alone. You both had a lot to drink, and one thing led to another. You spent the night talking and laughing, getting to know each other as you came on her fingers. After that, you saw her from time to time, over a couple of months. She let you eat her out on your couch and fucked you against the counter in your kitchen. It was the best sex you'll probably ever have. You felt more alive with her than you had in years.

But then you had to leave town for work, and by the time you came back, the two of you had lost touch. Then, a few months after, during the summer, when your shadow appeared, you cut practically everyone out of your life.

"Well then, let's get started," Wanda interrupts your train of thoughts with a click of her pen, crossing her legs. "I reviewed the file you sent over from your stay at the Bay Point Medical Center. Do you want to talk about that?" She asks, her voice as smooth as honey.

You let out a shaky sigh, playing with the zipper of the bag you held in your lap. "I've always been.. anxious, since I was a kid. Always had these uh, routines. Tie my shoes until they felt right, flick the lights 4 times before bed."

"Were you ever diagnosed or tested as a kid?"

"No, my mom didn't believe in that sort of thing."

"So you were first diagnosed with OCD and Bipolar Disorder at Bay Point." Wanda makes a note. You tap your leg 4 times.

"Yes."

"So what led you to that moment, to that night?" Her voice is so inviting. You would tell her just about anything at this point.

"I'm sure it says in the file.." You clear your throat, suddenly being unable to look her in the eyes.

"There is a version, but I'd like to hear yours." Her eyebrows raise, pen hovering over the paper of the pad.

"It was a few days after I saw my shadow," you start, Wanda has a curious look on her face.

A pause.

"Your shadow?" She asks, you nod.

"The stalker, person watching me." You reply, she nods for you to continue. "I hadn't slept in days. The police didn't believe me. There was no evidence, they said, that anyone besides me had been in the house that night. So I went to the docks, and I-I bought a gun from some junkie. I'm not proud of what I did," you say, meeting her comforting gaze.

"I'm sure. You hadn't slept in days. You were delusional - sleep deprived. No medication, no diagnosis. Under extreme stress. Given the circumstances, I'm glad no one was hurt." Wanda concurs.

"Well, maybe not physically. But when you wave a gun around at 3 in the morning down the street, maybe a little psychological damage to the family that found me," you groan and put your head in your hands.

"The report said you had left a note at your house. What did it say?" Wanda asks, and you think back to when you scribbled on a piece of paper, what you thought would be, your last words. You're quiet for a moment. Wanda can tell you won't answer that question just yet.

"How about, who did you leave it for?" She asks.

"For my shadow."

The rest of the session you had spilled about your feelings that night and talked about you OCD and Bipolar disorder. You told her about your stay at the mental hospital, and told her about your routines. You spoke to her of almost everything.

"I think this session was really productive, Y/N. You've been very open with me, and I appreciate that." Wanda stood at the front door, smiling down to you. It was dark now, the sun at set completely. "I'll see you at the same time, Thursday?"

You nod and smile back at her. "I'll see you then." You walk to your car, feeling lighter. But you also can't ignore the hair on the back of your neck rising as you drive away.

***

Summer 2017

You scream loudly as you turn to see a figure behind you. A shadow, dressed in all black. A white faceless mask covered their true face. They stand still as you back away, slowly tilting their head to the side.

"Run." A menacing whisper, a familiar tone.

You run.

[suzukiblu]

NaNoWriMo fic, day one: obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

"You're working for Cadmus," Tim says slowly. "Cadmus, as in the lab that stole Superman's body and cloned him without his consent. Cadmus, which you had to break out of so they couldn't put mind control code words in your head."

"Yeah," Superboy replies like that's not literally insane. Tim stares at him.

"Why?" he asks incredulously.

"Food and shelter?" Superboy shrugs. "And I mean, I dunno, where else am I gonna go?"

Tim is not okay with this situation.

"What did Superman say?" he says.

"Just to like, keep an eye on things," Superboy says with another shrug. "Make sure they're not up to anything shifty."

Tim stares at him.

"Superman," he says. "Told you to just . . . 'keep an eye on' the dubiously ethical cloning lab. The specific dubiously ethical cloning lab that tried to put mind control code words in your head. Specifically."

"Yeah," Superboy confirms.

Alright, Tim is actually even less okay with this situation than he thought, apparently. Like, impressively less.

"Okay," he says. It is absolutely no kind of okay in any way whatsoever, of course, but he doesn't want to put Superboy on the defensive. That'd make effectively interrogating him a lot harder, for one thing. Cooperative subjects are best in these situations. "What are they paying you?"

"I mean, like, they gave me my own room and they're feeding me and whatever, so I don't really need much money," Superboy says. "There's a discretionary fund I can use if I need to go on an undercover mission or anything like that? But I'm not really the undercover type anyway."

"Sure," Tim says. So . . . no way for Superboy to save up to move out and get an out-of-lab life, then. Great. That's not fucked-up or crazy or horrible at all. "Do you like it there?"

"It's okay," Superboy says, shrugging again. "Better than literally everybody in Hawaii yelling at me every time they see my face, yeah?"

Tim wants to set the world on fire, but he's trying really hard not to go supervillain before he's thirty and he'd hate to throw out all that hard work.

"They just let me do whatever, mostly," Superboy adds. "They don't really care as long as I'm around when they need me."

He'll go supervillain as soon as Bruce dies, Tim promises himself. Just–he'll give his share of the eulogy at the funeral and then he'll blow up three-fourths of Arkham and the entire GCPD while Commissioner Gordon is on his lunch break. He can time that out, that'll be easy. And then he'll go and personally murder the Joker with the very specific combination of a rusty crowbar and a shrapnel bomb, and then he'll just . . . well, he'll just go with the flow from there, he figures. Do whatever feels natural.

Seriously, the world as it is does not deserve to exist. It really just does not.

Tim figures he can probably convince the rest of Young Justice to tag along for the whole supervillain thing and hopefully Dick and Steph and Barbara too, and ideally also Alfred, in the unfortunately likely event that he outlives Bruce. He's got time to lay the groundwork with them all and all, and also everything really is awful and horrible and really does deserve to burn.

"Are they sending you to school or anything? Or tutoring you?" Tim asks with what little scraps of hope he has left. Higher education would be . . . well, something, at least. And actually it probably wouldn't hurt for Superboy to learn a bit more about genetic engineering from the same place he got genetically engineered, just in case anything goes wrong with his DNA again. Cadmus should at least be good for that much, right?

"Ew, no, thank fuck," Superboy says, making a face. "Like I said, they mostly let me do whatever until something needs punched."

So . . . no furthered education or learning any usable job skills or making real money or literally anything that could, again, lead to Superboy ever getting any kind of an actual out-of-lab life established.

Great.

Just great.

"I see," Tim says.

"It's a pretty sweet gig, considering," Superboy says, and grins brightly at him. It's a very nice grin. Normally being faced with that particular grin would make Tim need to beat down the highly unprofessional urge to kiss it.

Right now, though, he's a little bit more concerned with the fact that his teammate is just . . . living in and working for a fucking lab. As a matter of course. Just as a thing.

And Superman of all people thinks that's . . . fine, for some reason? Like, normal and ethical and okay? Somehow? In some way?

What the actual fuck, Tim thinks to himself.

"You said Superman told you to keep an eye on things?" he asks.

"Yeah," Superboy says, his grin widening. "He took me to his fortress and asked me to do it there. Showed me around a bit, too."

"That sounds really interesting," Tim says, wondering in vague disbelief if that means Superman had never taken Superboy to the Fortress of Solitude before. He must've, right? And just . . . inexplicably not shown Superboy around then.

Yeah. Sure.

"It was awesome!" Superboy says with more enthusiasm than Tim's seen from him since they met Nina Dowd's . . . endowments, seemingly forgetting the need to be "cool" for long enough to lean forward in his seat and outright beam at him. Tim is gonna need a minute to recover from the sight of that expression, probably. "It's seriously freaking freezing up there, but there's so much cool shit in the place. Like, from all over the universe, but from Krypton, even! The only thing I'd ever seen from Krypton before was kryptonite!"

Tim considers moving up his supervillain timeline after all. Like. Just possibly. Just a little.

Maybe he can convince Bruce to take an early retirement off-planet and just go from there.

What the hell is wrong with Superman?

"Oh, wow, really?" Tim says, simultaneously pretending he didn't already know what Superman has in his fortress and trying not to be screamingly obvious about the internal calculations he's running on figuring out how to weaponize red sunlight. Or like, maybe he could look into learning some magic. That's technically an option. Probably more time-consuming and harder to hide the process of, though. Still, it's on the table.

"Yeah. He showed me some of it. Told me some stories and stuff, even," Superboy says, and that excited grin turns just a little bit shy and soft and somehow even more distracting than usual. He ducks his head just a little, and then that soft grin is more like a soft smile, and Tim suffers. "And I, uh–and he gave me something, too."

"What did he give you?" Tim asks, praying to God that the answer is "an emergency contact number" or "an allowance that can cover a semi-decent Metropolis apartment" or "an offer to live literally anywhere but Cadmus, including in the thirtieth century or on a hostile alien planet or inside an active volcano". He's technically an atheist, so the praying thing is probably moot, but times of desperation are times of desperation.

"A name," Superboy says, and his smile widens helplessly. "Like, you know, a real one."

Tim might hate Superman, he thinks. That might actually be a thing now.

Yeah, he's definitely going supervillain after Bruce dies and doesn't need an emotional support sidekick anymore. Better start stocking up on the kryptonite.

"That's great," he says with a very carefully not-forced smile of his own instead of anything more along the lines of "wait, you've been alive and active as a superhero for all this time and no one ever actually named you?!" Superboy would probably take it the wrong way, not in the least because that genuinely never actually occurred to him as being a thing before. Like–he really did just assume Superboy was keeping a lid on whatever his real name was for personal reasons or Superman reasons or something. "Are you allowed to tell me it, or is that a no-go?"

"Oh, yeah," Superboy says with a sheepish laugh, rubbing at his arm. "It's like, a Kryptonian name? Not like a secret identity one. It's, uh, Kon-El."

Of course it's not even a damn secret identity, Tim thinks in absolute frustration and abject loathing. Of course not! Why would it be?! Fuck forbid!

"I like it," he says, because he lies to Batman and therefore there is no fucking way that he's going to let Superboy–Kon–see any sign whatsoever of the metaphorical 9.9 on the Richter scale that is currently happening in his psyche. "It suits you."

"You think?" Kon grins all the wider. Tim can't even calm down enough to want to kiss him, except in the sense that he always wants to kiss him.

"I do," he says, and smiles at him again.

Kon smiles back.

Tim hates everything. All the things. There is nothing that Tim doesn't hate right now, except maybe Alfred's snickerdoodles because he might be having a nervous breakdown but he's not, like, criminally insane or whatever.

Yet.

"Yeah, it's kinda cool," Kon says, straightening up in his seat and then leaning back, clearing his throat and slipping his sunglasses back on like they're not in a literal cave right now. Tim doesn't call him on it, because he has a supervillain timeline to work out and that's much more important.

Also because the teammate he has an inadvisable crush on is in a much, much shittier situation than he ever realized and he has to reconcile that with his worldview and also his opinion of Superman. Tim doesn't especially idolize the man except in the sense of knowing he's one of the greatest heroes on Earth and a very, very good man that Bruce thinks incredibly highly of, one of the best men on the League and maybe even on the planet, but . . .

But if he's such a good man, then why the hell is Kon living in a lab that tried to mind-control him and why has he only just seen the Fortress of Solitude for the first time?

Why didn't he have a real name?

"So do we call you Kon or Kon-El now?" Tim asks, which is a bit of a senseless question but also at least a bit of a distraction. He wants to say this whole situation is a horrible idea, who the FUCK convinced you this situation was a good idea?!, but there is no possible way that Kon would respond well to that. Ever.

Also, Kon had a point. Where else is he gonna go?

Clearly not the Fortress of Solitude.

Seriously, would it be that hard for Superman to give him a room there? At least a place to stay sometimes, so he wasn't exclusively relying on the mind-control cloning lab for food and shelter and basic comforts?

"I think just Kon?" Kon says, frowning consideringly. "'El' is like Superman's last name, I guess? So I think just Kon."

"Makes sense," Tim says, internally seething. Superman gave him the "El" name but not a secret identity? A name from a dead civilization with a bit of sentimental value, maybe, but nothing usable on this planet? Fuck, you'd think Kon didn't already know his secre–

. . . Kon doesn't know Superman's secret identity, does he.

Tim had thought he was lying, when he'd said that stuff about Superman not having one, before. Thought it was supposed to be a cover or a misdirection or something. But Kon actually thinks that, doesn't he. And Superman has just . . . kept letting him think that.

Becoming a supervillain actually might be an underreaction, in retrospect.

"Just Kon sounds less formal anyway," Tim says instead of so just in theory, do you think tactile telekinesis could trigger a heart attack or stroke in a full-blooded Kryptonian, if you could REALLY concentrate on doing it? like not FATALLY, just dehabilitatingly?, because he still has some groundwork to do before they get that far into potential supervillainy. There's steps to the plan. The steps need to be followed. They're very important steps. "You don't want Bart full-naming you every time he's looking for the remote."

"Like he'd even bother, it's faster for him to turn the living room upside-down than actually ask anyway," Kon says with a laugh, dropping his head back on his neck. Tim has some thoughts about climbing into his lap and figuring out if the TTK makes him hickey-proof, and then buries them. Not appropriate. Not professional. Just not.

. . . technically, if Kon wanted a hickey, he could just let his TTK down and ask for–

Tim buries his thoughts deeper.

Much, much deeper.

"Point," he says. "So what time does Cadmus expect you back?"

"Dude, it's a job, not a boarding school," Kon says, giving him an amused look. "I don't have a curfew."

Tim, technically, hasn't followed his own curfew any way but accidentally once in his entire life, but for god's sake, is Cadmus even pretending to be raising a teenager or are they really just being that flagrant about ignoring all the child labor laws they so clearly do not give a fuck about? Like, there must be something illegal about this. There has to be.

If there's not, Tim will be adding "burn down Project Cadmus" to his list of supervillain plans to set up in advance. In red pen. Underlined.

Twice.

God, why is the world like this. Why are people like this?

"I guess that'd be convenient," Tim says, internally ranking various methods of combustion. "Though I guess it depends on the cafeteria hours, too."

"It's whatever, I can always eat later," Kon replies with a shrug. "I think I've still got a couple protein bars in my room anyway."

"Just protein bars?" Tim asks, mentally upping the amount of explosives he was considering going with. Cadmus is going to be a crater by the time he's done with it. "Don't you need more calories than that?"

". . . well, sort of," Kon says, folding his arms and looking very briefly embarrassed. "Superman doesn't have to eat, apparently, but, uh, guess I'm not Kryptonian enough for that. Actually I kinda need to eat more than normal humans, it's weird. Like. A lot more."

"I'm ordering pizza," Tim says, upping his mental explosives count again. "What do you want on it?"

"We're the only ones here," Kon says, looking puzzled.

"More pizza for us, then," Tim says.

[ihavethedreamies]

Mine | Jaemin

Na Jaemin - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~9.3k

Pairing: Jaemin x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Fluff, Jealousy, Friends-to-Lovers, Smut

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fluffy Smut

Author's Note: This is for my bestest friend in the world. Jaemin is her ultimate favorite and this might very well make her explode. Which is the goal. She didn't ask for smut, but… That is why it’s a bit more…fluffy/vanilla than my other stuff, because it's for her >3>

There is a bit of cross-over between groups here. Changbin and Felix of Stray Kids are in it directly and Wooyoung of ATEEZ is mentioned.

Fun Fact: the middle pic in the banner is actually of Hyunjin

Edit (8/25/24): I changed the text/chat pictures to just text.

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"Hey, you know my friend Changbin?" your friend asked as she applied her lip balm, looking in a handheld mirror. You simply blinked at this, considering it wasn’t even tinted and you pondered why she needed the mirror.

"Yes?" You shook your head, looking back to your laptop. You and Yuna were sitting at a table in one of the on-campus cafés . Studying in the library was hard because you two could get kind of rowdy and it was hard to stay quiet.

"He’s been trying to get me to set him up with one of my girl friends…" She drifted off, casting you a not very subtle look. You had never seen the guy, just knew he was a gym rat, and he was friends with your ex. Rubbing your eye as your vision blurred from staring at your screen too long, she leaned into your blind spot, which startled you when your eye refocused.

"What?" You grumbled and she sighed dramatically, resting her cheek on the table.

"Please?" She immediately started to beg, just repeating the word over and over.

"Oh my god, fine!" You relented. A bit hesitant since he was so close with Wooyoung. You weren’t sure if it was a good idea to go out with a friend of your ex.

"What if we do a double date?" Yuna could tell you were a bit hesitant, and the thought of tag-teaming was better.

"Okay, like a double blind-date thing?" you asked, and her face lit up.

"Yes! Bring me someone hot." She winked and you huffed. Going over your own friend group in your head, you tried to figure out who was best for her. You immediately threw your roommate Jisung out. He was way too shy and quiet for her, and she was a lot for anyone. Chenle was also out, that would be way too much loud in your life since he essentially lived with you as well with how much he was over. Renjun wasn’t Yuna’s type, she doesn’t go out with guys she claims are prettier than her. Mark was…something was going on with Yuta that you didn’t have the time to ponder on. Donghyuck could work but he, surprisingly, was pretty serious when it came to dating and wasn’t a fan of flings. Jeno? He could work, but you were pretty sure he was supposed to be going somewhere for a cycling race. That left Jaemin. The thought made your stomach twinge a bit, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. His stupid goofy grinning face flashed in your mind and quickly changed to the cocky smirk he wore when he flirted. Which he did a lot. You decided you were nervous for Yuna because he was such a flirt, but then again, so was she. Deep down you knew you had a bit of a crush on him despite the fact that you declared you never would. Every time some guy rose in popularity on campus, they were immediately disqualified. He had been your friend before that happened to him, but you begrudgingly followed the crowd as he rose to be number one pretty fast. I mean, you weren’t surprised, you had eyes. Jeno was also really high up there, but he seemed more like a brother to you. He was like a sweet puppy dog, Jaemin was more like a lion. Lazy and beautiful.

"I’ll ask Jaemin…" You mumbled to yourself, and she perked up.

"Wait, Na Jaemin?"

"Yes? That okay?"

"Fuck yeah, that’s okay, holy shit!" She cackled to herself, and you grumbled, typing out a quick message to him.

☀️: Wanna go on a blind date? 🐰: Why would I be blind? ☀️: You know what I mean dumbass. 🐰: who ☀️: My friend Yuna. She wants to set me up with her friend and so we decided to do a double. 🐰: you too? ☀️: Yeah that's what I mean by double... 🐰: who ☀️: Her friend Changbin. He's one of Wooyoung's friends too. 🐰: hm

What did that mean? There were two ends of the spectrum of messaging Jaemin. You either got very short answers like right then, or way too many emojis.

🐰: hm 🐰: works out a lot? ☀️: Yeah, him. 🐰: hm ☀️: What does that mean? 🐰: wouldn't you like to know

You rolled your eyes and waited as the little dots bounced as he typed. Then they would stop, then start, then stop. What the hell was taking him so long.

🐰: wouldn't you like to know ☀️: You good, fam? 🐰: yeh, i shall go ☀️: You shall? I didn't even say when... 🐰: when then

"When are you thinking?" You turned to Yuna who was typing on her phone, probably with her guy friend.

"Friday night, 7?" She didn’t even look up from her phone.

"Where?" You got ready to relay the information.

"Uh…he told you to pick." She sniggered at something else on her phone, so you went back to yours.

🐰: when then ☀️: Friday at 7. 🐰: where ☀️: You decide. 🐰: hmm ☀️: Hurry up, I need to keep working. 🐰: have your computer program decide ☀️: I'm coding a program for the periodic table it can't do that.

He was getting on your nerves, and you pondered why the hell you even liked him. For probably everything else but how he texted, but that was beside the point.

☀️: I'm coding a program for the periodic table it can't do that. 🐰: taeyong's place ☀️: That's expensive... 🐰: so? ☀️: Not all of us are financially stable. 🐰: I...will pay~ ☀️: You will? 🐰: not for him ☀️: I'll make sure it's okay...

"Ask him if he’s okay going somewhere fancy. Our friend started as a chef at some place called Kwangya, but it’s pricey. Jaemin said he’ll pay for us." You put your phone down to pull up the website to get an idea of the prices. It wasn’t like a Michelin star-level place or anything, but it was nicer than most college students would usually go for. Looking over the menu you saw the cheapest entrée was still like twenty dollars.

"Oh shit, that looks good, let me ask him." Yuna leaned in, resting her cheek on your shoulder to look at your screen, then she went back to her phone.

"He said that’s perfect, he’ll pay for you he said." Your friend wiggled her eyebrows, and you exhaled through your nose.

☀️: I'll make sure it's okay... ☀️: You're in luck. He's in and will pay for me too. 🐰: no ☀️: No? 🐰: i pay ☀️: It wouldn't make sense for you to pay for me and your date... 🐰: I pay ☀️: Okay, whatever, you two can figure it out then... 🐰: wear pink ☀️: That's not your decision. 🐰: hm

You rolled your eyes; he was so freaking odd sometimes…Most times. After all the details got ironed out, you both went back to studying and working before heading your separate ways around four. When you got back to your apartment, your eyes immediately found a foreign pair of shoes by the door. Jisung was always sure to put his on the shoe rack with yours, and Chenle’s were simply thrown somewhere on the floor, but these were set nicely by the rack. Who was there? Dolphin laughter could be heard from the living room, and you guessed Chenle had maybe brought someone. Jisung didn’t have too many people he knew past the other six. The rest of their friends would almost all just have their shoes in a pile or would use the rack…

"Noona~" Chenle shouted in delight as you came in and you couldn’t hide a smile.

"Hi, Lele."

"Did you get your program finished?" Jisung’s much quieter and deeper voice brought your attention as he came out of the laundry room. There definitely was third person there, an unfamiliar bag was resting against the coffee table. Maybe they were in the bathroom.

"Who is here?" you asked and Jisung stiffened, worried you might be upset. Little did he know, you could never be upset with your most precious.

"My friend Felix." Chenle was strewn across your armchair.

"The one from Australia?" You made sure you got it right and he nodded. He was looking at his phone as he typed, a growing look of distaste spreading over his face.

"What’s wrong?" Jisung asked the other guy, moving to sit back down on the couch, picking up his laptop. You could hear the washer going and you really hoped he didn’t put too much soap in again. As you joined them in the living room, you set your bag down next to the couch and flopped on the opposite end of your roommate.

"Jaemin." Is all he said, and you rolled your eyes, understanding his sentiment. Guess he was being weird with everyone today.

"I hope it’s okay, I might have stained the sink…" A deep voice caught you off guard and you turned so fast to see the owner your neck popped. He was…beautiful.

"What do you mean?" You finally registered his comment after a few seconds of staring.

"His pen leaked." Jisung answered and Felix showed you the faded blue stain on his hands.

"Oh, that’s okay." You assured him, still gaping. He came to sit back on the floor at the coffee table and gave you a smile made of sunshine.

"I’m Felix."

"Right, yes, I’m (Y/N)." You introduced and Chenle burst out laughing.

"You’re going on a double date with Jaemin?" The second youngest looked at you and you groaned, slumping further into the couch.

"I’m not going with him. I set him up with Yuna and she set me up with her friend." You corrected.

"Yuna? Song Yuna?" Felix asked and you nodded as you straightened back up.

"Oh, I’m friends with her too. Who is she setting you up with?" He looked up from the pen that he was holding, probably a little weary it might leak as well.

"Changbin?" When you spoke the name, his face shifted from slight worry of the writing device to an amused look. He sputtered a laugh, and you weren’t sure how to take that.

"You dated Wooyoung right?"

"Yes?"

"He’s going to have a field day…"

"Why?" Was that a good or bad thing?

"Changbin’s liked you since before you broke up with Woo." The blonde huffed another laugh as he started to jot down notes from his textbook.

"Seriously? I’ve never even seen him… How did he know about me?"

"You were Woo’s background. You might still be, actually…" He mentioned it so casually, but you were once again shocked. You had broken up like four months prior.

"She’s Jaemin’s background too." Chenle had begun to chew aggressively on some licorice. Your licorice.

"Hey, give that back!" You stood so you could confiscate the candy and he whined pitifully and loudly. Then what he said hit you as you sat back down.

"I’m Jaemin’s background?!"

"It’s that picture of when you and Renjun fell in the mud at the park." Jisung finished and you sighed, rolling your eyes. He always had the embarrassing pictures.

"She’s still Wooyoung’s background?" The youngest turned to Felix.

"I think so…" The three boys fell back into the lull of whatever they were doing, and you sat and pondered.

"When are you going on the double date?" Jisung’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"Day after tomorrow, why?" You looked up from your phone and he looked deep in thought before he looked at his own phone.

"Just curious. I’m going to Chenle’s for a movie marathon."

"Avengers!" the other boy cheered.

"Where are you going?" Felix piped up and you were once again floored by his deep voice, especially with that pretty face.

"Kwangya. Our friend Taeyong just got the position of head chef." you replied.

"He’s such a good cook." Jisung added and you nodded.

"That place is expensive…" the eldest boy was scrolling through his phone, presumably looking at the menu, then he giggled.

"Order the most expensive thing possible if hyung is paying." His mischievous smile was freaking adorable. You snapped, and pointed at him, "sure thing."

"Oh my god, I am so freaking excited." Yuna bounced as she leaned over your vanity, putting her lipstick on. Since Jaemin had told you to wear pink, you had your friend do so instead. Her dress was light pink with plum blossoms printed over the fabric, the tight dress ended about midthigh and had an asymmetric over-the-shoulder top. You were a bit worried about her walking in the tallest heels she owned, but she liked being near the same height as her date. She had her hair up in a curled ponytail and long pink crystal earrings. You had already gotten ready and had a natural makeup look on with pretty much just mascara, eyeliner, and lipgloss. Your dress was a deep purple with a high keyhole style top. There was a belt around the upper part of your waist and as the dress flowed down the purple faded into black at the end of a circle skirt. Your tallest heels were barely even heels, but they were black, and you had dark sheer tights on as well. Your black metallic hoops matched the bangle you had on your left wrist and the rings on your index and ring fingers of your right hand. Your hair was tied back and flowed down your back in loose curls. Not normally one for manicures, Yuna had gotten you both press on nails instead and yours were almond shaped, simply black with silver accents. Hers were the same pink as her dress with cherry blossoms. She couldn’t find plum blossoms, but most people didn’t know the difference anyway.

"I hope he meets your expectations." You huffed and she rolled her eyes.

"Girl, I know what he looks like, I couldn’t care less about his personality. I even broke out my fancy panties." She smiled and for some reason this really bothered you. You honestly didn’t know if Jaemin was the type to sleep with a girl on the first date, he didn’t talk much about his love life around you. You shifted on your feet, reaching behind you to adjust the band of your bra through the fabric of your dress. Your bra and panties were somewhat plain, just black with a little bit of lace. It didn’t matter anyway. Even if you really liked Changbin you weren’t going to bed him on that first date. Unless he was like…really freaking hot, which was a possibility. For some reason though, even thinking about it made you feel guilty. The thought of Yuna sleeping with Jaemin made you feel even worse, and you tried to ignore it.

"Is my makeup okay?" She shoved her lipstick back in her little bag, white with a gold chain.

"Yes. Mine?" She looked over your face quickly and clicked her tongue.

"Of course. Why’d you even ask?" She grumbled and you giggled as she fixed a few stray hairs, then you went out to your living room to wait. Jisung had left only about fifteen minutes prior, peeking his head into your room to say buy. He got a faint dusting on his cheeks seeing you all pretty and dressed up and he mumbled something as he left. Not even two seconds after you sat in your armchair, your phone went off.

🐰: Here ☀️: The restaurant? You're like twenty minutes early. 🐰: your building ☀️: Oh, I thought we were meeting there? 🐰: coming up

You shook your head; he had been acting weird the last few days and you wondered why he even agreed to this whole double date. He didn’t seem particularly into it… When your door buzzed, you didn’t even get up as you heard him keying in your door code.

"He knows your code?"

"They all do. They tend to come here when they are drunk." You shrugged, still looking at your phone. You had been scrolling through your pictures and deleting everything of you and Wooyoung. It still irked you a bit that you might still his phone background, but you weren’t going to tell him to take it off, what if it wasn’t? You weren’t sure if he knew about your date with Changbin either, and you hoped your past relationship didn’t come up. When Jaemin finally entered, you heard him coming down the hall, evidently still in his shoes. You were going to scold him when he finally came into view, but your words fizzled out. Fuck. He was wearing a white blazer over a black dress shirt. Said shirt was unbuttoned at the top, not starting till a little above the end of his sternum. A tie was tied around his neck loosely, the two ends tucked into his shirt, highlighting the exposed skin. His slacks were black as well as his shoes, and his silver-colored hair was styled up just enough to stay out of his eyes. When your eyes met his after you had scanned his outfit, the look was so intense it made you flinch.

"Fuck." Yuna whispered and you cleared your throat, standing and grabbing your bag.

"Ready?" he asked, forcing his gaze away from you. His face softened into a cocky smirk as Yuna came to stand with you.

"Yuna, right?" He scratched his neck casually and she nodded, giving her best smirk.

"Yes. Everyone knows who you are Na Jaemin." She finally stepped up to him and linked her arm around his.

"Let’s go." You forced a smile onto your face and led them out of the apartment so you could head to the restaurant. As they flirted in the elevator, it was like you could only kind of hear them, your ears ringing like you had gotten hit in the head.

"Is Changbin meeting us there still?" you asked Yuna, and she nodded.

"He should get there around the time we do." Leading them to the small parking garage next to your building, you get in the car and wait for the other two. Jaemin held the door open for your friend and she got into the back where he joined her. You felt more like a chauffeur like that, but you just swallowed down the bitter thoughts and left the garage to head the right way. When you arrived, the valet took your vehicle and there was a guy waiting outside near the door. He was short for a man but still a bit taller than you, and holy fuck was he built. He had a white button down on, the buttons struggling to contain him. A black vest struggled over the shirt as well, and his black tie rested perfectly on his chest. The sleeves were half rolled up near his elbows, his forearms on display. A thick black watch drew your gaze to his hands, a simple silver band on his index finger. His slacks, also black, hugged his thick thighs wonderfully and you wondered if they would split from the strain if he moved the wrong way.

"Woah." He whispered, recognizing your presence when Yuna shouted his name. He came to stand in front of you, his gaze was scanning but polite. You watched carefully as his eyes trailed over your face and neckline, before quickly jumping to your waist and legs.

"You’re even more beautiful in person." He smiled and your face warmed. He took your smaller hand in his where it was rested on your bag, bringing it to his face and placing a light kiss on your knuckles. You heard Jaemin scoff lightly, and you chose to ignore it, focusing on the man before you.

"Let’s go in, I’m starved." your friend groaned dramatically and Jaemin held the door open for her, very pointedly letting it go when Changbin followed. That gave him the opportunity to hold it open for you though, and you nodded in thanks with a smile as you entered the restaurant.

"We have a reservation for seven." Yuna leaned against the podium where the host was as she typed into the tablet.

"Name?"

"Song."

"For four?"

"Yep."

"Please follow me." She grabbed four menus and led you into the establishment to a table in the back corner. The place was busy, but thanks to the ritzy environment, it wasn’t overly loud. The black and white décor and furniture were accented with different kinds of plants and other green things. Jaemin moved to sit down, pulling the chair next to him out. You waited for Yuna to sit but Jaemin was staring at you. Changbin shot Jaemin a look you didn’t notice, but your friend did. Changbin did much the same, sitting across from you and casually pulling the chair back with one hand for his friend. Your guy friend rested back in the chair nonchalantly, holding the menu in his hand on his lap, slinging his arm around the back of your chair. You didn’t even react, too busy looking over the menu, but the other two sure did.

"Order whatever you want, pretty girl." Changbin smirked when you glanced over your own menu at him, his resting on the table. You couldn’t help but marvel at his arms where they rested over the menu. His black hair was parted asymmetrically, his bangs brushing over his eyebrows. He was very handsome, in a more masculine way than Jaemin, who was more pretty.

"Are you sure?" you asked, Felix’s words flashing in your mind; you wanted to make sure.

"Of course." He smiled, looking back and you nodded, ignoring the numbers listed by each meal.

"Hello, I’ll be taking your order today." The waitress had come over and bowed slightly, ready to get your drinks. You simply ordered a water, not feeling like alcohol. Yuna did order a glass of wine, one that Jaemin picked out. He knew jack about wine, but he acted like he knew his stuff, he didn’t even drink. His order was simply for a Coke and Changbin ordered some kind of soda-liquor mix.

"Is this on two tickets or…" The waitress started.

"Two, me and her." Changbin nodded at you and before the waitress could start writing, Jaemin piped up.

"One, actually." You turned your head to look at him in shock and Yuna smiled coyly, resting his chin on her interlinked fingers. She hummed and Jaemin hadn’t even looked up from his menu but to meet your glance.

"I suggested the place, might as well. Tell Chef Moon Jaemin is ordering, so he better cook it really~ good." He smiled at the waitress, and she flushed a bit at the smolder, but nodded and headed off. His arm was still on the back of your chair, and you glanced at Yuna who bit her lip as she looked over the man next to you.

"What are you thinking of getting?" you asked your date and he hummed, flipping to the other side of the menu.

"The cream pasta looks good, but I don’t know if I would want chicken or shrimp." Changbin hummed, then looked up at you with a smile, "what about you, (Y/N)?" The way he said your name made your heart thump, was he normally so sweet or was he playing it up?

"She wants the lobster." Jaemin didn’t even look up from his menu and you glared at him. He wasn’t wrong…you loved it even if you didn’t get to eat it very often.

"It’s not even on the menu today." You tried not to snap at him.

"I think I’ll get the cream pasta with shrimp." You decided.

"Perfect." Changbin smiled and when the waitress came back with your drinks, your date ordered for both of you.

"Give me the steak." After Jaemin ordered, he took his menu and yours to hand them to the waitress. Yuna hummed, giving you a look, and ended up getting some kind of fish. When your guy friend ordered you grimaced. He knew you didn’t like beef, even just the smell bothered you. Though, if he was paying, especially with the prices being so high, you wouldn’t say anything.

"I know we don’t know each other super well yet, but you’re too good for Wooyoung." Changbin started and you gave him a shocked look. Yuna looked surprised at the comment as well and Jaemin huffed in what seemed like agreement.

"W-what do you mean?" you asked.

"This is the kind of place to go to. A beautiful restaurant for a beautiful girl. Let me guess, your first date was at an amusement park?"

"W-well…yes. We were first years in college though…"

"Still, you’re a lady not a middle schooler." He shook his head and you flushed some at the comments. You didn’t see yourself as a lady, but it made you feel special.

"Lady, huh?" The guy next to you kind of scoffed and you rolled your eyes. What was his deal?

"She’s more of a lady than this one that’s for sure." Changbin jutted his thumb at Yuna who sent him a scalding look.

"Fuck you, Bin."

"I would rather you didn’t." He smirked, turning the look to you. Letting out a small chuckle, your cheeks felt even warmer, the ice water a nice contrast as you took a sip. Focusing on the older man, you two passed likes and dislikes back and forth, just getting to know each other. You weren’t sure what the other two were discussing, but you could feel the tension leave Jaemin slowly. Yuna was batting her eyelashes every once in a while, and you had a feeling her heeled foot was brushing over his shin, if not higher. You tried not to think about it, going back to your date. When the food finally came, you smiled at how good the food looked and smelled. Luckily, your food more or less blocked the scent of Jaemin’s steak. As you twisted the pasta around on your fork against your spoon, as you went to bring it to your mouth, you noticed Changbin hold his own up.

"Cheers?" He smiled and you giggled, bumping your pasta swirl against his, then eating it. It really was so good, and you could tell it was definitely Taeyong’s.

"I was surprised I couldn’t hear you from the kitchen." A familiar voice chuckled, coming up to the table."

"Hi, Taeyong-oppa." You smiled at his comment to Jaemin.

"Hyung~" He cooed and you both huffed.

"I didn’t know you were going to be here too, (Y/N)." He glanced at the other two, "You’re Yuna, right?"

"Sure am." She seemed to be in a flirty mood, her tone was still lilted.

"You are…" He pointed to the other guy.

"Seo Changbin." He nodded respectfully.

"Double date?" Taeyong’s gaze moved to you, and you nodded. He simply hummed before his gaze met Jaemin’s.

"Enjoy the food, I’ll make sure you get a discount." He bowed and then left and Yuna watched him leave.

"Oof."

"Really?" You deadpanned; she was literally on a date with Jaemin.

"I need to go to the bathroom, come on (Y/N)." She got up, grabbing her bag and you did the same to follow her. You really didn’t understand why girls always went to the bathroom together, but you would literally just follow along. When you got in there, another woman was just leaving, but otherwise it was empty. Yuna went to look in the mirror, pulling her make up bag out to touch up her eye makeup. You rested your back against the counter, it seemed neither of you actually had to go.

"Sorry that Jaemin is being weird." You grimaced a bit, your mouth going straight.

"Well, it’s obvious he is here for you so…" She didn’t seem bothered at all.

"W-what?"

"Oh, please, girl. It’s obvious he’s jealous and just came so you he could keep an eye on Changbin. I’m more here to help you not be too uncomfortable, it’s just a bonus I get to flirt with Na Jaemin." She started to put on more lipstick, but realized she still had to finish eating, so that wouldn’t make sense.

"Y-you think?" You turned to look at her and she scoffed playfully.

"Here, I’ll play it up and see what he does." She got everything back into her bag and you both went back to the table. You had no idea what those two had been doing or talking about, but the tension was thick. After you sat down, the mood lightened, and a smile came back to Changbin’s face.

"Here, have more of the shrimps." He picked a few off of his plate to give to you before you could protest. Shooting Yuna a look, she winked, and stabbed a piece of fish with her fork, holding it up to Jaemin. She hummed and you made sure not to watch, so you missed his side look at you. The small talk continued with your date, and it seemed as Yuna notched up her flirting, so did Jaemin. You two weren’t so forward, keeping it more innocent.

"Oh, here." You noticed he had some sauce on his cheek, too far away for his tongue to reach. You grabbed your napkin and dipped it in your water so you could get it off. He smiled and the warm look made your face heat, and you sat back all the way down. You yelped when Jaemin curled his ankle around the leg of your chair and hauled you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear.

"The hell are you doing?" His tone was sharper than you had ever heard from him.

"What do you mean?" Your tone hardened as well. He simple glared down at you and you scoffed, aggressively yanking your chair back to where it was, resting your chin on your palm, closing yourself off from him.

"Sorry, he’s being a dick." you whispered to Changbin, but he didn’t laugh, just sent a look at the other man.

"What’s your deal?" He shot at Jaemin whose face immediately lost its flirty grin. He could be really freaking scary when he wanted….same thing with Chenle.

"I just have a problem with people who don’t know their place." He rose an eyebrow and you swallowed hard. You really wanted the chocolate lava cake on the dessert menu, but you were getting fed up. He offered to pay for everyone, so you stood and aggressively slung your bag on your shoulder.

"Let’s go Yuna. He can get home on his own." She immediately followed you and you stopped, looking at Changbin.

"I had fun with you, I’m sorry he’s being such a douche. I’ll get your number from Yuna." You smiled, giving him a slight bow and he nodded, watching in shock as you both left.

"(Y/N)!" Jaemin shouted after you and you just picked up the pace. Yuna’s heels clicked on the tile of the restaurant floor and then on the concrete as you left. Tears were pricking at your eyes, the warm drops cold in the blowing wind.

"Hey, you okay?" She stopped you, noticing your face starting to get blotchy.

"He’s a fucking jerk." You sniffed and she sighed.

"Hey, I’m not mad, I wasn’t expecting the world from the date-"

"Not that, how he was with Changbin. If what you said it true…" You licked your lips, and she wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

"The reason it hurts so much is because you like him. It’s hard to see someone act like a dick when you think highly of them." She informed wisely as you both waited for the valet to get your car. You wished you parked down the road so at least you could get away faster. Waiting outside meant there was the possibility of Jaemin getting to you before you could leave. Speak…well, think of the devil, and he shall come.

"(Y/N)!" He had pushed the door open so hard; the thick plexiglass wobbled a bit in the metal frame. You groaned and told Yuna to take your car back and began to storm down the sidewalk toward your building.

"Fucking- (Y/N), wait!" He dashed past your friend, and she knew your shorter legs wouldn’t get you far if he was going that speed. As he caught up to you, you almost took off your shoes so you could start running. You tried to not wipe at your eyes, your mascara was waterproof, but your eyeliner would probably smudge.

"(Y/N)!" Jaemin finally reached you, his hand wrapping around your wrist, and he halted you in your tracks. Why was he so freaking strong? When you tried to get away, he pulled you even closer, holding both hands to his chest.

"Let go!" You were full on crying, and he was a bit shocked at this. He did as you asked and you were going to turn around and keep going, but a car, your car, pulled up next to you. Yuna got out, handed you your keys and you went to get in. Before either of you could say anything, Jaemin grabbed the keys himself and went to the driver’s side. You scoffed as he shut the door but got in the other side.

"Can you get home?" you asked her, and she nodded, waving you off.

"Changbin will get me home." You nodded and got into your car; it was a bit weird riding in the passenger seat. The ride back was silent, tension rising in the car fast, and you tried rolling the window down. Didn’t help, just made more noise. You rolled it back up, the seal making a ‘shunk’ as it closed. You licked your lips, just watching out the window. No words were said as he parked in your spot in the garage. You wanted to fester a bit in the car, but he pulled your door open and stared you down, prompting you to get out. You slammed the door shut and stomped forward past him to get into your building. You keyed in your code to the side door and didn’t even hold the door open for him. You could hear him following you though and he did all the way up to your apartment. Your door slammed shut and you both stood in the entryway, panting. Sighing, you toed the straps of your shoe and kicked them off, storming further into your place. It seemed he had done the same and was hot on your heels. As you left the entry hall and started to head into the living room, Jaemin grabbed your wrist, and you yelped as he yanked you. You found your back to the wall, halted just right so your head didn’t bang into it. His hand slammed against the wall, pinning you in, the other one still holding your wrist. You gaped at him with wide eyes, your hand held up and against the wall as well. He was PISSED. He didn’t get mad like that too often.

"What the hell is your problem?" You tried to psych yourself up, feeling incredibly small. Not only did his harsh gaze make you shrink in on yourself, but he was also bigger than you really realized. Taller and broader, he fully surrounded you. He scoffed, looking away and you sneered. He finally turned back to look at you.

"Are you really that dumb?" His tone pierced you and tears came back, frustrated and hurt.

"What?" Your voice was quiet, you face had fallen flat. Jaemin licked his lips again, biting his bottom lip before pressing both together hard. His eyes met yours and your breath hitched.

"You seriously, of all people, asked me to go on a double date with you, but you were there for someone else?" His face was close to yours; he was so close in general that you had to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

"Then, you showed up looking like that, but it wasn’t for me." He motioned with his head down, and you shuffled. Jaemin’s leg had shifted closer, his knee touching the wall.

"You even went so far as to flirt with another man in front of me." His words made you look back up to him from where you had been looking at his leg between yours.

"What’s it to you!?" You countered, trying not to move too much, he was so close, "why do you care?"

"I care because I love you, and you’re supposed to be mine!" He finally got it out. All of the fight left you and you simply gaped at him like a fish. Jaemin swallowed, not sure how to take your reaction.

"You love me?"

"Yes!" The hand pinning yours up pulled away, so your arm came down to rest limply at your side. Jaemin then rested it on your elbow, the hand on the wall shifting so his forearm was pressed against the surface. His forehead met his arm, the side of his jaw pressing against the top of your head. Your eyes couldn’t help but fall to the swath of skin revealed by his open shirt, it was right in front of you after all.

"I really wish I could have done this differently." His voice was quiet, the sharpness gone, and he spoke right into your ear. The sound seemed to rumble through you, and you didn’t know his voice could get that deep.

"Love?" You finally managed to get out and he huffed, pulling back enough that you could see each other’s faces. Jaemin brought his hand to his tie, and despite it being loose already, he loosened it further and just took it off. The fabric floated to the floor, and he took another step back so he could take off the blazer without hitting you. As he shed the garment, he continued to move away, throwing the jacket down. He turned away from you and you slumped further against the wall, watching as he rolled his sleeves up, so they bunched above his elbow. You couldn’t help but stare at his revealed forearms, a watch gracing his left wrist. On his right hand sat the ring he and all your friends shared. You had one even, but you kept in your jewelry box and only wore it when you were all together. The more you looked at Jaemin, like really looked, he had gotten way more muscular than you even realized. He caught you staring and in any other circumstance he would have smirked, but he just huffed, nearly scoffed.

"My eyes are up here, (Y/N)." He clicked his tongue and he started to walk back toward you. He had put his left hand in his pocket, the right held up with one finger out, and he poked you hard on the forehead. You flinched and yelped when your head hit the wall. Jaemin sighed, letting his arm fall and putting his other hand in his pocket as well.

"You really had no idea?" The question was unexpected, and you honestly had trouble thinking about what he meant, still out of it.

"No idea about what?" You shook your head, trying to get your bearings and he sighed dramatically, a slight whine in the sound.

"Me loving you, dummy." You blinked in response.

"N-no?"

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What about you?"

"About me, what?" He groaned in frustration and sighed really hard again.

"Do you like me back at least?" He finally decided to be direct. You simply blinked and he shook his head a bit.

"I’m going home-" He backed up and moved to leave, but you stopped him, gently wrapping your hands around his elbow.

"Wait." Your voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear, but he halted immediately. His back was to you, so you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around his middle, laying your cheek on his back.

"I…I think I love you too." You truly didn’t know for sure, never really feeling that way. You were still in denial about having feelings for him at all only an hour ago.

"You think?"

"I really don’t know…I’ve never felt this way before-" Jaemin pulled away from you roughly, but then turned to you, his hands on your jaw. When you opened your mouth to continue, his lips met yours instead, swallowing the start of your next words. Honestly? Best kiss you ever had. You didn’t know if it was because Jaemin and you liked him so much, or if he was just good at it. With a whine, you brought your own hands to his, lightly gripping his wrists. Jaemin pulled back, his expression still intense but in a much different way.

"Tell me now if you don’t want to go beyond kissing, because I need to know before…" He drifted off, his eyes still pinned to your lips.

"Y-you can do what you want." Your words were shaky, along with your body, but it was more nervous excitement than anything.

"Yeah?" You hummed in response and that same cocky grin you were so used to spread over his stupidly attractive face.

"Don’t tell me that, love, I’ll hold you to it." He had leaned in as he spoke, his lips softly brushing over yours.

"Please." You nearly keened and he kissed you again. It was rougher than the last one, deeper, his hand wrapping around your ponytail and digging into your hair. He tilted your head to get a better angle. His other hand started at your waist before sliding down the sleek material of your dress till it landed on your butt. He squeezed and you gasped, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. Your head was swimming, and you weren’t sure if it was from lack of air or just how good it felt to have his tongue tasting yours. When Jaemin finally pulled back, you whined at the loss which made him chuckle.

"Come here, love." His arm wrapped around your waist, the other going to the back of your thigh, picking you up with ease. You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist and you kissed over his neck and collarbone as he headed down the hall to your room. Luckily Jisung was at Chenle’s, and little did you know, it was because Jaemin had told him, "if this night goes according to plan, you will not want to be at home." And while the plan hadn’t gone exactly as Jaemin planned, the end result was the same. Your door was closed but not set in the frame, so he was able to kick it to get it open. It swung hard and slammed into the wall, luckily there was door stop, and he kicked it closed as well. When he got close enough, he literally dropped you on the bed. You bounced with a yelp, and you stopped as you tried to steady yourself, your eyes drawn to him. With rapt attention, you watched as he deftly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and untucked it, throwing it harshly to the floor. As he continued, the smirk on his face grew more and more devious, his confidence growing a little too much from your stare.

"Wanna touch?" He teased as your eyes traced every line and ridge of his torso. Without thinking, you nodded, and he laughed. The noise snapped you out of the trance, and you frowned.

"Jerk…" You mumbled and he chuckled, stepping forward slowly, prowling. His right hand gripped his belt and the waist of his pants, and when he was close enough, his hand went to your chin to tip your head. Jaemin crooked his eyebrow, and you wilted a bit under the look, more nervous excitement buzzing through you. When he stepped back, your eyes went to the hand on his belt and watched as he undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops with a snap and it clattered to the floor. Your mouth watered, and he tried not to laugh, "Your eyes are gonna burn holes through me." You flinched back, purposefully looking back to his face.

"Look all you want, love." he said, the smirk coming back. So, you did. Your eyes zeroed in on his hands, he first removed his watch, letting it clatter onto the floor as well. Same thing with his ring, he didn’t want the others having any part of this, even if it was through the friendship ring. Next, and you weren’t sure if he actually did it slowly or it played in slow-motion through your eyes, but he undid the button on his slacks, and they fell. You gasped, he did still have his underwear on, but he was just that much closer to being bare before you.

"You have too many things on." He decided and strode forward, falling to his knees at the foot of the bed where you sat. His hands went to your hips and pulled you all the way forward so hard and fast, you fell, back hitting the bed.

"Are these those tights that don’t tear?" His question threw you off a bit.

"Uh, no they were like a few dollars-" RIP. He just tore them right at the seam of the crotch.

"Jaemin!" You scolded by he ignored you; finishing ripping them and then pulled the pieces off. He could have just pulled them off normally… When the scraps were discarded, he flipped the end of your dress up, exposing your black panties and your face flushed as he just stared.

"D-don’t stare like that!" You covered your face with your hands then practically screamed when he unexpectedly buried his face between your legs.

"J-Jaemin!" You yelped, his tongue brushing harshly over the fabric, tasting your wetness though the material.

"Fuck~" He cooed at your taste, and you were extremely grateful he didn’t tear your panties off as well. What you didn’t notice though was that he pocketed them as his mouth met your bare cunt. Your back arched, breath leaving you, his tongue delving into your core. Jaemin let out an obscene groan as your walls clenched around his tongue and you whimpered. Why was he being so freaking noisy? Again, a startled yelp escaped you when his hands grabbed your thighs, roughly holding your legs open, preventing your hips from moving. It seemed he planned ahead because when he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, your entire body jerked, the air leaving you.

"Jaemin! Wait, fuck-" You sucked air in harshly, the rising pleasure so intense and before you knew it, with one last flick of his tongue, you fell of the edge. He moaned as you whined, his voice fading into a low chuckle as your orgasm ebbed. Falling boneless onto the bedding, he got up from the floor and cooed at you.

"Oh, sweet love~" His normal playful tone was weaved with heat, his words seemed to rumble through the room. Gently, he helped you sit up, kissing softly at your neck and jaw as he pulled the zipper of your dress down. You let him pull the garment up and off your head, your glazed over expression going straight to his hardening cock.

"So pretty~" Jaemin huffed in delight, leaning over to kiss you again as he unhooked your bra and slung it somewhere to the side. With a mewl, you let him pick you up again to move your further up the bed, laying you down softly and making sure your head was settled on the pillow. His next kisses were incredibly soft, going from your mouth to the crest of your cheek, your jaw, neck, collar, sternum, the swell of your breast, then his mouth sealed over your nipple. It made you shiver, but he quickly moved on, kissing to the other side, and licked over your other nipple.

"Jaemin~" You whined, needing more. He smiled, not a smirk, going back up and kissing your forehead. The man laughed when your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, trying to get him closer to kiss him again. Instead, he let you kiss over his face, his hands going to your hips and adjusting you so your legs wrapped around his waist. When he grinded his still covered hard-on into your bare core you let out a low whine.

"I need you to let me go so I can get a condom…" He laughed when you shook your head no, holding on tighter.

"Okay." He relented, wrapping his arms around you again and you yiped when he easily hauled you up and got of the bed. Holding onto him like a child, he laughed at your antics as he stooped to get his pants and get his wallet.

"You always keep one there?" You grumbled and Jaemin continued to laugh, going back to the bed.

"No, love. I planned ahead~" He let out his characteristic little-shit giggle as he laid you down again, just as softly.

"Hurry!" You wiggled, letting your legs fall so he could maneuver and get his tight black briefs off. Your jaw went slack and the smuggest simper you had ever seen on his face. No wonder he was so freaking confident all the time.

"I’ll fit." He teased and you wanted to get annoyed but was too distracted as he rolled the condom over his cock. You swallowed.

"You’re sure you’re okay with this?" His hand gently went to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin. You turned your head, kissing his palm, and the soft gesture made his smile soften as well.

"Okay, love." Jaemin shifted, lightly gripping your hips and you buried your fingers in his soft silver hair as he brought his cock to your core, stroking it through your folds before starting to ease in. You gasped, trying not to clench too hard. It had not only been a while for you, but he was bigger than you were used to. Your whole body shivered, and you tried to relax and not clench him too much. You watched his brow furrow; you were tight around him and he couldn’t believe he finally got to be inside of you.

"Breathe, love." He smirked, helping you relax as he bottomed out. The walls of your cunt fluttered around his cock, trying to get used to the stretch and you tried to not dig your press-on nails into the skin of his back. He would change that though, planning on having red welts decorating his back when he got done. When he felt you relax more around him, and your body wasn’t as tense, he brought your legs up higher around your waist and gave a very shallow thrust.

"Fuck!" You moaned and Jaemin groaned, starting a slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm you yet.

"J-Jaemin!" You threw your head back after he gave his first hard thrust, nearly pulling all the way out before his hips snapped, carving his shape into your core.

"Oh, love, you feel so fucking good~" He let out a breathy chuckle, sitting back on his heels more, the angle change let the head of his cock hit your sweet spot. With each thrust, he fucked a little noise out of you, every once in a while, it would be his name or nonsense babbling.

"Hold on, love." He grunted, getting up on his knees more, his strong hands gripping your thighs so hard he would leave bruises, and threw your legs over his elbows. Jaemin smirked, rolling his hips and as the head of his cock hit the deepest part of your pussy, you came. It was sudden and your breath halted, and he froze, eyes clenching shut. He wanted this to last longer, and while he knew he could go more than one round, he really wanted to prolong it. You shivered slightly when it was over trying to catch your breath and he groaned, shifting on his knees, and grabbing another pillow to shove under your hips.

"Okay, get ready~" He practically giggled, and he began to fuck you in earnest. Your cunt was sensitive from cumming twice, but it still felt too good, and your mind was starting to fog. Your hands that were digging into the bedding scrabbled, gripping his back, not wanting to tear your sheets. He groaned as the rounded ends of your press-on nail dug into his skin, scratching down and leaving stinging lines all over his back. Jaemin chuckled deeply as you whimpered and moaned.

"You’re so good for me, huh?" You whined in response.

"Like my cock?" Whine.

"Fuck, I love you so much." He slumped forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, sucking, and licking at the skin. His thrusts stayed hard, but they lost their rhythm as he got closer to his own release. Your hands moved to around his shoulders, one still scratching up his back, the other in his hair.

"Love~" You mewled, and he huffed, burying his cock as deep as he could and came. Someday, he vowed to feel the raw heat of your pussy around him. Slowly he pulled out and you whimpered, feeling incredibly empty. He realized then that he had only brought one condom…

"Great." He grumbled, but when he saw you laying there, eyes unfocused and body limp, he realized that might be for the best. Smiling softly, he leaned down, brushing the sweat-soaked hairs from your forehead and laying a kiss there.

"Be right back, love." Jaemin pecked your lips and got off the bed. You were only semi-conscious as he went and cleaned up. He came back quick, helping you get under the covers, and he turned the ceiling fan on, so you didn’t get too hot. Somehow, you managed to stay awake as he took a cold shower and you mewled for him when he came back.

"(Y/N)~" He cooed dramatically, back to his goofy self. He had put pants back on but left his shirt off, knowing you would ogle him. Giddily, while giggling, he wiggled under the covers with you.

"You’re cold…" You mumbled and he nodded with a hum.

"Warm me~!" He opened his arms to you, and you tiredly shuffled closer and slumped into his hold. You were too tied to really appreciate laying on his half-naked body, and he soothingly pet your hair, nuzzling the top of your head.

"I love you." Jaemin whispered and you mumbled something, and he huffed, "what?"

"Love you too~" Your voice was slurred with sleepiness, and you nearly instantly fell asleep. He soon drifted off as well, but about an hour later, he was awoken by a commotion.

"Noona~!"

"Chenle, wait!" Jisung shouted after him but couldn’t get to him in time as he dashed down the hall and threw your bedroom door open. When all he saw was Jaemin propped up, glaring at him with a lump next to him, the younger stopped dead.

"Get out of there!" The youngest scolded, purposefully NOT looking as he grabbed the other one and hauled him out.

"THEY FUCKED!" Chenle nearly screamed and Jaemin collapsed to the bed with a groan and Jisung dragged him down the hall, trying to get him to shut up. You grunted a bit and Jaemin smiled, you were so cute. Your eyes fluttered open and he smiled warmly.

"He’s so freaking loud." You pouted and he dramatically acted like he had been shot in the heart.

"Oh~ So cute~" He enveloped you into his arms, holding you close and rocking back and forth. It forced a tired giggle from you, and you went limp again when he finally laid still.

"You’ll be my girlfriend." It was more like a statement than a question. You hummed.

"Of course." You ran your fingers over his collarbone, finally getting to feel and see him. Another cocky grin spread over his face as you didn’t hold back, your hands stopping on the waist band of his pants. He smirked, rolling on top of you, making sure you didn’t hold his full weight.

"For now~" You furrowed your brow, wondering what he meant. One day, my wife.

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[bellaxgiornata]

How Far Does it Go; When Does it End?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x depressed!fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/tags: 18+; depiction of depression, suicidal ideation if you squint, confession of feelings, and angst with a hopeful ending [please don't read if any of this could be triggering]

Summary: It's been weeks that you've just been going through the motions day by day. But when you decline yet another invitation to Josie’s with your friends, a worried Matt takes it upon himself to check up on you.

a/n: This one is a little bit depressing because I've been going through some things and have been craving angst, but I promise the ending is hopeful. As mentioned in the tags, please don't read if you believe it might be triggering. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @1988-fiend @geminadeckerwritesstuff @flowher @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @writtenbyred @moncherriis @a-half-empty-g1rl @beezusvreeland @da3m0nsneverstop

Unsure how long you'd been sitting there entranced by the snow steadily accumulating along the tops of the parked cars lining the street below, you stared at the flurry of snowflakes blowing outside of the window. Tonight Hell's Kitchen was set afire by the orange glow of its street lights, the haunting warmth of them reflecting off of the snow banks. A few cars were carefully making their way through the mess of slush and ice along the road, otherwise it seemed bleak and lifeless in the city this evening.

Personally you’d always hated how little sunlight there was during the winter months. On weekdays you rose in the mornings to get ready for work before the sun had even risen. By the time you'd even managed to leave the office after work, the sun had already set. For you, most days this time of year passed by with you barely seeing more than a sliver of sunlight–because your small cubicle certainly didn't have any windows. And it wasn't likely that you would ever find yourself working anywhere with an actual view.

Resting your forehead against the chilled glass of your living room window, you released a nearly inaudible sigh as you stared out into the blackness of the night. You probably should have been doing a number of other things right now–cleaning up the dishes that had piled in your sink, taking your growing load of laundry to the laundromat a block over, or even compiling a grocery list to stock your empty fridge. But instead you just sat there leaning over the armrest of your couch, losing count of how many taxis you'd seen skid across the icy road while imagining what it might feel like if one of them just lost control and careened straight into you on the crosswalk below. 

You were so far tucked into your mind that when a dark shape dropped down onto your fire escape mere inches from your face, you had barely even reacted. Instead your eyes slowly rose up, your gaze gradually trailing its way up along the black-clad figure. Though you didn't need to see the mask covering the man's face to know who'd just landed on your fire escape. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen–or rather, one of your best friends and the subject of your unrequited affections, Matthew Murdock.

“Do you mind?” Matt's muffled voice came from outside, a hand gesturing to the window. “It's kind of cold out here.”

Pushing yourself away from the glass, you rose from the couch and stepped over to the window, reaching up and unlatching the locks. You began to slide the window up as high as it could go before stepping aside to let Matt in. A frigid gust of air and a flutter of snowflakes followed behind him as he slipped through the opening.

Sinking back into the same spot on your couch without a word, you watched as Matt turned and shut the window after himself. A dusting of snow sat along his muscular shoulders, the white a sharp contrast to all of his black. For a moment all you could do was stare at the little flecks of white, watching as they slowly began to disappear, melting into the darkness.

The sound of Matt clearing his throat broke through your daze, pulling you back to reality. He looked good standing in your living room wearing his makeshift vigilante costume. Honestly a part of you hated whenever he stopped by your apartment dressed like this solely for that reason. Because it physically pained you to look at him, especially as you watched him reach a gloved hand up to remove the mask from off of his head, the cloth giving way to reveal his face. 

He was still the most beautiful thing in your life.

“Hey,” Matt greeted, sounding slightly winded. He tossed his mask onto your coffee table, running a hand through his mussed hair as he strode towards the couch to take a seat beside you. “We missed you at Josie’s tonight.”

You fought down the doubtful scoff at his comment. It seemed highly unlikely that Matt, Karen, and Foggy had truly missed your melancholic presence at the bar tonight. The three of them could often hold full conversations before they even remembered you were silently sitting at the table with them. Which was partly why you hadn't felt like meeting them again tonight for drinks, because you were tired of feeling like the often forgotten fourth wheel of the group. 

You shrugged weakly. “Wasn't in the mood for Josie’s,” you simply said.

“Seems you haven't been in the mood for Josie’s for awhile,” Matt gently pointed out. “It's been weeks since you last joined us there.”

“Oh,” you replied.

Truthfully you didn't know exactly how long it had been since you'd last met them all there for drinks after work. The days had all blurred together lately. Maybe that explained why Matt had been so persistent on the phone when he'd called after work and continued to try and convince you to join them. But even he didn't succeed.

“Is everything alright with you?” Matt asked, his brows creasing together as his eyes fixed somewhere around your chin. “Because you seem…distant lately. Quieter than usual.”

“I'm always quiet,” you countered.

“Yes, well,” Matt said, shooting you one of his charming smiles meant to ease the tension in the room. “You seem like you're even more lost in thought than usual.”

You shrugged again before slumping back into the couch cushions. “Is that so wrong?”

The frown on Matt's mouth deepend further. “Depends,” he answered.

“On what?” you asked.

You noticed his brief hesitation, the slight pause as his head titled just a bit to the side. His eyes were scanning you now, traveling around the space you occupied beside him. 

You knew what he was doing. Reading you. Reading your body with his senses in a way that only he could. Usually that made you uncomfortable whenever you caught him doing it because you were uncertain what he might learn–like your feelings for him. So generally you called him out on it. But not tonight. Tonight you just…didn't have the energy for it.

“It depends on what you're thinking about,” Matt finally answered.

“Nothing really,” you told him. 

Matt's shoulders dropped at your response, the corners of his lips twitching downwards. You caught the way his eyes tightened in something akin to frustration. It was obvious what was coming next–the patented Matthew Murdock attempt to pry too hard for answers. Though fortunately for you he wouldn't be using his fists to get them. 

“Talk to me,” Matt ordered, shifting on the couch to face you more fully. “What's going on? Why are you shutting yourself off from everyone?”

You pulled a face at the accusation. “That’s not what I’m doing,” you argued. “Besides, isn’t that the kettle calling the pot black or something?” 

“You've been avoiding all of us for weeks,” Matt pointed out, ignoring your attempt to divert his attention. “Always making some excuse not to come out, or that you’re too tired for anyone to stop over. And you've been ignoring all of our calls.”

“I have not,” you disagreed. “I spoke to you on the phone earlier tonight.”

“Yeah,” Matt swiftly agreed with a nod. “But that was only because I called you about eight times before you finally answered.” 

His lips pursed tight together, looking as if he was internally conflicted for a second like there was more he wanted to say. You wondered why he’d even hesitated because in all the time you’d known Matt, he wasn’t usually the type to hold his tongue. 

“I've noticed you're always in your bed when I pass by at night,” he finally said. “Earlier than when you’d usually go to sleep. And I know you're not actually sleeping.”

Your chest tightened at the knowledge that Matt had been checking in on you in the evenings without you knowing. How much had he overheard while you’d been in your apartment? 

Eyes dropping down to your hands, you began to nervously pick at your fingernails. “I have a hard time falling asleep,” you mumbled.

“I can smell the tears,” Matt told you. “Even from outside your apartment. You can't hide them from me. For weeks now I've noticed you lying in bed just crying at night.” He paused, shaking his head and briefly wincing before he continued. “Something is going on and you're shutting us out. I'm not stupid. I know what you're doing. So just–just tell me what's going on. Please.”

You contemplated lying even though you knew he'd be able to tell. Then you contemplated making up something just to get him to stop asking questions. You even contemplated telling him off for eavesdropping before cursing him out for invading your privacy. But what surprised you was how you felt compelled to just tell him the truth. Because you were just too damn tired to do anything else.

“Why?” you asked weakly. “Why do you want to know?”

Matt’s entire face tightened, looking as if he was offended you'd even asked him that. Then seconds later his expression abruptly shifted to irritation and you braced yourself at the sight of it.

“Because I care about you!” he snapped, his frustration finally coming out. “We all do! And we're concerned about you! How do you not get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, shrinking in on yourself on the couch. Matt had never spoken to you like that before and it had taken you by surprise. Clenching your jaw tighter, you began to pick faster at your nails. Beside you Matt released a sigh, his head dropping down towards his chest as one of his gloved hands reached up, the heel of it rubbing at his temple.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just worried, okay? I didn’t mean to yell. I just want to help.”

“Sometimes you can’t.”

The words had slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them. Like a knee-jerk reaction. Out of your peripheral you saw Matt’s head raise up again, his eyes landing near you on the couch. You froze, your fingers halting their fidgeting.

“What?” he asked softly. 

“Sometimes you can’t,” you repeated. “Sometimes there's people you can’t help, Matt.”

His eyes narrowed back at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as you tried to swallow back the lump forming in your throat, you knew there was no turning back now. He’d only pry harder if you tried to push him away at this point. Being as stubborn as Matt was, you wouldn’t put it past him to sit on your couch until the sun came up waiting for you to tell him what he wanted. 

So with a heavy sigh, you finally gave in.

“Do you ever feel like you're just…making it?” you hesitantly asked Matt.

Finally tearing your eyes from your hands, you looked in his direction, though your gaze didn't quite land on him. Rather it hovered somewhere just over his shoulder as you stared at a patched over spot on the wall. Ever since you'd moved here you’d often wondered how it had gotten there. 

“How so?” he questioned.

“Like you're just getting by–day to day, week to week?” you explained. “As if your life isn't actually going anywhere? Like you're barely holding it together and you're just one little thing from it completely falling apart? And maybe you’ve finally just, I don’t know, become numb to the fear of that happening? Because who cares, really. What does it matter?” 

Matt shifted a bit closer to you on the couch, moving slow and careful like he didn’t want to startle you. “Is that how you’ve been feeling? Like things don’t matter?”

Your eyes slid over from the patched up space on the wall and finally landed back on Matt’s face. You recognized the look there instantly. Genuine concern was written in the way his eyes were pinched tight and fixed along your chest; the firm set of his lips as his head tilted marginally to the side proving how gravely invested he was in the conversation. It was the same way he looked whenever he was intensely focused on someone out in Hell's Kitchen in need of help. You’d seen it on his face in the past when he was here as the Devil, right before he’d jump out of your window to go find whoever it was that needed him. 

But right now he was using that look on you. The gravity of it had you sitting there with your lips parted feeling like you were on the verge of either fully opening up or completely closing yourself off to him. 

And then, somehow all at once, everything poured forth from you like a teetering cup finally spilling over.

“I mean I get up, brush my teeth, get ready for work, see all the neverending and overwhelming terrible shit on the news in the morning like that's normal while I drink down a massive coffee just to survive the day. Then I go to work, smile at all the right moments, make inane small talk while feeling utterly invisible busting my ass knowing that I'm never getting that damn promotion let alone a pay raise just so I can afford to actually live out here,” you continued, everything you'd been holding back just falling out of you in a rush of words. “Then I what? Go home and cook and eat and wash the dishes and go to bed? Except going to sleep is a chore. Trying to quiet my mind is exhausting. Facing the same demons in my sleep night after night is too much. And then,” you said, aware that Matt's face had fallen, his hands gently gripping your knees even though you hadn't felt when he'd actually grabbed them, “the morning comes.”

When you didn't elaborate further Matt's head curiously tilted to the side.

“Isn't that good?” he questioned. 

“Is it?” you asked in return. 

There was a long pause, a silence filled with so many unspoken words. As you sat there staring at Matt, you could see the thoughts racing in his mind. You kept quiet as you wondered which one would eventually win out. Because you knew Matt. You knew he'd have something to say. But for some reason that also scared you a little.

When he finally spoke he said your name, the sound of it different than usual as it rolled off of his tongue–somehow tender and delicate. It took you entirely off guard, something stirring within you at the way he'd spoken it. There was an emotion struggling to break past the dam that had been staving your feelings off for weeks now, but you chose to push it back down in the moment. With your own mind spiraling, you continued on.

“There’s like this–this emptiness,” you confessed. “It’s heavy but it feels like nothing at all. You know? And it just sits right here–” You laid a hand flat across your chest, noticing the tears building in Matt’s eyes as they followed the movement. “It’s like there’s a hole. Like a blackhole just sucking everything into it lately. Everything . And I can’t do anything about it. Do you know what I mean? It’s just there .” 

You paused, licking your lips as you felt the heaviness of that metaphorical blackhole in your chest weighing you down even now. It wasn’t until Matt’s hands gripped your knees tighter that you remembered he was still touching you.

“It’s just always there,” you said, slowly losing momentum. “And I’m just left wondering how far does that emptiness go? Does it ever end?”

A long, heavy silence filled the room when you’d finally quieted. Gaze dropping down to Matt’s gloved hands still gripping your knees, you suddenly found yourself feeling ridiculous for having spilled all of that to him. You’d never gotten that personal with Matt before, certainly not about your struggles with depression. And now here you’d just dumped it on him all at once.

“I'm sorry,” you blurted, shaking your head. “That was–”

“Stop,” he ordered.

Mouth still hanging open, you stared back at him dumbfounded. He was sitting there on the couch with tears brimming in his eyes, his lips quivering as if he was struggling not to start crying himself. You felt horrible for having unloaded on him like that, for making him feel like he currently felt.

“I’m sor–”

“ Stop ,” he repeated.

Matt's hands released your knees, sliding up the outside of your thighs so carefully before they made their way towards your back. Before you'd known what was even happening, he was pulling you straight into himself on the couch, drawing you right into his chest. You didn’t fight him, not even as his strong arms encircled your waist and held you tight. Your own arms remained at your side, your cheek pressed right up against Matt’s firm shoulder as you sat there uncertain how to react. 

“I didn’t know,” Matt whispered. 

You frowned, shaking your head against his shoulder. “It wasn’t on you to know, Matt,” you replied. “I didn’t want anyone to know. That was the point.”

“Yes, but I’d heard you crying for weeks now–”

“Probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping then,” you muttered.

“–and I didn’t piece anything together,” he continued. “I figured maybe you were going through a breakup or something. From one of those dating app things you use. I didn’t know it was something much more serious.”

“I’m fine ,” you assured him. 

“No, you’re not,” he countered, his arms holding you even tighter to the front of himself as if that alone could keep you from falling apart. “You’re not, not if you feel like that. And maybe–maybe you should talk to someone,” he suggested carefully. “Because you know it's okay if you need to. There's nothing wrong with seeking help.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like a therapist?”

“If that's what would help, yes,” he answered. “But you know you're not alone, right? I'm always here. Always . So are Karen and Fog. You can talk to us, too.”

Turning your head, you attempted to hide your face against his shoulder. With your nose pressed against his spandex shirt, you could easily smell his sweat from his evening running around the city. The scent of it surrounding you felt both oddly comforting and strangely intimate. 

“I don't want to put this on any of you,” you mumbled into his shirt. 

“You know,” Matt began slowly, resting his chin lightly atop your head, “it's okay to let other people in. You don't have to keep everyone at a distance like you usually do. Some of us want to get closer to you.”

“Not to this part of me,” you whispered. “Not to this…dark part of me.”

“I let you into mine,” Matt quietly pointed out. “You might have accidentally discovered I was the Man in Black, but the rest of it? The heightened senses? The night I started going out like this? My childhood?” He shifted above you, turning his face so he could bury it against the top of your head. “I showed you the darker parts of me. I let you in.”

You knew he was right the moment he'd said it. Matt had told you so much about himself after you'd accidentally uncovered his big secret. He'd revealed so much about his dad's passing and the pain of his mentor, Stick, disappearing on him. He'd told you about his struggles hearing the people of Hell’s Kitchen in need of help and how he just couldn't ignore it any longer. He'd even told you about his ex, Elektra, and how she'd abandoned him like so many others in his life. But you'd never understood why he had.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “You did. Though I've never understood why you let me in like you did. Because you definitely don't let others in, either, Matt. Foggy doesn't even know most of what you've told me.”

Above you Matt shifted, turning to rest his cheek against the top of your head. You sat in his embrace with your arms awkwardly at your side, that strange feeling he'd stirred awake in you just minutes ago steadily demanding to be felt.

“I thought it would have been obvious,” Matt began. “Because I'm always stopping by to see you here when I'm out. Always calling and inviting you out to Josie’s because I want you there. Letting you see all of me when I don't show anyone else.”

Your face scrunched up at his words, uncertain if he was getting at what you thought he might be getting at. Bottom lip rolling between your teeth, you began to nervously gnaw at it as you felt one of his hands begin to absently rub a soothing circle on your back.

“I care about you,” he confessed. “As more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You nearly stopped breathing at his surprising admission, your body going still in his arms. This was not how you saw the evening going when he appeared on your fire escape. 

“I always just figured the whole Man in Black thing was too much for you,” he continued. “So I never said anything. But I always thought you knew that's how I felt.”

“I–I didn't,” you whispered, still stunned.

Matt cleared his throat, his hand stopping its absent movement on your back. You missed the comfort of it immediately. 

“I'm sorry, this isn't the time or place for this conversation,” Matt apologized. “I just…always thought you knew.”

Your own arms hesitantly found their way around Matt’s waist, finally hugging him in return. Somehow you felt his hold on you tighten further in response, a small smile slipping onto your face.

“You're right, it's not the time,” you agreed. “But for the record, I've always cared about you as more than a friend, too. I just figured you didn't feel the same or were just too busy to, you know, want something more.”

Another silence fell between the pair of you as you sat there curled around each other on your couch. Your eyes closed when his hands once more began their comforting movements along your back, your own hands fisting around the material of his shirt. For the first time in a long time you didn't feel so alone. For once you felt seen. 

“You know something,” you whispered, breaking the stillness of your apartment.  

“What?” Matt whispered against your hair.

“I get it,” you told him. Shifting in his arms, you unburied your face from its place against him, once more resting your cheek against his shoulder instead as you spoke. “I get why you do it. Why you go out at night like this,” you told him. “Because of the pain raging inside of you–the same thing I feel sometimes. And because of how it feels like the world is sometimes falling apart around us. Because it's hard to just sit back and feel like there's nothing you can do, nothing you can change.” 

You paused, your own arms holding onto him a little tighter. Matt had gone still though, as if he was intensely focused on everything you were saying.

“If I could go out and save a life, or stop a mugging, or save a child from their parents’ abuse, or rescue a young woman from an assault, I would.” A tear slipped out of your eye as you paused to exhale a shuddering breath. “And if I could hear so many others in pain, I would be going out and doing something about it, too. So I get it, Matt. Why you do what you do. And I honestly don't think that's dark at all despite how you often talk about it.”

“No?” he whispered.

“No,” you replied. “I think it's admirable. I've always thought that.”

At first Matt didn't respond, and as the silence grew around the pair of you, you wondered if you'd finally said too much tonight. Gone too far. But then you felt something gently fall into your hair, and then another and another. It took a moment before you realized they were droplets of tears.  

Crying. Matt was crying. 

“I'm sorry,” you apologized automatically, your arms attempting to unwrap from around him as you tried to pull away. “I'm so sor–”

“I said stop,” he croaked out, his arms still encircled around you, keeping you in place against his chest. “Stop apologizing.”

“I–I don't–” you stammered in confusion. “I didn't mean to upset you, Matt.”

“I'm not upset,” he explained, removing his face from where it had been pressed to the top of your head. “It's just hearing that from you,” he began slowly, “it…means more than you know. Because I–I have always thought there was something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Matt,” you immediately assured him.

“Well there's nothing wrong with you, either,” he told you. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes instantly. The dam that had felt like it was holding back all of your feelings lately–the dam that had been keeping you numb–suddenly felt as if it had finally broken as the first few tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Like I said, I know this isn't exactly the time for this conversation, but I just wanted you to know that you matter to someone,” Matt confessed. “Because you matter to me.”

Hands gripping firmly onto Matt as if he was grounding you as all your emotions came surging forth, your tears continuing to fall, you whispered back, “You matter to me, too.”

You felt Matt's mouth lightly press a kiss to the top of your head. As his lips lingered, an unexplainable weightlessness filled you. 

“And while I don't have an answer for how you're feeling,” he said softly, “I want you to know that I'm here. Whenever you need me. However you need me. Okay? Because you're not alone. You're never alone.”

Eyes slowly closing as you began to finally relax in his embrace, you felt the tears spill in steady streams down your cheeks. Maybe not everything was quite as bleak as your mind had led you to believe lately. Maybe there was still some good in the world to be grateful for. And maybe you did need to finally reach out and get some help. 

But for now, you just liked the idea of not crying alone in your bed again. 

“Is it too much to ask you to stay with me for a bit?” you asked hopefully. “I wouldn't mind having some company tonight.”

Matt placed another soft kiss into your hair.  “I'll stay as long as you want, sweetheart,” he promised.