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loonylupinblack3 · 7 months ago

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Period Trouble

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?

Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it

You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.

You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body.

There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.

You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”

You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”

Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.

Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”

The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.

Oh how you regretted that decision now.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”

Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.

“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.

She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”

Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.

You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”

When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”

She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”

You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”

Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”

You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.

You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.

He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.

“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.

Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”

It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”

He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”

You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.

Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury.

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”

You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m not-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”

You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”

He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.

Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”

You scowled at him. “Says who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”

You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.

“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.

Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.

As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.

Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.

You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.

When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.

“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.

Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.

Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.

“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”

You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”

He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”

Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist.

Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.

An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.

“Mrs May?” you asked.

The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”

You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.

“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?

Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones.

The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”

There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”

Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.

You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.

You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”

Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”

“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”

Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”

“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”

Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”

Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”

You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”

“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”

The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.

“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.

Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.

Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.

As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”

You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.

You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.

#wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #xmen #x-men #xmen movie #xmen movies #x men movies #marvel #hugh jackman #james logan howlett #james howlett #x men #xavier #charles xavier

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 8 months ago

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𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 & 𝐹𝒶𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒮𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓃𝓉

haha, another fic I wanted to finish...I'm team Black, I swear...but Alicent is just too pretty I don't know what to say

Summary: Alicent struggles to deal with the feelings she harbors for you, her chambermaid and ally.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), religious guilt, infidelity, slight dubcon, oral, fingering, some angst

word count | 3.2k🤙🏻

Alicent sighs heavily as you inform her of yet another servant that has been chased away by her son, Prince Aegon. She didn’t know why she was surprised anymore, it happened so frequently. Even worse, she expected it to happen more often as he aged. She just couldn’t catch a break…

It was hard enough being married to an old, rotting man at such a young age, but to raise all of her children alone? Alicent often wondered how they aren’t turning out worse than they already are. She had no support from anyone, not her husband nor her own father, him banished from the Red Keep and Lord Strong only helping her for his own gain and power. She couldn’t even rely on her childhood friend anymore, now her stepdaughter. It was almost laughable the hand Alicent was dealt. The Gods were cruel. But they did give her one good thing though; you.

You had been Alicent’s personal servant ever since her last child was born, helping raise them the best you could whenever Alicent had to rule in the king’s name, meaning she was often busy. You clicked instantly, though you had a sort of talent for always getting on someone’s good side. You could see the light in her eyes that was slowly dying out the older she got and the more time she had to spend in the Red Keep. You could tell she missed her home and her father, so you often comforted her whenever those feelings seem to cloud her thoughts. She warmed up to you pretty quickly, longing for a companion other than her favorite child. And when she needed information, you’d get that for her too. Unlike Lord Strong, you didn’t ask for anything in return.

The first time you made her laugh was when you accidentally voiced your thoughts about fantasizing about kicking his cane out from underneath him. You thought she’d scold you for thinking such a horrible thing, but the prettiest sound you ever heard escaped from her lips. Bashful giggles filled her chambers which caused your face to heat but filled you with a sense of pride. Even so, Alicent looked more ashamed of herself for finding what you said funny. But from then on, you were determined to make your queen laugh whenever appropriate.

She confided in you a lot, about everything, even things she never admitted to herself before you came along. You never judged her, ever. You may have been biased but in your eyes, your queen could do no wrong. For Alicent, ever since getting close to you, she started to feel things she thought she never would again. She hadn’t felt this happy being around someone since Rhaenyra was her best friend all those years ago. But therein lied another problem; Alicent wasn’t just friends with the Targaryen princess, she wanted to be more than that. Now that she was feeling that same way about you, her feelings of guilt came back even stronger than before.

Alicent always struggled with accepting herself. All her life, she was told how to behave and how she should be. Following the Faith of the Seven, being attracted to the same sex was strictly forbidden. It was just another reason to pick at her cuticles until they bled. She hadn’t done it in a long time (mostly thanks to you), but every time she had…sinful thoughts about you, she didn’t even notice she was hurting herself again until you called her out on it.

You were concerned and had asked what had been causing her to hurt herself again, but Alicent very well couldn’t tell you the truth, could she? So, she blamed it on Aegon’s behavior and that seemed to quell your curiosity, but you still kept a more watchful eye on her to keep herself from picking at her skin. You just didn’t know that you were the cause and kind of made it worse, though it meant you spent even more time with her, so she couldn’t really complain. But after this incident with the servant girl that Aegon harassed, you could tell Alicent needed time to herself, so you quietly dismissed yourself.

You felt horrible for thinking such things at a time like this, but you also felt you needed some special time to yourself. Unbeknownst to Alicent, you were having some of the same issues she had. Although, you were ashamed of yourself about it. Even though she was upset, Alicent looked absolutely stunning in her green dressing gown and the urge to relieve yourself was almost overbearing. Now, you weren’t the most lecherous individual, but to say you weren’t a prude would’ve been an understatement.

You had some distant relatives from Dorne and went to visit them for a couple months, your parents saying something about you needing to experience the world before being tied down to King’s Landing. You weren’t going to complain, in all your life you never thought you’d ever even travel past the Stormlands. You were somewhat sheltered, but just a few weeks in Dorne and you learned more than most highborn ladies ever did. You learned much about yourself with the help of the Dornish, especially learning about your sexuality which everyone was open about there. Even just a kiss in public between lovers always seemed to be looked down upon north of Dorne. You came back to King’s Landing changed, but for the better.

You found pleasure whenever you could and without shame, but you also knew you had a reputation to uphold, not just for yourself but for the family you worked for. Not many people get the opportunity to serve the royal family, so you knew acting out on your feelings for the Queen was the quickest way to getting your head impaled on a pike for all the Red Keep to see. You would be labeled a heathen, whore, and a dishonor to your family and those statements would follow you all the way to the Seven Hells. So, you always found your release in the privacy of your own chambers, not having to fear wandering eyes or ears. If you were ever to go to a brothel on the Streets of Silk, word would travel before you could even blink. But you couldn’t think of that now. As you laid back in your bed with your hand in between your thighs, all you wanted to think of was your Queen Alicent.

You ran your delicate fingertips over your hardened nub hastily, grabbing at your breasts, desperation painting your features as you thought of Alicent’s soft lips. You imagined how they’d feel pressed against your own, on your neck, chest, and even further south. Just the image threatened to oversensitize you, but you needed the thought to find release. “Alicent…” You breathed a whimpery whisper, your peak building steadily, that burn in your belly spreading over you like waves. But just as you were about to finish, you heard a loud gasp. “My Queen-!”

The Queen Alicent stood wide eyed in shock, mouth agape, unable to stop herself from looking where your fingers were coated in your arousal, your cunt glistening in the sunlight seeping through the curtains into your chambers. “My apologies.” Alicent spoke curtly, quickly turning and exiting your chambers without another word.

In quite a blunt manner, you expressed your embarrassment as soon as she was out of your sight: “Fuck.” You prayed to the Seven that she hadn’t heard you moan her name.

In truth, you had nothing to worry about. Queen Alicent was too flustered to even register that she was the object of your desire, blood thrummed loudly in her ears as her face reddened at the sight of you in the throws of near ecstasy. She didn’t know how to react, and she certainly didn’t know what to do about the ache in between her legs as she made it back to the sanctuary of her solar.

Alicent sat in her chair with a shaky exhale, closing her eyes to try and calm herself, only to see the image of your fingers inside yourself. She could still hear the faint sound of the moist suction from your fingers moving in and out, sending a shiver down her spine. She didn’t realize she was picking at her cuticles until she felt a droplet of blood running down her hand. It wasn’t enough that she had these sinful feelings and desires, the gods kept tempting her, but that went too far. How is she supposed to resist temptation when she has to be around someone so intoxicating as you? It wasn’t fair. Why were the gods consistent in handing her the short straws in life? What had she done to deserve such divine punishment?

The ache in Alicent’s core hadn’t faded, the image of you still burning through her mind. She gazed around, there was no one but her in her chambers and there was no one likely to barge in without knocking first. Perhaps this one time, she could try to quell that desire that’s begun to feel so familiar every time she’s around you. But she didn’t know where to start.

Of course Alicent knew of her clit, but she never dared to touch it lest she gets sent straight to one of the Seven Hells. But that spot of throbbing so badly, it would hurt to leave it untouched. So cautiously, she lifted her skirts past her knees, experimentally running her fingers up her inner thighs. The closer she got to that aching spot, the more her breath quickened. And just as she was about to reach closer, she stopped abruptly. No, as soon as she gives in to herself it's more likely she’s to give in to you. That couldn’t happen. That will not happen, or so she believed.

The next couple weeks were awkward, to say the least. The Queen could rarely make eye contact with you, let alone sit with you in private as you used to do. You knew it wasn’t really your fault, but you still felt guilty Alicent caught you like that. You knew she wasn’t used to pleasure, her marriage to an old man being proof enough. You felt bad for her, but you didn’t know how to help her if you even could. You tried easing into a discussion about it, but she never took the bait. You would’ve given up entirely if it weren’t for you catching her staring at you on multiple occasions. And besides, if she was offended or heard you moaning her name, you’d be a headless body right now. But the way you caught her looking at your fingers with an almost glazed over expression, you figured she wasn’t offended and uncomfortable with you, but herself. The poor woman, she didn't understand it at all, did she?

You decided to confront her later in the evening, when her other maids rested for the night and the children were asleep. Your heart thumped in your chest rapidly, scared but excited for how this conversation might turn out. You watched as she sat in her plush chair in exhaustion, looking at the window in thought. She was beautiful.

“Your Grace?” Your soft whisper almost startled Alicent if it wasn’t for the fact she was acutely aware of your presence at all times. “May I speak with you?”

Alicent shut her eyes, already knowing what you must’ve wanted to talk about. She did not want to have this conversation at all, but there was no escaping it any longer. “You may…” She spoke quietly, tensing up when you took steps closer to her, sitting on the footrest of her chair, entirely too close for comfort. It wouldn’t have bothered her before, your closeness, but all she could think about was you pleasuring yourself.

“If I can be quite blunt, your Grace…you’ve been distant these past couple weeks and it’s quite obvious why.” Alicent’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. “I hadn’t meant you to see me like that, my Queen. I thought I was alone…”

Alicent sighed, shaking her head. “I’m the one at fault. I never should’ve barged into your chambers like that, especially without knocking. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“And I’ve also noticed…how you can’t keep your eyes off me since.”

Alicent breathed in a sharp breath, her lips dipping into a frown. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I believe you’re forgetting your place.”

With a shaky exhale, you placed a trembling hand on the Queen’s clothed knee, feeling her tense immediately. “I think you do, your Grace. I may be disrespectful right now, but I can’t help but see how everyone else treats you, including the King. I can see how he doesn’t even care to make you feel loved. You deserve to be with someone who makes you feel like the only woman in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Alicent blushed brightly, whispering your name in disbelief.

“Please, let me serve you, my lady. Properly. That’s what I’m here for. I can’t see you like this any longer.” And without another word from either you nor Alicent, you delicately lifted her skirts up past her knees, smelling her obvious arousal from where you sat. She wanted this, whether she admitted it or not.

Alicent looked down at you with a conflicted expression, the soft tips of your fingers gently spreading her legs apart and tracing them up her inner thighs. Her core throbbed achingly, the guilt of sinning threatening to overwhelm her, but the feeling of you finally coming into contact with her dripping cunt making those feelings retreat to the back of her mind. So wet, you thought, bringing her face closer and licking a stripe up her slick folds. Alicent gasped at the sensation, the feeling of your tongue running up and down her sensitive flesh, making her wonder why she’d never had this done to her before.

Alicent’s moan as you circled the tip of your tongue around her clit was music to your ears, you would die a happy woman if you were able to hear her moans again and again. You needed to hear more. You used your middle finger to gently push inside her, feeling her tight walls clenching at the intrusion. She moaned your name as you thrusted your finger against her sweet spot as you lapped at her engorged clit. You could tell she was already so close, her moans raising an octave, her walls trying to push your finger out, and her hips bucking against your face. That fool of a King never made her feel this way, that much you were sure of. Could it be you’d be the first person to make her feel such pleasure?

You moaned as the Queen Alicent released on your finger and tongue, your mouth eager to taste and lap up all her sweet juices until she was licked clean. You were grinning as you pulled away, looking up at her like she was the one to put the moon and stars into the night sky. The Queen herself looked quite satisfied, a thin sheet of sweat coating her hairline, her natural curly auburn waves cascading down her body and framing her like a golden halo. Her eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated in the aftermath of her pleasure. “May I kiss you, your Grace?” But those words seemed to snap her out of whatever haze she was in, her eyes blinking rapidly, the fondness in them disappearing altogether and replaced with shame and rage.

“Leave. Now.” Alicent snapped, hastily smoothing out her skirts and pushing you away to stand. The feeling of rejection overtook the feeling of pride when you saw her legs tremble as she walked to her chamber doors, opening one and giving you a look that almost scared you. You left without another word, wondering if you should write to your family one last time before you were surely beheaded for overstepping.

You awaited death, but it never came.

Queen Alicent couldn’t stop thinking about you, no matter how much she tried to distance herself from you, you were her every waking thought. She hated feeling this way, wracked with such guilt. She couldn’t even look at her husband anymore, for fear that somehow he’d be able to sense her debaucherous acts with a servant. Her thoughts never drifted far from how amazing you made her feel, the memory of your tongue on her never failing to make her shiver. She had never desired someone so much after Rhaenyra, she never wanted to, but you invaded her mind and made a home there.

More weeks passed, you and Alicent together but never more apart. She only talked to you when she needed to, which she tried talking to other servants in your stead. It was infuriating, and it hurt. You almost regretted making your desires known, but it was done. You couldn’t change what you did. The Queen would have to decide for herself whether she wanted to continue what relationship you had on her own.

But for Alicent, it couldn’t have been further from simple. She wanted you, truly, but she’d be putting you and herself in danger if she pursued more. There were spies everywhere, and she couldn’t have any harm come to you. But every day, seeing you, it got harder to hold herself back. She needed you, and she knew you needed her just as much. At the end of the day, it wasn’t a difficult decision. She couldn’t keep herself away from you. You were shocked when she came barging into your chambers one day, without knocking once again. But she was the Queen, she didn’t have to knock.

“Your Grace.” You stood up from your bed with a startle, your heartbeat picking up at the sight of Alicent’s beautiful frame. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Alicent sighed breathily. “I didn’t know I’d be coming here.”

You raised a brow. “Why are you here, your Grace?”

Without another word, the Queen rushed to you, taking you in her arms and colliding her lips with yours in a passionate embrace. You moaned in surprise, her soft lips felt like pillowy clouds as she moved against you, bringing your body close to hers desperately. You never thought a pair of lips could feel so heavenly. “Your Grace-”

“Alicent. Call me Alicent.” She interrupted, keeping her lips close to yours, never taking her eyes off you.

“Alicent…” You whispered, “are you sure you want this? Want me?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” She spoke clearly, her big, brown, doe eyes boring into yours, making you feel like she could see into your soul. You believed her, and that was enough for you. Damn the consequences.

You surged forward, capturing her lips once again. “I’ve wanted this for an age.” You confessed against her lips, not having the will to pull away, even to tell her what you’ve wanted to say for what felt like a lifetime. “I’ve always wanted you, Alicent.”

“And I you…it took me a bit of time to figure that out. I apologize. I did not wish to be rude to you, but I was scared. I still am.”

You cupped her jaw, encouraging her to look into your eyes. “I’m scared too. But whatever happens will be worth being with you, my beautiful Queen.”

i'm team black, i swear😰

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x f!reader #alicent hightower x fem!reader #alicent hightower smut #alicent hightower imagine

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wcters · 2 months ago

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𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗦

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k+

summary: you run into daniel at a race, completely oblivious to who he is and what he does ━━ or ━━ a spilled coffee turns into a lot more than you thought it would

warnings: readers job is a crime scene investigator (it’s important, i promise), some awkward moments (i know nothing about flirting), some swearing, violence, sexual innuendos | may not be the best writing as it is my first time writing for f1 and i’m still new, first time trying instagram dm’s and things like that so let me know what you think!

The sound of the apartment door opening fills your senses as you wake your way into the apartment, pulling your shoes off and putting your keys in the bowl. You brush a hand through your hair as you breathe out a big sigh. When you get home, you finally let the days stress hit you, then you brush it off, and separate yourself from your work. It’s important not to bring home what you do. It would be damaging. As you make your way to the kitchen to refill your water-bottle, your phone rings from inside your pocket.

Setting your bottle down, you answer it without checking who it is. “Hey!” Your friends voice chimes out. By the sound of it, she needs a favour. “Hey. What do you need?” You ask her, lightly laughing as she gets out a “what do you mean?” “I know your voice. Now spit it out before I reconsider.”

“You know how I was going with Kayla to the Miami Grand Prix?” You nod, forgetting she can’t see you. “Yeah ━━ what was that again?” “It’s a formula one race being held.” You hum in response. “Well, she came down with a cold, no one else is available, and these paddock passes were too expensive to not use. Will you go with me?” You can hear her smile over the phone. “I don’t know . . .” “Come on y/n, you never go out unless it’s grocery shopping, work, or when I drag you out. This will be good for you. Plus, it may get you into formula one so I have another person to talk about it to.” You chuckle at that.

“First of all ━━ you are dragging me out, and second of all you do talk to me about it.” She lets put a huff that you know means “you know what I mean”. You do never really go out. It’s not that you’re a hermit and don’t want to, you just don’t get a lot of opportunities to and when you do, you can’t help but remember places you’ve been to at work and what happened there. At least at these Grand Prix thing nothing bad has happened as you know. “Fine.” She squeals and says thank you a million times before telling you when it is and when she’ll pick you up.

That’s how you end up in the paddock at the Miami International Autrodrome, following your friend around as she explains different things to you and fangirls over people. You remember some names that she had told you during one of her rants, and you smile when you see the smile on her face. You’re glad that she’s having fun, that makes you happy and makes this more enjoyable. During your walk, you stop at a coffee bar and grab an iced coffee while she gets a redbull coffee ━━ whatever that means ━━ and explains how the redbull team has it at every race. “You’ve wanted to try that since forever right?” You ask her, trading coffees and taking a sip. “Yeah. It’s supposed to taste amazing and also gives me the boost of caffeine coffee is supposed because it doesn’t from how much I drink.”

As you sip and she chugs her drink, you stop in front of a bathroom and she instructs you to wait as she goes in. You wait a little ways away, tucked out of the way and scrolling through your phone. It seems the person coming your way was also doing that as he accidentally bumped into you. You drop your phone, coffee lid opening and spilling down your shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

The first thing you note is that this coffee is incredibly cold, and that the man who bumped into you has an Australian accent. You bring yourself back and out of the cold feeling, facing the man. He must work here because he has a RB racing shirt on and a lanyard. “It’s alright.” You politely smile and pick up your phone. It’s not. It’s cold as fuck and it’s wet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and,” his voice trails off as you look around for an area to get something to clean you up.

There’s a pause before “I have an extra shirt in my room if you want.” The man offers. You’re a bit puzzled as to why he has his own room but you’re too concerned on the feeling of coffee in your shirt. “You sure you wont murder me?” You asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.” You stare at him for a little longer before you nod and tell him to lead the way. “I’m Daniel,” he tells you. You introduce yourself as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling self conscious at the way people are staring at you two.

“Straight to murder, eh?” He joked as you followed him. You shrugged, “it’s my first instinct. My job revolves around it.” He looked at you with a puzzled look, as if asking you to explain. “I’m a crime scene investigator,” you revealed as you got to a door and he led you in. You take in the surroundings as he opens a closet and digs around to find you a clean shirt. “My job is to determine ━━ well, more like make an educated guess ━━ on if the person was assaulted and how.” You thank him as he passes you a shirt he finds. He stands waiting for you to continue until he lets out an “oh!” and turns around, blush on his cheeks as he apologizes.

“How do you do that?” He seemed genuinely interested in your conversation, not just making small talk to cover the fact that a woman he’s just met is changing behind him. “The main thing I do is blood pattern analysis,” you start, voice slightly muffled as you skip your shirt off, “blood behaves to specific scientific principles as all liquids do, and so i use that information and what blood there is at a crime scene to do that.” You grab the RB shirt from between your legs and slip it on, telling him he can turn around.

“So we can analyze the size, shape, distribution, location and use the behaviour of blood, physics like the velocity and capillary action, math to determine things such as where did it come from, what caused the wounds, and how were they positioned to make a guess or determine what happened.” Daniel makes a slightly shocked face. “You can do all that from a blood splatter?” “Yeah, just like any other pattern,” you shrug while smiling, you feel proud, “I took a course on it. It’s really just looking at what’s around you. It takes a trained eye.”

“I think you’re one of the smartest people I have ever met.” He tells you, and you blush. “Thanks.” You mumble. You both stand there before you mumble about having to get back. “Oh right, of course. I’m sorry.” Daniel apologies as he reaches for the door and opens it, allowing you to go first. You walk side by side as you continue to talk about your work. When you get to the end of the garage, you say goodbye and you head to try and find your friend.

You eventually bump into her at the same coffee station. “Where were you?” she almost yells, “I was so worried!” “A guy spilled coffee on me and then offered to get me another shirt. I think he worked her. His name was Daniel.” Your friend finally notices the shirt you’re wearing and a look comes across her face. “Daniel Ricciardo?” “I don’t know. I didn’t get his last name.” You shrug, not realizing what the big deal is. Who’s this Daniel Ricciardo and why is he so important.

“What did he look like?” She pestered. “Tall, curly brunette, Australian,” she interrupts you with a gasp. You look at her confused. “That was Daniel Ricciardo, the F1 driver?” You look confused until you remember how she was talking about him a couple weeks ago. “Oh . . . Cool.” “I can’t believe you’re being so chill about this.” She shakes her head with a small smile. “I just don’t know that much about this, and don’t really care if he’s famous. He bumped into me and ruined my good shirt.” You tell her, lifting up the shirt. You laughs and let’s put a “true.”

You continue the day as you would’ve, her telling you more about Daniel Ricciardo, and pointing out his car during the race, as well as the other drivers. You’re starting to understand a little more. She gets a couple photos signed from other drivers and you both leave happy. You happy that you learned some new things and got a break from being inside your house and her happy that she got to do this. You knew it had been something she wanted to do forever.

When you go to bed that night after throwing your dirty shirt in the laundry with another load, you hang up the shirt that Daniel gave you and went to bed thinking about what happened that day, and that you also didn’t get a refund for your coffee.

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, kayla.k, and 238 others

yourusername had a fun weekend! thank you @yourfriend for the tickets and to the guy who spilled my coffee: you are forgiven because of the new shirt you got me, but i want a refund for my coffee 😌

view all 27 comments

yourfriend can’t believe you met daniel ricciardo and yet you want a refund for your coffee

↳ yourusername that was a good shirt :((

↳ kayla.k you met daniel ricciardo?!

kayla.k never been more mad at myself for being sick

user1 rip coffee

user2 so jealous

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 556,927 others

danielricciardo miami was great. not sure if he is alive but very happy for lando norris. and to the girl who’s coffee i spilled: i am very sorry but at least you got a t-shirt out of it 😄

view all 1,763 comments

landonorris i’m not sure if i’m alive either but thanks mate

↳ danielricciardo always

user3 that last photo 💀 you know he messed up something

user4 you spilled someone’s coffee? how’d that happen?

charles_leclerc from the videos i have, i’m not sure he’s alive either 😂

yourfriend @yourusername

↳ yourusername what?

↳ yourfriend he talked about you!

↳ yourusername i guess so 🤷‍♀️ i still want my refund

user5 he’s too cute

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 62,947 others

f1gossip daniel ricciardo was seen out for dinner last night in miami with mystery girl a couple days after the miami grand prix. who do you think she is? 👀

view all 2,286 comments

user1 maybe that’s the girl who he was talking about in his instagram caption

↳ user2 i doubt it. it’s not like their meeting was a big thing, he just spilt her coffee

user3 i’m just wondering why we’re still getting all up their personal lives

user4 you can tell it’s daniel from how tall he is . . . or the girl is incredibly short

↳ user5 i think it’s just daniel’s giant frame

user6 don’t crush my dreams 😩😩😩

yourfriend @yourusername girl what

yourfriend @yourusername text me asap

You didn’t even have time to see your friends comment on instagram before she’s calling you. “Hello?” You asked, making your way to your apartment. “Was that you in that post?” “What post?” You heard a scoff of disbelief. “The one with daniel and a girl who likes strikingly similar to you on a date last night? You just told me you were busy. Not busy with daniel ricciardo!” She yelled the last bit and you had to pull your phone away from your ear.

“I didnt know I had to! It was just a date.” You explained as you opened your apartment door and took off your shoes. “It doesn’t matter if it’s just a date, and it doesn’t even matter that much about who it’s with, you haven’t been on a date in forever.” You could tell she was genuinely happy for you when she said that and you smiled and blushed. You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you. “You have to meet me at a coffee shop and spill.” “Alright. Twenty minutes?” You replied. “See you soon girlie.”

You were there within fifteen minutes and were greeted with your friend smiling at you. You hugged her as she got up to greet you and then you sat down, taking a sip of the coffee she ordered you. “Besides the fact that he’s a famous driver, i am really happy for you babe. It’s good to see you happy and taking some time for yourself.” She told you as she grabbed your hand across the table. You smiled at her as you thanked her. She gave you a look as if asking you to start talking. “He’s really nice.” You gushed.

Her smile got wider than you’ve ever seen. “That’s so good! What happened? Where did you go?” “He picked up from my apartment almost 10 minutes early,” “ooh he’s early, gentleman.” Your friend teased. “He held the door open to the car and the restaurant. We went to that place on the corner near the diner we always go to. It wasn’t too fancy, it was like he knew what I liked.” You continued to ramble, your friend becoming more and more excited. “Yeah, so, I think we might be doing it again.” You finished, your coffee almost done.

“Y/n. Oh my god. You have to text me after and let me know. I want to know if this works out. I really hope it does.” “I will text you immediately after, unless we end up watching a movie or something.” She winked at you when you said that.

yourusername posted to their story!

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, yourfriend, and 23,294 others

yourusername all because of spilled coffee ☕️ p.s. i got my refund

view all 1,836 comments

yourfriend I KNEW IT

yourfriend i’m a mastermind 🤷‍♀️

user1 is that daniel ricciardo

user2 so cute!

danielricciardo ❤️❤️

↳ yourusername love you 🤍

user3 is this the coffee girl?

↳ user4 i think so, it has to be right?

user5 WE FOUND HER Y’ALL

kayla.k i’ve never been more jealous but also happy i couldn’t go to that race

danielriccarido

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 538,465 others

danielricciardo never been more glad to spill someone’s coffee

view all 20,719 comments

landonorris WHAT

user1 she’s an icon already, i can tell

yourusername you really outed me in the last one 😧😔

↳ danielricciardo that’s my job!

maxverstappen1 why didn’t i about know this??

↳ danielricciardo i’m sorry babe 😭😭

user2 y/n is really just a third wheel

↳ yourusername i love my boyfriend and his boyfriend

↳ user3 ICON

georgerussell63 next you’re going to announce that you’re secretly american and from texas

↳ yourusername 🤫🤫🤫

↳ user4 you’re joking.

user5 i don’t know if i want to be him or her

329 notes · View notes

haselovesriki · 9 months ago

Text

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 there’s nothing like doing nothing with you

bf!ni-ki x gn!reader

wc : 2165 (oops)

synopsis: after a week of stress following your exams, you can finally unwind and relax at home with your boyfriend.

warnings: kissing, skinship, swearing, fake argument, pet names (babe/baby), riki can carry reader, reader goes to school (college/highschool)

★ continue reading ↓

In all true honesty, the past week had fucking sucked.

Like, a lot.

Coming back from school absolutely and utterly drained was not an uncommon occurrence for you, being the overachiever and determined person you were.

Unfortunately, your despair had only amplified, especially after an entire week overflowing with exams after exams and endless studying.

The week had been anything but pleasant. Not a single day was left for you to rest; time overly consumed by either excess studying—consequently led by your perfectionism—, doing the fuckass exams themselves, or simply contemplating your horrible past decisions that landed you in a situation like this. All while being incredibly snappy and pissed at anyone that even dared to speak, look, or be in your presence…. including your horribly sweet and loving boyfriend.

So yeah, the past week had fucking sucked.

Thankfully, Friday eventually came around (despite having felt like a decade of suffering and unbearable psychological pain) accompanied by the sweet and warm promise of finally obtaining a sense of peace and tranquility with no more reasons to worry.

Preferably, by the side of your boyfriend who, unfortunately, had been the main victim of your impulsive and irritable attitude.

Now, finally being here in his presence cuddling in your warm comfortable bed after what felt like a lifetime of anguish, despair, sorrow and utter misery...

Well, you feel pretty damn good.

“I swear to god Riki, don’t leave me alone. It’s cold!” You exclaim dramatically as the boy decides to peel himself away from your clingy touch. He rolls his eyes playfully at your irony.

“Cold? You gotta be kidding me,” He lets out an incredulous scoff as he steps on the bedroom floor, though his mouth doesn’t hesitate to immediately form into an endeared grin as he watches you begin to sulk, before he continues;

“Baby, I’m sorry, but if I didn’t escape your death grip within the next 10 minutes I would’ve died from a heat stroke.” He sneers, but you don’t miss the gentle glint in his eyes and soft tone of voice.

To your over dramatic silent and sullen expression, he sighs defeatedly and turns around, facing his back to you.

“Fine, I’ll carry you on my back if you’re that adamant on me not leaving you alone.” As soon as the tempting offer leaves his mouth, your face immediately breaks into a bright beam and you waste no time to stand on the bed and piggyback onto him, wrapping your arms and legs around his figure.

You place a disgustingly wet smooch onto his cheek, snorting at his immediate recoil to the unexpected wet mark left.

“You’re so cute,” You mutter to him, happily placing your head above his shoulder and watching as he navigates his way to the kitchen while holding you.

“You’re cuter.” You hear him mutter, almost too quietly, nearly going unnoticed by you, but you catch it anyways and can’t help but break into a gentle smile at his shy compliment and kiss him once again on the cheek; this time softer, flowing with adoration.

Eventually, you both make it to the kitchen as he places you on the counter despite your initial objection. He pulls down the hood of your hoodie, placing an aggressive peck onto your forehead while holding your cheeks in his hands before opening the utensil drawer and pulling out two spoons.

You grin as you watch Riki navigate through your kitchen that he’s become all too familiar with, flailing your legs back and forth happily. As he grabs 2 bowls for you both, you think of how glad you are that no one in your family was home tonight to see you stare at him so lovingly, all too mushy and gushy, as they would probably call it. Of course they loved him, a lot, but it was still embarrassing when they could see how utterly down bad you were for the boy.

The boy takes out 2 ice cream flavours from the freezer and walks back to where you sit, scooping a delectable amount of vanilla ice cream into one bowl and cookie dough ice-cream into the other. Placing your bowl of ice cream between your legs propped up on the counter, he grabs his own bowl and shoves a spoonful of the cold, sweet treat into his mouth.

Out of impulse, instead of eating your ice cream, you pat his head, brushing your fingers through his soft yet messy strands of hair. He hums and subconsciously leans into your touch, not noticing your teasing yet warm smile.

The soft moment lasts for a few seconds, before you break the silent shell and ask quizzically, “Why are you having vanilla ice cream?”

“Huh?” He mumbles, snapping back into reality and raising an eyebrow at your question.

“No offense babe, but why the actual fuck would you choose vanilla ice cream over cookie dough.” You answer back, finally taking your own bowl and eating a spoonful before sighing with satisfaction at the taste.

“Well, no offence babe,” He mocks, “But vanilla is literally the best flavour. Why wouldn’t I?” He bites back, before adding;

“Full offence, by the way.”

“Vanilla is fine, at best, but it’s too bland compared to cookie dough.” You respond, rolling your eyes playfully and suppressing a smile that threatens to spill.

“Don’t yuck my yum, jackass,” He says, lips quivering as he holds in a cackle begging to escape. “Vanilla could never be bland. It’s a classic that could never go wrong.. wayyyy better than raw fucking cookie dough!” He exclaims.

“It tastes so much better than you say it does, I promise. Give it a chance, your whole world will transform. Promise!” You answer and place another spoon into your mouth, laughing at his unimpressed expression.

“Fine, let me taste some of yours then—“ Riki says, reaching for the bowl in your hands before you immediately pull away.

“Nuh uh! Get your own!” You exclaim as he lets out airy giggles, your voice muffled by the spoon still in your mouth and holding the bowl high above you so that he can’t reach.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t really thought about his height playing a factor. Which was, albeit, a really dumb move, because he is an absolute giant. Obviously, he would be able to reach the bowl in your grasp. Which is why, before you can even attempt to object, he has absolutely no problem grabbing the bowl from above you.

“Hey! Tha’s unfai—“ You exclaim once again with a voice muffled from the spoon in your mouth. Expecting him to eat from the bowl, you attempt to reach it from him, but to your surprise he places the bowl on the table. Suddenly, your face is barely half an inch away from his when he pulls the spoon out of your mouth and his lips touch yours.

You don’t react for the first few seconds, your lips completely still against his as you try to process what he was doing.

When it finally dawns on you, you can’t help but pull away from him, only to crash your lips back onto him harder. Shyly smiling into the kiss, Riki’s hands that were otherwise holding the bowl come to hold your head in his palm as he deepens the kiss.

His hands, as well as his lips, were cold against your own, due to him (luckily) having more time to indulge in the ice cream. You don’t really mind the numbing cold nonetheless, because a cozy warmth washes over you when you feel his lips on yours.

Your boyfriend detaches himself from the kiss momentarily to nestle himself between your legs and places his hands over your waist, laughing loudly when your lips chase his, wasting no time to crash back.

A content sigh leaves his mouth when you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grazing at his nape gently and holding him close to you.

A moment like this felt like it couldn’t be broken; time cocooned in the warmth of your shared affection, each kiss a promise.

You gasp when you feel him slightly nibble on your lower lip, a cascade of tingles shooting down your spine when his tongue immediately comes after to ease and swipe against your lip.

Your grip around his shoulders tighten, legs wrapping around him tightly and trapping him as you feel his smile against yours at your clinginess.

Relaxing your shoulders, you tilt your head slightly and start feeling like your body is melting. Your mouths are still somewhat cold from the ice cream, but the warmth of the kiss is scalding from within, warming up to each other’s touch. Suddenly, interrupting the warm silence you both had been able to build, a cold and wet feeling of what seemed to be his tongue shoots way too far into your mouth, almost making you choke as you pull away quickly.

“‘Ki! What the hell was that?” You exclaim, watching as he hunches over in a fit of laughter at your reaction.

“What, don’t you like a little tongue?” He asks between huffs of laughter, holding himself up on the counter edge.

“Not if you shoot that far down my fucking throat! Seriously, were you trying to kill me?” You ask, struggling to contain your own laughter starting to bubble from your throat as you watch him struggle to catch his own breath.

“In my defence, I was just trying to taste your ice cream!” He admits, holding up his two hands and palms outstretched by his head as a sign of self defence.

Dramatically gasping, you gently kick him in the hip, huffing when he yells out an ‘ow!’.

“You kissed me to taste my ice-cream?!” You ask exasperated, before continuing; “Wow, I see how it is, you’re so cold-hearted Riki. I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

You let out a huff, looking away and crossing your arms and exaggeratedly rolling your eyes but not hiding your amused smile.

He coos at this, breaking out into a smile before pinching both your cheeks, peppering your face with brutal kisses all over while muttering small apologies.

“Sorry—“ kiss. “Baby—“ kiss. “Just wanted to—“ kiss. “See what the hype was about.” Finishing his sentence with a final kiss on the tip of your nose, you can’t help but let out an amused exhale.

When he leans in to kiss you on the lips once more, you lean away. He cocks an eyebrow at that, mouth pursing into an unamused expression.

“Not letting you kiss me again after that stunt you pulled.” You state, avoiding his disappointed gaze that you’re sure would make you give in.

“But—“ He tries to object, but you’re quick to shut it down.

“Absolutely not. It’s what you get for using me for ice-cream, and for attempting tongue slaughter.”

You expect him to silently grudge at that, or at least try to argue in his defence. What you don’t expect however, is for him to sweep you off the counter and hold you in his arms, spinning you around in bridal style.

“Wait— let me go!” You exclaim in surprise, flailing your limbs in an attempt to escape his hold.

“Nope! Not until you kiss me,” He yells, eyes crinkling as his mouth forms into his wide boxy smile. Boisterous laughter fills the kitchen as you try to liberate yourself, him running around the house with you in his arms.

Finally escaping from his grasp, you make a run for it, running to the living room.

Jumping on the couches, you try to avoid him as he tries to catch you. The moment is childish, but fond nonetheless as he chases you around.

“C’mon, leave me be!” You beg as you navigate the room while standing on furniture, but he simply shrugs his shoulders with a beam ear to ear, finally reaching you and tackling you down on the couch.

Laughter continues to fill the room as you both attempt to catch your breaths from the house chase. His arms are wrapped around you so as to not let you escape once again, but you don’t really try to leave his touch this time. Finally, after a few minutes of calming down, he smiles at you and you see his eyes flicker to your lips.

You decide to take matters in your own hands and you reach to kiss him gently on the lips, cradling his jaw in your palm as you do so. As you pull away, you watch his face morph into a sheepish grin and a light crimson dusts at his cheeks.

“See? That's better,” You hear him mutter before he decides to nestle his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder, relaxing his limbs over yours.

By now, the ice-cream is long forgotten, but neither of you really mind, now finally in each other’s presence.

So yeah, the week had fucking sucked. But today wasn’t too bad.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

a/n : THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READINGGGGGGGGGEBDJDNFKSNFKENF

this is my first time writing a fic (also just my first time writing something for the fun of it in general) so it’s like… really messy 😭😭😭 wasn’t really sure what i was doing but i promise i’ll try to improve in the near future!

also i barely proofread,,, just slightly skimmed through to make sure it was alright. sorry if there’s typos or anything that doesn’t make sense!

i really really hope you enjoyed :) comments would be appreciated! and i accept any sort of feedback or constructive criticism that could help me improve my writing.

again thank you!!! 💓💓 have a nice day

#haselovesriki #niki x reader #nishimura riki #fluff #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen niki #niki x you #niki x y/n #niki imagines #enhypen riki #riki x reader #riki fluff #enha riki #enhypen fluff #niki fluff #enhypen x reader

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alphajocklover · 3 months ago

Text

The following story was a commission from a reader who would prefer to remain anonymous. They have given me permission to share this story. Quick thank you to them.

Made For This Town

Maxwell Ford was moving.

Specifically, Maxwell Ford was moving to a small town called Maxford.

Max Ford was moving… to Maxford.

It was almost funny, or at least it would have been funny if Maxwell wasn’t absolutely miserable about this entire thing.

Maxwell hated that they were moving again. His family moved quite a bit, his mothers job as a software engineer bringing them all around the country. Usually Maxwell was fine with moving. It was annoying but he was used to it. He was a fairly social guy and made friends easily. This time Maxwell doubted he’d make any friends at all, mainly because Maxwell was basically moving to the middle of nowhere.

When he had first heard they were moving to a town that shared his name he thought it was actually kind of cool. Even when he learned it wasn’t a city he had still been kind of excited. He had lived in cities his entire life, and had actually been curious about what it might be like to live in a small town. Then he had learned about what Maxford was actually like. There wasn’t a lot of information about it on the internet, which was a little strange since everything was on the internet these days, but what he had learned had soured him on the town completely. Maxford was… well it was weirdly normal. There was no other way to put it. The town was weirdly normal. Maxwell knew that a lot of small towns were conservative and focused on athletics, but Maxford seemed to take it to a whole new level. Everyone was conservative and athlete obsessed. Absolutely everyone! It didn’t sound possible, but try as he might Maxwell couldn’t find any semblance of any sort of counter culture. There were no nerds, no goths, no punks and no LGBTQ people of any kind. The only mention of LGBTQ people and Maxford were some quack conspiracy theorists online raving about some kind of reality changing forcefield. Maxwell was convinced that even if he found other nerdy or gay people like him in Maxford, they’d be absolutely crazy. It wasn’t like Maxwell could do anything about it though. He was just 18 and hadn’t finished highschool yet. He didn’t have the means to live on his own. So he resigned himself to spend his senior year surrounded by jocks. Though that didn’t stop him from pouting about it the whole ride there.

“God it’s like there's no cell service out here.” Maxwell groaned from the passenger seat of his family's subaru. Maxwell could hear his dad, Samuel Ford, sigh from the driver's seat, and could tell his dad was rolling his eyes without even looking. Maxwell knew it was all in good fun though. He and his dad actually got along great, which made sense considering they were both very similar. Both were skinny men who appeared younger than they were and had a love for sci-fi and video games. The only real difference was that Samuel was far more mature and less emotional then Maxwell. His emotional maturity and kindness was probably the only reason Samuel was able to get Maxwell’s mother, Rose, to go out with him. Rose was both attractive and ambitious, and Samuel absolutely adored her. She had driven ahead in the family's other car with a bit more of their stuff, so currently the car was just father and son.

“Son, I know you’re not really excited about this move…” Sam said sympathetically, a kind smile on his face “But I swear it won’t be as bad as you think. I know this town is different from the places we’ve lived before, but I know you’ll make friends.” Sam said. Maxwell doubted it, but said nothing and smiled slightly at his fathers attempts to cheer him up as they approached the city limits of Maxford. “You’ll see, son. As soon as we get in there…”

“You’ll be pulling pussy like fucking crazy.” Sam Ford said, a cocky grin on his manly face as he gave his son a knowing smile.

Max Ford puffed his chest slightly with pride as he smirked at his Dad. He wasn’t really worried about getting a new girl to go out with him, since chicks were basically putty in his hands. Why wouldn’t they be? He was a fucking stud. Over 6 feet tall with roaring, beefy muscles. He was so big he already had a place on the Maxford High football team without even having to try out. He had sent some pictures of himself to the football coach and got a starting place on the football team just like that. But Max liked it when his dad complimented him, since he had looked up to the man his entire life, so he pretended to be nervous about finding a girl for homecoming so his dad would try and cheer him up. His dad was fully aware his son was just playing, but studs like them had to build eachother up. As they drove through Maxford, Max thought about the upcoming school year with a cocky grin. He knew being the new kid in senior year might be a little weird, but a guy like him could make friends anywhere. Plus, a guy named Max Ford in a town called Maxford? It was like fate. Max was sure he’d be the king of his highschool in no time.

Sam pulled up at their new house, parking their SUV next to the family pickup. He got out of the car and sauntered over to his wife Rose, who was waiting for them. She had come earlier to get the house set up. Being a stay at home mom, Rose wanted to make sure everything was perfect for her man. Max rolled his eyes as his parents kissed sloppily, almost gagging as his dad groped his Moms ass. Turning away from them, Max saw a busty girl across the street, staring at him with unhidden interest. With a seductive smirk, Max stripped off his shirt, threw it to the floor, and flexed for the bimbo, who he couldn’t hear giggle and blush as he showed off.

Max laughed. A town full of hot girls and cool bros. It was like the town of Maxford was made for him. Or… maybe he was made for the town of Maxford.

**Hope you guys enjoyed another little trip to Maxford! I don’t know how the fact that the random town name I made up would also make a good jock name didn’t occur to me till now, but I’m grateful it did! If you like this, stay tuned for more or maybe even commission me. I already got another commission for a much longer Maxford themed story on the books! See you later!**

#muscle growth tf #muscle tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #nerd to jock #reality change #the hometown hex #my commissions

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dreemurr-skelememer · 2 months ago

Note

Hello :D

I have been following you for the last year or so (a few days after I got my Tumblr lmao) and I absolutely love your art!

I have been wanting to study your art style for a while but don't really know where to start,,,

Could you please show me a small portion of your art process, if it isn't too much trouble of course. Thank you and have a nice day!

hello. oh my god. this took forever to find.

im sorry it took 2 WHOLE FUCKING MONTHS for me to respond to this but i wanted to put it off until i felt happy with my art process again, so here it is

my fall 2024 rendering tutorial!

(this will be very very long)

FLATS AND WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO WITH LINES GIRL. then make sure to recolor the lineart to better match your base. trust me it helps, bold dark lines are Not your best friend when rendering. wait for that post-rendering

i start off with a doodle or a sketch, and then filling it in with flats and other details such as blush

FIGURE OUT YOUR LIGHT SOURCE. FIGURE IT OUT GIRL YOU CAN DO IT you can make it as simple as possible, make it as big as possible, dont even THINK about the details.........just make it really fucking big so you at least know where the shadows and the light goes THEN add smaller shading details LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME OKAY!!!!!!!!

my key point with this is for you to learn lighting fundamentals.

it's SOOO ANNOYING but alas......they are all correct. it helps a lot.

one thing i also really want to point out is that i like creating a big shadow shape first before fixing up the little details (such as folds and whatever) because it helps me focus on the way the lighting actually works instead of tunnel vision-ing into making the shading make sense on the clothing.

contact shadows (i dont remember if thats what theyre called okay) theyre fucking ugly because im not actually thinking sorry 💔

okay so basically:

contact shadows (if that's what they're called) are the spots in shading and lighting where light will NEVER hit.

shadows are still influenced by the colors and lights around it (it's why a blue shadow and a yellow shadow feel completely different, despite both being shadows) so it's not always COMPLETELY dark.

BUT! there are small points in shadows where light never hits, and they're almost always super dark or pitch black.

it's hard to explain shadow and light so briefly for a tutorial, but you'll notice it when watching fundamental studies and when trying it out for yourself

YES i unclipped the multiply layer YES its ugly and terrifying but it makes coloring the multiply layer easier okay the colors merged w multiply so now it looks cool and has depth overlaying colors that actually make sense

so basically what i did was color the multiply layer that i used to shade the overall drawing

adding a band of red/orange/yellow around where the light hits, and blue where the shadows get big and wide, gives it a fake ambient occlusion effect in the way that a person would get if they stood under the sun with a clear blue sky

the colors don't have to make sense, especially because i never draw backgrounds, but coloring the shadows really help it give a sense of depth and extra subtle detail and effect that just helps make the painting look nicer

around the end, i also put in colors (in an overlay layer with a low opacity brush) that actually make sense in context of the drawing, which is the lit cigarette and the yellow eyelights

mostly because none of the colors were making sense and i needed to actually make use of the lighting that DOES exist in the drawing lol

adding a muddy golden yellow pin light layer (opacity turned down to like 40-50%) to make the light colors less ugly lol

i SWEAR by the fucking pin light layer style. it's so useful and so so underrated.

i used an almost brown-ish gold color on stop of all the layers, and with the pin light layer, it helped make the bright (almost blue-ish) white colors more warm and more yellow. it just helps make things more warm (something i prefer)

i could probably show what it looks like without adjusting the layer opacity to truly show off what i mean (like in the coming section) but i sadly forgot to do that lol

make a layer on top of your drawing with this color in these ranges YES the drawing is fully merged NO don't be afraid, the base was fucking ugly anyway 💔 make this layer into an exclude/exclusion layer style TRUST turn down your exclusion layer opacity from a range of 10% to 40% literally until you're happy with the contrast and the way the color over the drawing. use your eyeballs. i know you can do it im so proud of you

this is pretty self-explanatory instruction-wise, so i'll go into why i do this instead

i really like art that seems like it has low contrast, with almost mid-gray shading and lines. i don't personally use dark and bold lines and shading, unless i find it necessary for the tone of the piece, so using this method helps lower the contrast of the art and make it look "pleasantly muddy" in the way that it's easier and softer on the eyes.

the inverted blue color also helps makes things warmer!

the exclusion layer style is still a bit of a mystery to me but i really like the effect it gives, even if i don't completely get how it works lol

if you want an alternative method to this, and if you have access to it (because i primarily use sai and sai only),

i absolutely encourage you to play around and experiment with gradient maps.

there are so many out there you can make yourself or even get from others that just give the painting an extra amount of depth and color variation. they're SO fun.

personally, if sai2 gets a gradient map update, it's over for y'all it will literally be so over no one will be able to stop me

then i merged everything and actually adjusted the contrast back up because it was looking too muddy for me 💔 but the color adjustments are still there so all hope is not lost here's a comparison of the adjusted contrast in black and white (adjusted on the left) (newly merged layer without adjusting the contrast on the right)

as you can see, i actually turned the contrast back up (despite talking all about how i liked things with less contrast lol)

i wanted to demonstrate that doing adjustments should be done in moderation, and is why i adjust layer opacity often when making color effects

you are free to play around with colors to help your style, but don't lose your initial idea and colors along the way.

you still need to trust your own colors and intuition!

along with that, i just want to say that it's completely okay to change your mind mid-painting, and it's okay to make somewhat drastic changes.

don't be afraid to change things you don't like or change your mind about certain aspects way later on

that's basically the whole thing of this!!! don't be scared!!!

now im gonna hold your hand when i say this..........but you need to learn how to render by yourself. it seems like i can teach you but i literally can't, because rendering is different on every piece and depending on how clean your base is. i have to render A LOT because of how fucking ugly my sketches are LMAO to simplify it, think of it as obsessively cleaning up every detail you can see, but with a color picker and a clean, hard edged brush. if you have shit lineart, you don't have to redraw it cleanly over and over, just paint over it. that's basically what rendering is

THIS especially is where you need to be brave and stop being scared.

like i said, i can't teach you how to render, and it's something you have to discover yourself because rendering is something that will always be personal to every single piece you make. the way you render on every piece is different.

on one piece, you will barely need to render, and on another, rendering is more than half of your ENTIRE process.

don't be afraid to paint over your old art.

rendering is a process that's both very perfectionist yet also very careless.

find your balance and just go for it.

and then that's it……..u did it………..now yuo know how to paint and render. it's literally just layering shading and lighting knowledge until you think it makes sense and looks okay lol additional note: since i render in only one layer (you don't HAVE to do this, but it'll be harder for you…), i also made slight adjustments with the transform (and liquify, if you have it) tool to make things more proportionate. (i drew the head too big lol)

if you compare the finished piece to the final unrendered base, you can see that a LOT changed, including a bit of subtle proportion adjustment.

particularly, the sleeves changed A LOT (because i really didn't like them)

but it's also over all cleaner and more coherent, instead of having haphazard colors and shading just thrown about.

rendering is when you finally use all 100% of your brain to finalize and figure out where the shading should go, where to clean up your lines, where to ERASE or ADD BACK in lines, and make sure all your colors look coherent.

it's not as intimidating as it seems, i only use a hard edged brush with a little bit of color mixing and my color picker.

it's like dragging and dropping colors to cover up mistakes, it's really quite fun when you get used to it

i wish i could explain it clearer but it's hard to describe without visuals!

i hope this helped, and i hope all my yapping isn't annoying (art as a special interest beloved)

have fun studying and trying to render in my art style!

#long post #art tutorial #rendering tutorial #art help #art tips #tutorial #kia doodles shit #artxstic-scr1bbles #tutoriel

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thigholstercas · 6 months ago

Text

So I wanted to have all these parts of scripts that I love with destiel moments that were erased, changed, or added context in one place. Bare in mind that there are some that are Production Drafts and others Writer's Drafts, and so on.

4x02 - Are you there, God? It's me, Dean Winchester

Oh honey, he's gonna be your husband

Honestly, I'm just putting this here because I love this scene.

5x04 - The End

Cas received the order to follow Dean's commands once, and he sticked to it up 'til the end of everything.

7x17 - Born again identity

Just remember, this was after everything that happened in season 6 and widow!dean arc 1.0

Forward to Cas' speech in 15x18, yes the parallels.

Swear this is a whole Dean thesis. If we go back to what started this whole thing in tmwwbk. Dean tells Cas, we can fix this. And he never stopped wanting to fix it.

8x17 - Goodby Stranger

Like, I know they established that it didn't make sense for Dean to say I love you here, which fair, and we ended up which I need you (somehow worse).

But if we look at this as a whole, what Dean might understand is that saying I love you makes people leave him. Fastforward to the part when Dean takes the sigils so Cas can find him and Naomi visits and tells him that Cas doesn't return his feelings. Fastforward again to the You didn't trust me because even if we get to know that it was hard for Cas to leave with the tablet, away from Dean, Dean doesn't. For Dean, he left him, without even acknowledging that he loves/needs him, ignored him, and didn't trust him. Imagine you say I love you and you are left feeling abandoned, betrayed, and angry.

8x19 - Taxi Driver

This in the middle of I love you, and You didn't trust me is something

8x22 - Clip show

The one guy that's always had your back.

9x22 - Stairway to Heaven

Don't know what they smoked to write this, but I want some

10x23 - Brother's Keeper

You'll see the word shattered used a lot. This very much both destiel and drowley imo.

Season 12 is weirdly filled with these, so here are special mentions (because the max of pictures is 30 and there are too many moments). Most likely, it has to do with the market research by the end of 2016, which is why from 12-15, these scenes are more emotionally charged.

Mary saying Good friend when Dean and Cas hug in 12x01

Cas told Mary I promised (Dean) when they were talking outside the barn before going in to help Dean save Sam in 12x02

Dean telling Mary Get him outta here! when Cas was wounded in 12x12. And of course, when Cas says the things they have shared changed him (but that's on screen)

Cas texts? from 12x16

Dean is a worried husband on 12x18.

Dean explaining that no matter how much Cas messed up, did the wrong thing, or every dumb move he got it in 12x20. Cas was always Cas.

12x10 - Lily Sunder has some regrets

Dean telling Cas he has changed, and it has all been for the good. Again, forward to 15x18.

12x19 - The Future

This whole episode is charged with scenes from Dean and Cas. Like you have the angry Welcome home from Dean when Cas returns from Heaven. Dean calls Cas a super strong dude in a trenchcoat. The mixtape scene with the That was a gift. To keep. And Dean softening a bit even if he's angry because he's more worried.

But I think the biggest one is this one. The destiel sex scene (jk)

And after this, even though it is said in the show. There is more insistence from Dean to not let go of Cas -> We're not gonna let you just walk away. Not again. Not happening.

12x23 - All Along the Watchtower

The word shattered is mentioned a lot in the scripts. This is every part that describes Dean's reactions after losing Cas. Forward to 15x18.

13x06 - Tombstone

This is one of the best things that never happened in the show. You have Dean choking down his emotions saying he's much better now and Cas who fought with the empty with everything he had in 13x04 to return to Dean, coming to a meadow near a windmill because Dean thought he'd like it.

13x14 - Good Intentions

Forget about the in love part. They are best friends, and we didn´t get this.

13x20 - Unfinished Business

He lost Cas and it damn near broke him. Not we lost Cas, I.

14x12 - Prophet and Loss

Losing Dean was unacceptable. Cas said that losing Dean was unacceptable. And Dean got emotional. And then forward to 15x18, Cas just goes no, Dean can't die because that'd be unacceptable to me, so i'll sacrifice. And then, Dean gets emotional. Again. But for Dean, the unacceptable happened.

15x09 - The Trap

Forward to 15x20. In this future that Chuck showed Sam that he lost Dean the second Cas was gone.

Have I said how much they used the word shattered. Anyway, Dean wanted Cas to stay. That's his best friend.

He's amazing.

15x18 - Despair

This is not that different from what it was filmed, it is just that seeing it described makes it different. Especially when you get things as Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester, Dean is emotional, stunned, shocked. And have I said how much they used the word shattered. Also, you can see how it starts as a confession because Cas is confessing that he made a deal, but then it ends as a declaration, a declaration of love. Which makes testament such a good word for it.

15x19 - Inherit the Earth

The fact that Dean couldn't say Cas was gone

He's not the ultimate killer. He's not daddy's blunt instrument. He's someone who raised his little brother for love, who fought for the world for love and the most caring man on Earth

15x20 - Carry On

We don't talk about this episode because the script has way too many [omitted] but this is exactly what happened in 15x09 when Chuck showed their future to Sam if they followed the road they were taking.

Okay, that was it. Probably missed some, but for me, these are the parts that stand out.

#destiel #spn #spn scripts #deancas

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goldsbitch · 11 months ago

Text

That second flight

part 4 to That one Christmas flight

summary: What happens when people stop lying to themselves? Sometimes, you get a good night out of it.

warnings: cheesy af, swear words and alcohoI guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

Do not fuck it up, do not fuck it up, do not fuck this up.

Hey you? What kind of a message even is that? Ugh. She ruined it. Now she will have to move away and start her life again.

The weather forecast predicted high levels of overreacting for today.

He must have liked the cool girl vibe she somehow gave of on the plane. Y/N prayed for the gods of cool vibes to bless her again.

Lando was just about to start an interview for Sky Sports when he received her message. He imagined this was how it felt to win a podium. On the top of the world. He gave an absolutely charismatic, energetic and funny interview. One that would surely create lots of gifs on the socials. PR manager even high-fived him when they finished. To be honest, he could not wait for a moment of solitude so that he could reply.

"hey" he started. "so I broke the rule, ups" Her reply came instantly.

"I've noticed. But then again, you radiate speeding tickets vibe from miles away. So no surprise."

He smiled, well aware of how efficient the Italian ticketing was running.

"paid one last week, so you got me there" "so, how's your cool student life going?"

"Trying gain some wisdom, as people just feel free to call me dumb on social media these days."

"compliments come in a variety of forms, don't discriminate"

From now on, there was no way back.

The next few days consisted of constant texting. Joking around, sending pictures capturing their daily life - both of them keeping in secret that lots of the information shared was nothing new. They were careful, somewhat distancing themselves from any real deep topics. But, days felt like blur, waiting for the next text to come and somehow managing to live the real life in between that. Y/N stayed in most evenings, almost making her friends concerned.

It did not take long enough for famously patient Lando to getting sick of it. They had a week between the next three week round of races. It was now or never. He missed one chance by being mr. mysterious, so mr. direct it was now.

"so, lady. what are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of the blue.

"I dunno. Probably studying, I guess."

"well, you're smart enough, you can skip that. let's meet up."

Y/N pretended to herself that she was second guessing. She headed out, to the bar where her friends were hanging out before they planned on heading to some faculty party. She felt joining them suddenly. Sat quietly, listening to their usual chit chat. Her charade lasted about seven minutes.

"Yes. Let's." she texted and threw her phone deep down to her bag. She was nervous, heart racing and mind quite not catching up yet.

"I need to tell you guys something," she interrupted them and almost demanded immediate attention. Questioning looks followed. "Uh, so I met this guy on a plane. And I'm gonna see him again this weekend."

Saying it like that, she realized that it was all kind of real and that she probably could not explain it in words how bizzare it all felt.

"Aw, that's cute! Tell us more!" Teresa clapped excitedly, the whole weird vibe surrounding her friend making more sense now.

Y/N expected her friends to be more shocked. "Um, yeah. It's just this guy. I don't really know how it's gonna happen, but yeah."

"Is he coming here? Can we meet him?"

Y/N kept the information that they already did to herself. Just in case she is left stranded alone and disappointed.

"I don't...I don't know actually. Yeah."

"We will do as we always do - sharing location and staying by if needed, honey."

Y/N missed a text notification. "great. i'll fly you out to somewhere where we can be alone, not to sound too creepy."

She landed an hour after him. Lando sent a picture of him waiting at the airport cafe.

He booked the best hotel room he could find. Well, technically he booked two rooms. Just in case she wanted to keep her distance or if by any chance he fucked up so royally, that she would refuse to share space with him. At least, he could walk away from this like a gentleman.

Since she last him, she forgot just how hot this guy was in person. Seeing him, sitting casually sipping coffee and glued to him phone, she took a moment to study him. It was as if he was tailored specifically to her taste. His clothes covering his godlike body, not too muscular but enough for the sight of his arms sending her to different dimension. The origin of her audacity she had to be the first one to talk to him on the plane was unknown to her. There was no more panic left in her body, as she had done nothing but panicking the whole flight.

She walked and sat opposite to him.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey yourself," she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence. Turns out there was a bit of panic left in Y/N after all. Last week she though she'd never see this guy. And now she was staring in his eyes.

"Do you want some coffee?," he asked innocently. He looked her up and down, excited to see her. All of his worries he refused to acknowledge were gone. After all, she got up and flew here just to hang out with him. The reality of this filled him with confidence.

"Yes. A small tiny espresso with no milk."

"Great. Let's grab that and hit the road."

Lando's car might have as well run on butterflies alone present in his vehicle. There was absolutely no way for him to drive some random rental car, so he called up McLaren people to provide him one for the night. It came up in the same conversation when he requested personal time off. Both things came to a certain level of surprise, as he had never done this before. Y/N knew she had to work on a group project for one of her minor classes. Just like him, she had done something she would not have dared - and completely ghosted her group for this weekend.

"You look nice, btw," he commented casually.

"Well yeah, when you're not on an overnight flight across half of the world wearing airport attire, it makes thing easier."

"Hm, I would say sweatpants have some magic to them."

It was hard for Y/N to get the image of him out of her head.

"So, where is my lovely kidnapper taking me?"

They discussed prior to this that the vibe they would like out of this was a casual dinner and then finding the shittiest club possible and have some fun, trying to remain as private as possible yet within the vicinity of the small Italian city.

"My assistant found this lovely little place in the centre. Don't get mad, but I had him completely book it out. You know, the privacy thing," he said with more insecurity than one would expect.

Y/N picked up on that and tried to lighten up the mood. It seemed a bit excessive to do that, but he probably knew what he was doing.

"Your assistant," she gagged over dramatically. "Jesus, am I not worth enough for you to google on your own? Mr. Busy man. Was he also the one who found me online them?" she joked?

"I'm sure I'd have to hire a special person to that if I planned on outsourcing it."

"Creep."

"You love it."

And she did.

He parked in front of the restaurant, without a care for the world.

"So you're telling me we're making a big deal about keeping a secret that you're here, yet you decide to park like a proper asshole?" she remarked while he opened the door for her. Jokes were making her focus on something else than the fact she was falling for him too hard.

"Oh, you're going absolutely hate my plan," he laughed as they were entering the full on empty restaurant.

"Wow, look at that. I invited all my friends!" he whispered to her ear before addressing the owner.

"Hello, you must be Dario?"

This Dario person smiled brightly at him. "Ah, mister Papaya!" Lando nodded and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dario then started speaking Italian without a care of the world. Language wise deaf Lando did not count for the fact people just did not speak English in this part of Italy. A tiny crack in his plan. What was he suppose to do, call Carlos? But, Y/N having spend a good year or two studying there was there to ease the situation. She whipped out her B1 Italian and greeted the man. Dario's happiness filled up the room.

He seated them and immediately brought local red wine and giving a long talk about where this wine was from and how his grandma used to pick up the grapes herself and how the notes did this and that. Y/N tried to translate at the beginning, but Dario looked like was ready to give a TED talk. She started to loose the grasp of the story, which Lando observed. And like good gentleman he helped her out. No, of course not, when he saw her getting lost, he put on a super interested face and asked about seven follow up questions. Y/N was super annoyed. The kind of annoyed that creates a smile on your face.

When this showdown finally ended, Y/N nearly gulped the wine down. "So rude, Dario just said, you're suppose to sit it and let it roll," said Lando and with too much affect sipped his wine. "Aah," he took a deep breath and the bit his tongue. Y/N stuck her tongue out completely like a five year old child. "Yes, I can your red tongue, that's also one of the reasons why you sip it."

They sat, talked and laughed. He seemed genuinely interested when she blabbed a little bit too long about her latest projects. And then he asked her for a feedback on his latest merch, which by sheer coincidence included lots of photos of him. It was hard to admit how much he enjoyed the idea of her looking at him.

"So, um. I'm not sure I understood Dario correctly. But it looks like he insists on getting us the local speciality," she said hesistantly.

"Well, only if his grandma would approve. But why is this strange look on your face?"

"I must have gotten it wrong. Because burnt pasta just sounds wrong. If I wanted that, I could have stayed and have my roommate cook for us."

"Hm, that is an interesting idea." Lando pretended he did not know her roommate's name.

Once Darion brought out the burnt pasta, the couple had a hard time not to laugh.

"When in Rome...well not in Rome, but you get the idea."

"Why is this good?" Y/N proclaimed with her mouth full to the limit.

Lando laughed. "Ah, we have a lady at the table, I see. I mean yeah, I am not supposed to be having pasta now, but this is so weirdly good."

They finished their strange pasta and the bottle of wine. Said goodbye to Dario, Y/N tried not to think on how much it cost to close a restaurant down.

"Wait, what are we going to do about the car? We can't drive now."

"Not to sound like a complete asshole, but I'd like we remove the WE from any sentence including driving now at the beginning, if that is ok. And like I said at the beginning, you're gonna hate this."

"Go on, Lando boy. Tell me."

"Yeah, the car was provided by my employer. And they really need me, so I'm just going to leave the car here to get towed and inform them later."

"Jesus, why!"

"Well, I figured we'll get a taxi in the morning. I want to enjoy all the time I have with you. Dealing with the car is not on the menu today."

There was nothing for Y/N to reply. She was having too much fun to be thinking.

They found what seemed to be the shittiest bar playing 80's and 90's songs, weirdly colored lights swinging out of the rhythm and with people there consisting of old papas and few probably underaged kids. They brought their own wine bottle from Dario, Lando paid 100 euro for two glasses and for the bartender leaving them alone. It did not take long for Y/N to break out to the dance floor. Lando watched her clumsy yet somehow elegant moves for a moment, before he joined her. They danced, as if they were the only people there, laughing and completely ignoring the looks they were getting. And to the tones of remix of Brother Louis, they kissed again. And this time, they kept kissing until late hours, hand roaming around each other, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time.

part 5

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Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1 @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother

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lexirosewrites · 4 months ago

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popping in for slick sunday thinking more about a fic i have in progress right now (quick cw for threats of violence) :

specifically a scene where omega!steve and alpha!eddie have their daughter (well, steve's daughter, but she might as well be eddie's too at this point) at the park or something. somehow, in the minute or two they looked away for some undetermined reason, their girl disappears. one minute, she was going down the slide, and the next, gone.

it doesn't take long to find her. five minutes, max. she didn't get far. but in those five minutes, steve's entire world is collapsing. he can't live without his daughter. he's on the verge of a panic attack when eddie finally spots her, just off to the side of the playground picking some flowers. steve's panic morphs straight into anger the second he sees the man standing next to her. a man he recognizes.

he storms over, eddie following behind like a lost puppy who has no idea what's going on. eddie had been fortunate enough in his years to never bear witness to true omega rage. until now. he'd heard stories of omegas protecting their pups, doing whatever it takes to keep them safe, but he had never seen it in real time until this moment. he doesn't know who this man is, but it's clear that steve does, and he wants him nowhere near his little girl.

steve calls his daughter's name, visibly trying to keep his cool and not scare her. she looks up, and the brightest smile stretches across her face. "look, daddy!" she calls back, holding up her tiny fist, full of flowers. "i got flowers!"

"i can see that," steve responds with a soft smile, one eddie has only ever seen him give to her. "why don't you and eddie take those very pretty flowers back to the playground, my love? i'm sure he can help you find something to put them in so we can bring them home with us."

eddie wants to protest. he wants to stay, to figure out who this man is and why steve is so hell bent on being alone with him. he distinctly smells alpha on the stranger, which only makes him want to stay more. however, he listens. mostly. he does take her back to the playground. they find a cup to hold the flowers in, in the bag steve packed. then she goes back to the playing, running around with some of the other kids. the whole time, eddie has one eye and one ear on steve and the stranger, who isn't such a stranger.

the conversation starts out hushed. eddie can't hear anything. soon, though, there's shouting. eddie can't help but watch, slowly migrating closer in case he needs to step in. whether that would be to protect steve or the stranger, eddie isn't so sure.

"you're the one that didn't want this, tommy!" steve spits at the stranger, tommy. "you're the one that walked away!"

"you can't keep me from my own kid, steve," tommy spits back. "i have rights."

ah, eddie thinks to himself, this is starting to make a lot more sense.

"you gave up those rights when you walked out and told me to never contact you again, asshole. she is not your kid. she's mine."

"she has my DNA, doesn't she?" tommy crosses his arms. "you'll either let me see her, or i'm taking you to court for full custody. your choice."

"like fucking hell you are. i swear to god, tommy, if you come anywhere near her ever again, i will slit your fucking throat."

that's all i have thought out for this so far, and it'll be much more detailed and planned out if/when it eventually gets put into the fic itself, but i've been thinking about it a lot lately and thought you might enjoy it :)

happy slick sunday, friend :)

protective omega steve is the best!! thank you for sharing and happy slick sunday to you too!!💛

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 3 months ago

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Hi ! I wanted to say I love your work a lot, especially those stories about Tokyo Debunker characters going to the future !! Would you mind doing one with Sho please ?

A bun in the oven

Cw: Hyde slips a future potion into Sho's drink without him knowing, reader described as pregnant

Wc: 1,2K

Notes: if there is something in the new chapter that contradicts anything in here, no it doesn't (haven't gotten around to reading it jiji)

For some reason this doesn't read like I wanted it to but it's kind of cute sigh

Sometimes muscle memory takes over when Sho cooks, zoning out and looking at nothing while cutting vegetables or mixing batter, more than once freaking Leo out at his zombie like state.

It just came so naturally after spending so much time in his hobby, mincing garlic, salting water and reducing the sauce. It isn't until he dips his chopsticks in his mouth that he snaps back.

An horrible itching and burning inside his mouth waking him from his trance. He quickly throws aside the offending chopsticks and hurries to the sink to fill a glass of water.

Without a care, he throws his head as he chugs the water faster than he ever shotgunned a beer. Not even caring to wipe the droplets slipping from his lips to his chin and down his neck.

There is only one reason he would cook something like that, he thinks, god-damned Leo and his hellish spicy things. He always tells him that he won't taste anything but the chili oil and jalapeno but he just rolls his eyes and tells him to do as told.

That damned brat, how can he even eat this bullshit without losing his tongue? Maybe he lost his sense of taste after chewing on his special artifact so much, he insists it doesn't taste like anything but some anomalous chemical in it must have ruined his tongue.

Footsteps sound behind him but Sho doesn't pay it too much mind, must be leo, he thinks while swishing water inside his mouth and spitting it out. The last time he spits it out he is lucky it didn't go up his nose at the unexpected hug. Arms wrapping around his waist and someone's head resting on his shoulder.

A soft voice talks just behind him, the sweetness dripping from it too real to be Leo's “Thanks for cooking for me, love, I know you hate spicy with your whole soul after Hyde tricked you” was that…? If Leo was pulling his leg again he swears to God he will never tell him anything ever. Just one time he tells Leo he likes to spend time with you -maybe a little too much to be like friends- and he has never known peace since. Whenever Leo gets slightly bored his little crush is something so easy to exploit, teasing about white day's gifts, sending him photos of couple's discounts at stores, links to rings with obnoxious remarks like ‘Better hope they have cheap taste’ or ‘your food truck better be making some good revenue otherwise I see it hard. I'm not lending you even one yen’

Ripping him away from his thoughts, the muscles under his skin tremble and shudder as if an electric current went through them as your lips fall just beneath the angle of his scapula, an almost mockingly honest ‘mhwa’ follows as you get away. Luckily you didn't do it as he was pouring the blistering oil in the bowl or when he was cutting the garlic, Sho is sure he would have spilled oil all over himself or sliced his finger open.

“Whatever. It should be ready” he mumbles as he drags the cutting board and pot where the oil was boiled to the sink to scrub them.

Without a peep you grab the bowl and walk off to the kitchen island.

“So how was the truck today?”

“Hyde was hanging around all day and wanted to watch how I did everything, such a nuisance.”

“Like a little kid! Maybe that is why he was so happy at having a nephew, he wanted someone close to his maturity!”

Letting out a small laugh to let you know he heard you, his mind starts chewing and begins to understand what you said. ‘nephew’ stands particularly up, he is Hyde's only sibling, so that would mean… no, there is no way, is it?

And for once, he turns around to see you, not dressed in school uniform and loafers with tidy and neat hair but rather you are on the stool wearing a t-shirt he has been thinking about buying for a few days and your hair on a messy bun. But that is seen as normal over your hand, spotting a ring over the sage's ring, resting over a very noticeably pregnant stomach.

Oh, fuck, it wasn't a prank, that fucking masked creep truly got that damned potion. That is why he was so fucking annoying to get him to share a drink. He should have known it wasn't from the goodness of his heart. Was he getting back at him from when he stole his beers? Immature bastard.

“Huh? Is something wrong” lazily you lean back and look at him wondering.

“... No, not at all”

Leaving the dishes halfway done, he sits on the stool next to yours and stealing glances at you

“baby, he is kicking, have a feel” without giving him a second to pull away his hand lies flat against your swollen stomach, and soon is greeted by a harsh kick from the depths of your body “he is kicking like crazy”

“Are you sure it isn't because… he hates spicy” it takes him a second to not call that an ‘It’. He does like you, maybe enough to have a serious relationship and not just mess around like he always does but it's a wide jump from the ring around your fingers and having a fully fledged family.

“If that was why then your son shouldn't make me crave spicy food!”

“Are we sure it's not Leo's?” He jokes, unsure how to continue the conversation, and gets a smack in the arm while you laugh “hey, I think it's a fair enough q-” suddenly another smack lands on him but this time it's harsher and directly on his face, accompanied by such and annoying voice.

“Shohei-kun~~” his brother is hunched over him and slapping his face, there isn't much worry on his face as annoyance, as if him being out of it because of something he slipped in his drink “finally~♪ I would have thought ghouls have a higher tolerance to potions but doesn't seem like it”

Sho’s hands fly to Hyde's collar, or so he thought, his body must still be halfway asleep given how easily he dodged his grasp.

“No need to get so aggressive so soon! I just wanted you to tell me how your future was going to be but I doubt you are speaking, right?” Wobbly kneeling up Sho only is capable of snarling a string of curses making his brother, who rolls his eyes and helps him up on a chair.

“You should get better in a few minutes, how about you tell me all about your little dream when I come back~?” And hurriedly he rushes out of his own office to dodge a book thrown by his little brother.

Sighing into his arms, it seems that the only way to calm his stomach and stop his head from spinning was closing his eyes and anchoring himself to the desk. Stupid Hyde and his stupid potions.

Cracking his left eye slightly at the buzzing of his phone, he is faced by the only text he couldn't stomach to answer right now. Even a text from Leo or Hyde would be better.

Senpai: Sho, are you fine? I couldn't find you at recess

Senpai: call me when you see this, don't make me worried!!

He should call you but how could he look at you in the eye after that “damned masked freak”.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker sho #sho tokyo debunker #sho x reader #shohei tokyo debunker #shohei haizono #sho haizono #tdb #tokyo debunker x reader

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fan-goddess · 1 year ago

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aemond + sex pollen + getting caught + public sex 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

aemond is betrothed to reader (who he only v recently met after she comes to KL), they had no intentions to bed each other before the wedding bc honor ofc it’s aemond lol but the pollen gets them and they dont even get to make it out of the gardens before they started getting freaky 😭

Authors Note: oooh great idea nonnie i like how you think! The setting is similar to the small garden with the gods wood tree, but it’s A LOT more secluded than that. Plus changed Aemonds morals a little but it’s still the same man we know and love ❤️

Warnings: P in v sex, public, getting caught, praise kink, breeding kink, praise, degrading, mentions of aegon being bad, alicent shows up surprise! (I know I’ve missed a lot let me know what though so I can add them!)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @arcielee, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat, @lovelykhaleesiii

Ever since you were a young girl, your duty had all you’d ever been taught.

It was what your whole childhood had been preparing you for. Your septa’s had taught you what you must do to make t your husband happy and content with you, whilst your mother had insisted on taking on the role of teaching you the acts of the marital bed.

It was graphic, how she told you that you must simply lay there and allow the man to enter you, allowing him to do whatever it took to for him to impregnate you.

It was those teachings alone that haunted you for days when you were informed of your newest betrothal to the young Targaryen prince.

You had heard the gossip of the eldest prince Aegon. How maids that were assigned to his quarters left mere months later with not only a coin purse, but a swollen stomach hidden under their dress too.

It’s probably was why you found yourself as shocked as you were when you met the prince Aemond, and fell in love with him as deeply as you did.

When you kissed him one late night in the depths of the library, it felt like everything was right. Aemonds hands felt perfect as they held your waist and chin respectively as he could. Yet no matter how disrespectfully you wish for him to hold you, your duty once again held a tight grip on both of your senses.

You knew that the morning after your wedding night, the bed would be checked to see if you had bled. And if you haven’t, you would bring a great shame and dishonour on your house, no doubt passing onto your own family you and Aemond would create.

So no matter how deliciously sinful it is to feel Aemonds lips on yours, that addictive forbidden feeling of his hands beginning to roam your body in between the tall bookshelves flowing through your veins, you know your duty as of now holds you hostage.

“Aemond, we-we cannot do this here…” You murmur between kisses and heavy breaths, trying your best to keep your composure as you lean away, only for Aemond to immediately follow your head with his own eager lips.

“Please my love... just five more minutes alone with you... then I will be satisfied. I swear it!”

“You swore you’d be satisfied nearly an hour ago my dragon! You’re never satisfied whatever it is you do! Whether it is your books, your training, and now even me it seems!” You grin, biting your swollen bottom lip in a teasing motion that only makes out betrothed more undone as he groans slightly in frustration.

“I am a prince of the realm! I could easily demand there be no checking of your blood!” It is almost amusing how desperate Aemond looks in that moment. His eye blown wide as he looks at you. His lips nearly swollen like your own. Even his cheeks now a deep shade of red.

“Aemond my love, it is because you are a prince of the realm that they check my Maidenhead!” You laugh lightly, stepping away from Aemonds heaving form that leans on the space you stepped from.

“I-I’m sorry darling. The moment got away from me… I will see you in the morn. Do you wish to break fast together? I could tell the chefs to prepare your favourite?”

“Aemond my love, we have broken fast together for nearly two weeks now! You must spend more time with your family before your mother believes I’m taking you away from them!” You laugh, intending for a small joke, only Aemond looks serious as he responds.

“I don’t care. You’re my family too. Married yet or not.” It leaves a heavy blush on your cheeks as you move to kiss his scar with devotion.

It takes the two of you a while, but eventually you find your own ways back to your respective chambers, where the both of you much to your respective guards reliefs, stay till the next morning.

Aemond to his chagrin meets with his family, while you dine with your own.

Your mother can’t help herself but talk eagerly on the debates of your wedding. What colour gown you shall wear and what food will no doubt be at the feast. But instead all you can think of, is meeting your betrothed later that day in the gardens, just as he suggested before the two of you parted.

Eventually you escape your mothers questions, and when you make your way to the gardens, you can’t help but admire the bright flowers as you walked past.

You turn your head, and when you spot Aemond standing there smiling by the godswood tree as he watched you, you can’t help but smile seeing the small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Here you go my love. They’re flowers newly shipped from Lys, that have not even had the grace to sit in Westeros soil yet. I thought you deserved the first bouquet of them before anyone else…”

“Well thank you darling…” You smile, grinning slightly at Aemonds out of character bashfulness before leaning forward slightly and sniffing the bright flowers.

Only, you can’t help but gasp slightly when you’re suddenly hit with a strange smell. One akin to dark chocolate and a slight tinge of salt. It was odd, given what it was you were smelling, but what’s even stranger is that you find yourself already addicted to it within mere seconds. Already eager to bury your head into the arrangement and practically live there in order to smell that delightful thing as much as you could.

The only reason you find yourself not, is because Aemond quickly takes the bouquet out of your hands to sniff it himself.

Only when you see his eye widen and look at you, you can practically see it turn from a light lilac to a dark shade of purple, and you realise it’s not just you whose affected by the strange aroma.

“My love… I wish I could be sorry for what I am about to do, but I’m not.” Is all he says, before dropping the arrangement somewhere and shoving you against the tree, his lips eagerly connecting with yours in a passionate embrace.

Yet even with the vow of keeping your honour and your maidenhead screaming at you in your head, the feeling of Aemonds hands roaming your entire body is doing something to you that you cannot help but embrace wholeheartedly.

Your own hands eagerly take grasp of Aemonds hair and tugs, allowing a deep groan of his to practically resonate throughout your whole body.

“Aemond…” You murmur, “I want this. So much… but are you sure?”

He growls as he speaks, as if taken over by some other being, and you can’t deny how it makes your smallclothes feel strangely sticky and wet against your skin, and how much you like it.

“Of course I am ñuha jorrāelagon… but I must say that with what is coursing through my veins, I will not be gentle with you, like how I know you would enjoy. I will be rough, and animalistic. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Yes Aemond… I think I am able to handle all that… and more-“

You don’t even get to finish, as Aemond takes ahold of your face and kisses you harsher than he ever has done before. His teeth clash against yours, and you almost swear you can feel a tinge of blood on your tongue as he forces his and your own to move in some strange type of dance.

It’s so intense that feeling, that you don’t even realise entirely when Aemond rips the front of your dress open, allowing your front body to be revealed to him whilst you shiver slightly at the cold. Though you begin to quickly warm up when Aemond hot mouth leaves wet kisses all gone the length of your chest, trailing all the way to your breast that heave under the harshness of your sudden breaths.

“Good girl… what a good fucking girl I have for me to marry, and fuck my seed into…”

You whimper, and it all seems to turn into a sort of heavenly haze.

The taste of his lips on yours are like pure heaven, and his touch feels almost sinful as his fingers tweak and kneed at your breasts with hunger.

It’s only worse when he practically rips your soaked through smallclothes from your body, and stops a moment to smell them. The sight alone shocking you whilst you hang your mouth open in surprised arousal, a small breathless sound you don’t even realise you’re making being all you can say in that moment in response.

When he stuffs them in his pocket though and quickly undoes his leather trousers, allowing them to fall to the floor, the desperation in your entire body making you feel as if on fire when you catch sight of his cock, which smacks against his belly with a slight wet sound.

“Do you wish for it wife? Do you wish for me to fuck you senseless and fill you with my seed, until all you can feel is me? Until you’re stomach is swollen with our babe? Our heir?”

You’re breathless, but you don’t know what else to be. All you can focus on, is him, and nothing else.

When you nod your head enthusiastically though to his question, his brows furrow in some type of anger, and quick apologises and pleas spill from your mouth.

“I’m sorry husband, yes yes yes please fill me with your seed! I want all of kingslanding to know who is my lord husband, and who has claimed me as theirs! I want your cum dripping down my thighs and to remain inside of me until a child is born from us! Please husband allow me to carry your heir!”

Your pleas certainly seem to affective, as Aemond releases a roguish growl of approval and quickly moves to position his weeping almost pretty looking cock at your entrance, before looking at your face carefully whilst he inserts himself slowly.

You can feel your face scrunch in a painful way whilst you make a wounded sound, but Aemonds soothing touch and words make you preen so much you almost find yourself forgetting about it all.

“Doing so good for me ñuha ābrazȳrys… my sweet wife’s going to be dripping of me…”

You let out a broken moan, and yet in Aemonds eye it is too loud, as he swallows it with his own mouth. His tongue prying you lips open and practically dancing with yours.

He ruts into you like a madman, the thrusts having no true rhythm as he allows himself only to have his mind sink into the feeling of pleasure only you can give him. The feeling that consumes him better than anything in the world.

It’s deadly, and hot, and sinful, which is why it is such an addictive thing to be feeling at that moment as he groans into your mouth. The frantic rutting of his hips becoming somehow more manic as you feel his cock throb deep inside your heat.

However, such an addictive thing is dangerous, as when Aemonds grip on your upper thighs tighten to become near bruising whilst his cock spasms slightly as he groans in completion, your own face hidden in the sweaty curve of his neck as you feel your own walls tightening around him. However, the sudden realisation of a voice being heard, leaves your eyes suddenly widening in horror.

It’s a shrill feminine voice that speaks. “What in the seven is going on here!”

You can feel Aemonds spent still hot in your womb, aswell as your own juices dripping down your naked legs, which is why it is so horrifying to turn your head to see who the voice belongs to, and make eyes with the queen. Who stands before you and Aemond with a stern and scared face, her eyes seemingly unable to continue to stare at the scene before her as they look to the sky.

You and Aemond quickly move to correct yourselves, even though that feeling of desire in yours and his’ bodies almost seem to force you to want to continue. Though the shame quite forcibly overwhelms it.

It’s overwhelming in fact, when you attempt to make yourself modest and realise Aemonds eager attempts to caress you made it so the front of your dress is ruined. It’s even worse when you quickly realise you have no smallclothes to stop the trail of Aemonds spent flowing down your thighs.

An almost amused expression taking over him when he sees your dilemma, and an even stranger reaction seems to take over him when his mother turns her back for a second and he flashes you a glimpse of your smallclothes from his trousers pocket.

“I have excused Aegons debauchery for many years, and for it to go unpunished-“ The queen starts as she can now finally look at the two of you, her hands fiddling with themselves whilst she does so in what can be described as a nervous manner. “Which is why I cannot allow this sort of thing to go unpunished now with you Aemond. I would have never of suspected this of you my son, and this is the reason I feel so shameful of you. I expect this of Aegon, not you.”

You turn to your betrothed, and the man flashing you a view of your smallclothes with a smile on his face is gone. What instead stands beside you is a grim faced gentleman, who is an image of solemness and dishonour. It is obvious how much the queens words have affected him, no matter how much you know he’ll deny it later.

“I shall make it so that the two of yours betrothal to be hastened. As quick as moon tea is to be made and drunk, we cannot allow gossip to be weaves into our already, dare I even say it, hellish society. Is next month too quick? I only say as as much as the two of you would like to deny, it only takes one time to conceive a babe. That much your brother has proven to me…”

The queens words shake you, and yet when you meet Aemonds own anxious gaze, the two of you cannot help but nod heads in agreement.

“Splendid! I do believe this soured castle is in need of a happy day or two…” The queen smiles, almost looking lost in thought for a moment at the idea, before walking away without a glance behind her. Allowing the two of you to stand in the seriousness of the moment.

Aemond turns to you with sorrow, and you almost find yourself gasping in shock when he begins to get on his knees and grasps his hands on yours. “My love… I am so sorry! I have dishonoured you greatly with what was supposed to be a gift, which I why I completely understand if you wish to-“

“Aemond my dragon, you must not be sorry! We both had been struck with whatever was in those dreaded flowers! Yet it does not matter now! I love you, my dragon, and this will not change that…” You kneel with him in the dirt, and it’s like his whole personality changes, as he pulls you into a deep hug and buries his face in your neck.

Your hands move to cup his head where it lays, and you almost swear you can feel the fabric of your dress dampen with possible tears. But you say nothing to spare him the embarrassment. Instead, you allow him to stay there.

Your dragon, your Aemond, will always be safe in your arms.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #my works #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #my kinktober #house of the dragon smut #hotd fic #alicent hightower

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darlingdaisyfarm · 1 month ago

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just a little sneak peek of my Ford x villain!reader fic I’m working on, never felt so excited to share it 🤞🏻😭!!

You glance at him, teasing. "do you know what it feels like," your voice sounds like stardust scattered in the wind. "to be kissed by a galaxy?"

He doesn’t answer, no, he can’t. How could he? He’s mortal. He’s human. Small human. Bound by rules you don’t care to follow. But you, oh, you can bend the stars, twist time, create new worlds and he’s standing there, wide-eyed, in awe of your every move.

You smile dangerously and with a simple flick of your fingers, you send him an air kiss.

At first, it’s light, Ford could state it's just a breeze of a thing, barely there. But then it grows, expands. Stanford feels it before he understands it with that smart brain of his, the weight of a thousand stars pressing against him, not just his lips, but whole body. His knees buckle, his breath catches in his throat. This is more than a kiss, it’s a cosmic storm, an embrace from the universe itself. His lungs burn and he swears he feels galaxies spinning inside him, pulling him in every direction at once, like a star caught in the death grip of a black hole.

He's so lost, but captivated, trying to make sense of it, but he’s drowning in the stars, in the kiss you’ve gifted him.

Warmth of dying suns, the icy of black holes, the crushing weight of entire solar systems — that’s probably how Ford will describe it in his journal. It's everything. Everything. And it’s all you.

You smile, the matter around you shimmering with the light of nebulae, galaxies swirling lazily in the depths of your eyes. You approach him with one hand on your hip. "Too much, Stargazer? or are you just not used to being kissed by eternity?"

"How—" Ford gasps, the words barely escaping him, caught somewhere between desperation and fascinations. "what are you. . . doing to me?" his hand grips the space where air should be, trying to ground himself, but there’s nothing, except for the weight of the universe pressing down on him.

He’s so lost, so he can’t really hold his emotions. Because then, Ford tries to laugh, but it comes out breathless, more like gasps for air, like a man stranded in the vacuum of space. "Is- is this what it feels like for you? Oh god—" he takes a sharp breath, chest heaving as if he's trying to fill his lungs with stars. "its fascinating, i can feel every star, every galaxy, all at once!”

You laugh, knowing exactly what you’ve done to him. "You’re not wrong, but don’t worry about it, Ford. You’re still standing, aren’t you?"

He can't even nod. Yeah, hell, barely, Ford can barely feel his own legs. He’s trying to hold onto his sanity, but it’s hard when the universe itself is pressing into his skin, seeping into his bones, filling every breath with the taste of stars and planets.

"Is this how you see the world?" there’s awe in his voice. "Is this what it’s like to be. . . you?"

"You couldn’t handle what it’s like to be me, Stargazer. But this—" you gesture to the swirling galaxies around you, to the cosmic ballet you command with a snap of your fingers. "This is my gift to you. Just a taste. Consider it a privilege."

Ford’s eyes meet yours and for a moment, despite the overwhelming weight of the cosmos pressing down on him, there’s a spark of that insatiable curiosity in his gaze you’ve always admired in him. That hunger to know, to understand the unknown.

"You’re a lot more dangerous than you let on," Ford smiles. "but I suppose I already knew that, didn’t I?"

You chuckle, stepping back. "Oh, Stargazer," you say, shaking your head with that playful but evil spark in your eyes. "you haven’t seen anything yet."

And he knows that he’s at your mercy. Always has been. Always will be.

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #x reader #stanford pines #ford pines smut #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #ford x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls fanfic #gravity falls smut #gravity falls ford

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lightwing-s · 10 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢𝐢 ; 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: since your last encounter, jason has been living rent free in your head. you didn't want to, you needed more, and more found you in an unexpected way.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 7,6k warnings: yn's dirty thoughts, sex, p in v, language, breast play,

a/n: i got lazy and gave up proof reading (again). i also got too excited and ended up writing a lot more than planned, but hey, i got to watch 'the devil wears prada' to write this, so it's a win!! Hope you enjoy it and see you in chapter four.♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

“And the Blades are offside! Still no score here in Seattle, as the Gotham Blades and the Kraken face off in…” announced the caster excitedly, the game going on without Yn paying a dime of attention.

Sunday blues had gotten to you. Following an unusually chilly summer night, rain came pouring down just as you’d arrived home, covering the entire city in a dome of dullness and melancholy. Laying on your stomach, the living room darkened by the closed blinds, and the game on tv a long forgotten past time, the images of the previous night still loomed in your head.

‘Why did you do it, Yn?’, was the question clouding your mind the entire day. ‘Why did you do it?’

Why did you allow yourself to go to bed with the guy you despised? Why did you have those feelings in the first place? It was confusing. Everything about Jason was confusing. You never liked each other, and yet he’s all sweet and nice to you all of a sudden. He’s taking you to the hospital. He’s making sure you’re not alone. He takes you home, makes you food in the middle of the night. All after being an asshole for the past two months.

Why did he change? When did he change? Was he always like that but you never paid attention to, or was it just a play, a trick he’s trying to pull in your mind? Is he trying to confuse you purposely, trying to play with your mind? He wouldn’t, would he?

It if wasn’t for the knocking on your door, you’d continue to torture yourself for the next few hours. Thoughts of Jason and his fucked up game flooding your mind. You heard the knocking again, groaning loudly, not wanting to leave the warmth of the sofa. But the sweet voice calling your name made you do it.

“Thank god, you’re alive!” Nessie sang, throwing her hands up in the air. Her words did not match her expression, however, painted in the most perfect mix of anger, worry and bad hangover. “Where were you?!” she asked, and you too repeated that same question at her.

“I looked for you all over the party!” you answered exasperated.

“Me too!” she informed. “I looked for you all over and Sammy said he saw you leaving with a guy behind you and that you were pissed drunk. I was fucking worried!”

“Sammy means bullshit,” you angrily replied, storming back to the sofa as you let your neighbor and friend close the door behind her, knowing full well this conversation would last long. You threw yourself on your previous seat, pulling your blanket over your legs and crossing your arms on your chest like a little child.

“So, you didn’t leave with a guy?” she questioned, one eyebrow raised at you and a concerned expression adorning her face. “I swear to God, Yn, and I’m not even religious. If anyone did anything to you, I swear I’ll…”

“We didn’t do anything!” you basically screamed, feeling as if the room conspired against you. You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall out. You’d hoped you would be able to hide it. Leaving it a secret from the world could mean it was never real to begin with.

“So, there was someone?” she kept her eyes on you, sensing there was something more to it. Watching your usual polished self start to crumble into a nervous mess. You wanted to deny, gaslight your way out of this. But Nessie was smart, and she knew you. She could read all your signs and tell instantly none of your words spoke the truth.

There was nothing you could do. You were now on a crossroad where any direction, any ideas, wouldn’t take you anywhere. You had to spill it. “I couldn’t find you and Jason had helped me look…”

“Jason the hot guy you were pining after?” she cut you off, her face suddenly changing from concern to slightly but mild excitement.

“I was not pining after anybody!” you argued, trying once more to clear her mind out of these stupid ideas. “He was helping me look for you, and since you weren’t anywhere to be found he took me to his apartment because he was worried about leaving me alone, okay? He was nice and sweet, but nothing else happened. Nothing!”

Nessie sat silently beside you on the sofa, staring at you blankly while she absorbed all the information you ‘d thrown at her. Under your breath, you prayed she’d stop there, that she’d be satisfied with your answer. Unfortunately, God didn’t hear your prayers. “Nothing?” she whispered, a knowing smirk appearing in her face.

You had to let out a scream, muffling it with a pillow as you did not want anyone else trying to snoop in this mess of a situation. “Nothing,” you tried to argue once again, but her beaming smile and amused expression broke you all over, forcing your eyes to roll out in annoyance. “I basically threw myself on him.”

“Oh my god!” that bitch dared to be amused.

“I couldn’t keep my hand off of him, and we… w-we…” you trailed off, not wanting to finish your sentence, but your friend finished it for you. You fucked.

“Were you drunk?” she asked, a tinge of concern returning to her tone.

“I wish,”

“Was it that bad?” she wondered. “You’re acting like this is the end of the world, but you just had sex with the hot guy you were pining all over. What’s the big deal?”

“I was not pining over him!” you screamed again, and exasperatedly continued. “And what’s the big deal? He’s a biker gym rat who’s probably got no jobs or hobbies outside going to the gym. He’s covered in tattoos and probably uses tons of drugs, and guys like that could never be proper partners and will always lead you to trouble.”

“Gosh, you were planning your wedding then?” she blankly responded.

“What the fuck? No!” you were getting progressively irritated. It sounded that, to her, this all didn’t pass as more than a simple joke, not seeing the serious issue within it. “He’s just not the kind of guy I’d like to see myself mixed with. My parents warned me a-about guys like this…”

“Oh! So, this is about your parents then?” Nessie concluded, missing the point once more.

“It’s not about them!” you shook your head. You tried to come up with something, to continue your statement, but your mouth opened and closed without anything coming out of it. Sighing deeply, you felt your energy levels start to drain. “This always happens.”

Thinking back at countless similar situations, you watched your friend’s eyes turn softer. An awaiting glint in her eyes for the story to continue. “Every time I get upset over them, when they make me mad, I just… Explode? I go out and do something stupid, something that I know would piss them off, because…”

“You want them to explode?” she cut you, more an assumption than a question. “You want them to be just as mad at you?”

Combing your fingers through your hair, you stop and wonder. You let her words sink in, a lightness over being finally understood and finally understanding yourself overcoming you. It often scares you how well she knew and understood you with just a couple years of knowing each other, but maybe that was just the three semesters of Psychology lessons speaking.

“I always end up doing something stupid that I shouldn’t have done,” your voice softened a reply.

“So, you’re saying your parents were right, then?” she inquired once more.

“That’s not it, Nessie, I-I…” you stammered. “Oh my god, please let’s move on from this subject.”

By this point, you’d already messed up your hair from how much you had nervously combed your fingers through it. There was a small lump forming on your throat, and your hands were clasped on your face, shielding your eyes from your surroundings.

“So…” Nessie started. “Was he good?” Your head snapped quickly in her direction, eyes wanting to scold her but smile failing to do the same. Failing to hold corners of your lips, you allowed the smile to spread and rolled your eyes at her apparent enjoyment. “Was he big?”

You let out a snort at the inappropriate question, but filled her in. Mouthing a ‘thick’ back at her, she let her mouth hang open, closing her eyes in deep dirty wonder. ‘How much?’ she mouthed in return, and you scanned the room for something that could resemble his majestic girth, deciding upon signaling by holding your ankles with both your hands. Perhaps an exaggeration, but you’d let her sleep with that “lie” in mind.

Her mouth formed an ‘oh’, shocked at your response, and you could swear that just thinking about it was making you a little bit wet. You proudly nodded at her, perhaps too proud of it now. Proud of the incredible achievement of taking it all in.

“How big?” she bobbed one eyebrow up, challenging. You gave her a demonstration, placing your closed fists on top of each other. He wasn’t the biggest, but he compensated with girth. Gosh, stop thinking about him! “Lucky girl.”

“You wish,” you laughed.

“I definitely do now.”

It had been almost three weeks since you’d last seen him. Rearranging your entire schedule, you organized your new routine with the sole purpose of avoiding him at all costs. From the months you’d met him almost daily at the gym, you’d come to know what times he liked to train at: very early mornings, the start of the evening or just as the gym was about to close. Thus, making the process of building up a new schedule a lot easier.

Sure, it might’ve been a stretch to go this far to avoid him. And maybe your new routine was kind of terrible and actually sort of hindered your days. But those were measures you needed to take in order to keep yourself sane. You didn’t know what you’d do if you saw him again.

In fact, your days seemed to have gotten longer, as you spent more hours in traffic. However, the lack of Jason in your daily life seemed to have increased your happiness and tranquility. You didn’t have to worry about him being around you, ready to drop something on you at any moment. And living without his often sarcastic and teasing remarks was so less stressful. It felt like, for once, you could live your life without a shadow haunting your days.

Life at work was also simpler. Since your boss had decided that the American dating scene wasn’t for her, and instead started looking for a husband at different European social gatherings, she had been out quite often, spending her weekends away in Monaco, Paris or Milan, and missing many work days.

That left you with more time to write. It has always been your favorite thing to do, writing away your thoughts on a paper, even if it never made it out of your notebook.

Ideally, you wouldn’t be working as an assistant. But that was the best you could do after graduation, having to find a job quickly before your father dragged you out of Gotham definitely. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but it allowed you to keep in touch with the area you desired to work on. Even better, you got to watch the life of an editor in chief right in front of your eyes.

It was the middle of the week, the day passing by slowly as you walked left to right through different rooms and floors to get whatever your boss needed done before today’s shoot. With summer approaching its end, ideas for the upcoming fall issues were thrown around, and now Sandra, your boss, was dead set that she needed at least something done by the end of the week.

Packing up your things and throwing them into your messenger bag, you hurriedly walked out from behind your desk right as Sandra was passing by. Following her footsteps, you two made your way out of the tall and imposing building of Wayne Publications.

“Did you get the samples I asked for yesterday?” she questioned, head glued forward, not moving to look at you.

“Yes, I do in fact,” you replied, handing her the thin deep blue sketchbook. “I made a collage for each designer with the pictures, just as you’d asked. Gio Waters had given me some when I interviewed her, and Nadia and her sister emailed me their looks this morning.”

You explained the process as you two continued to walk, people moving away from the infamous Runway Magazine’s editor in chief. “The collection isn’t finished, but it’s really interesting, I think you’ll like it. Everything is in there. A-and… Arkham’s Neglect…”

“Arkham’s Neglect?” she wondered out loud, facing moving slightly to show you the corners of a raised eyebrow.

“They’re this 80’s punk, anarchist, counter culture, all of… that, inspired new brand. They think the name sets forward the message they want to spread,” you explained the unusual group you sure found interesting while interviewing.

“And that message is…?” she prolonged her question.

“Only God knows,” you exhaled. Stopping in front of the building, where a lavish black car was parked awaiting her entrance, she finally turned back to face you.

“Yn,” she called you softly. “If you want me to take your idea seriously, you have to make more effort than this.” The clicking sound of her heels ceased as she entered the car, the door left open for you to close and circle around the vehicle to enter from the other side.

Working for Sandra was like working for Miranda Priestly, only it was actually nice. It’d started working for her even before you graduated college, and although very… honest with her words, she was always kind enough to at least listen to your ideas once in a while.

So hearing that feedback from her was kind of heart shattering. She had finally given you an opportunity to write something, not just carry her things around and take her meeting notes. Write. And you had been working harder than ever in it, using all of your free time on preparing, planning and writing it.

The car ride was quiet for a while, as you tried to free your mind from the self doubt she’d cast upon you. Sandra typed rapidly on her phone, and by the smile on her face you knew she must have been texting her new Italian boyfriend. So, you waited till she was done typing, eyes leaving the screen to resume your talking.

“Ibra messaged earlier saying everyone was ready and waiting at the studio. Stephanie, the photographer Mr. Wayne recommended, was already set. He said they are ready to start as soon as we get there,” you finished with a gulp, and knowing you well, Sandra turned to look at you.

“And what?” she questioned, voice monotone.

“One of the male models bailed out last minute, ” you informed, her fingers snapping to pinch the bridge of her nose. “He said they were trying to find him.”

“Or a replacement,” she cut you off.

“A replacement, of course.”

Sandra simply nodded in response, and resumed her incessant typing. You prayed she wasn’t sexting with the guy again, and to avoid another embarrassment, focused your eyes on the damp streets of Gotham. Grabbing your phone, you messaged one of the other assistants at the studio to let them know you’d need to find someone else to fill the empty spot.

As you made your way to the glass doors of the studio, you watched the people inside frantically move around, readying themselves for the grand arrival of Sandra Bevilaqua. Upon setting her Louboutin clad feet in the room, they all stopped. The Sandra effect.

“Ibra!” she called out for her favorite art director, and a tall and slender man came out from behind a white set of curtains and walked to her, giving her a quick embrace before turning to you with a brief acknowledgement.

Then, Ibra and Sandra stepped away from you, deep in discussion about the photoshoot at hand, and you took that as your cue to stay back and have a small break after the incessant running being Sandra’s assistant took. You needed coffee anyway.

You scanned the room looking for the small table that usually contained tons of cups filled with nectar of the gods to the brim. Warm and delicious. Finding the table just in a corner, close to the industrial style floor to ceiling windows. By the table stood a girl not much younger than you, camera in hand, and stealing a few snacks that were also placed on it.

“They got this Brazilian thing, they call it coxinha, I think. You should try that one, they’re really good” you suggested, taking a large cup that had ‘macchiato’ written on it as she turned to see you, a beaming smile on her face.

“I already got some of them,” she laughed, pointing to the napkin tucked inside her jacked pocket filled with those little snacks, and you had to let out a giggle too.

While she continued her nibbling and picking at the snacks on offer, you distracted yourself with the not unusual studio, a place you’d come to know now fairly well since starting to work at Runway. A few models recognized you too, waving hello and moving on with their preparations.

Being part of this world was quite insane, to be honest. You grew up having to hide your magazines under your bed because according to your religious parents it taught young girls to be “depraved” and “promiscuous” and not “wife material”. When you got the opportunity to work for them, you had to lie, and you still did, telling your parents you worked for Gotham Times instead.

You were too lost in thinking, watching the traffic move down the street, that you forgot you still had some work to do.

“Yn,” one of the other assistants ran to you. “Have you found the replacement?”

“I told you to find it!” you whisper-screamed, not wanting people to know you still had problems in your hand.

“I thought you would do it. You said…”

“Find a new model,” you repeated your text harshly at her.

��I-I thought y-you just sent it to me to remember to do it later,” she told you. Fucking stupid girl, you wanted to scream out, because you had something around ten minutes to start the shoot and one model still missing. But you were once in her spot, and you knew how upset she’d get after.

So you took your coffee and planned to walk out of the room in search of a model, even if you had to beg people on the street to do it. However, you didn’t count on someone blocking your way out, nearly causing you to drop your coffee if he wasn’t fast enough to hold the cup for you.

“Careful there,” he smiled, but your face turned to a frown as soon as you recognized the dark hair and the sky blue eyes. “Hello, love. Didn’t let it spill on you this time,” Jason winked, trying to initiate a conversation, a smugness set on his face.

Rolling your eyes, you removed your cup out of his grip, and bumping on his shoulder, walked away. Beelining to the corridor, you pulled your phone out and proceeded to search for the several phone numbers you’d be calling for the next few minutes. As you tried to think of what to say, rehearsing the words in your head, the blue eyed man would flock in instead, slowing your work down tremendously. But you had bigger problems to solve.

As you had anticipated, for the past ten minutes you had your phone glued to your ear, having called dozens of different modeling agencies begging them to send you someone, something, to save you. However, the best they could give you was “We can try, but it’s too last minute”. Well, fuck them. Now, you were about to run into the streets and start begging people to model for a fashion magazine.

“Yn!” you heard the soft yet powerful voice of your boss calling. Running back inside, you spotted her chatting with Ibra in the middle of the room. “Have you found a replacement?” she asked as soon as you arrived beside her.

“Errm… The agencies said it’s too last minute to find someone,” you offered, already awaiting reprimand.

“How come… How are we supposed to start the shoot then? Ibra!” she called Ibrahim again, words starting to just jump out of her mouth, something she rarely did, but that only happened when she was truly exasperated.

“We can start shooting the other models until Yn…” here it comes. “... finds someone else to fill the spot, yah?” he looked at you, eyes begging you to comply, and you did so, nodding incessantly as Sandra smiled away, happy with the option presented by the art director.

With a deep breath, you took another look around, tried to find something to distract yourself for just a moment. Mind working at a high voltage, you felt like you needed to decelerate, to take one, two, three breaths till your mind could start working again. The stressful situation making you instantly uneasy.

Your distraction came in the form of the raven haired demon, chatting happily with the blonde photographer you’d spoken to earlier. It then came to you dozens of questions about that situation. Why was Jason here in the first place? You’d only ever found him at the gym and at parties, and you honestly didn’t know what the hell he did for work, but he certainly didn’t work at anything related to this. This was your job, you knew everybody. He was never around before, unless…

Unless he knew the photographer.

She was beautiful. Long blond hair, eyes as blue as his, and an enchanting smile even you couldn’t deny. Were they together? She did seem a lot younger, but it’d be just like the type of guy he is to go after fresh, young babes. Urg. You hated him. Were you one of his young babes? Were just a dumb little fuck?

Urg. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. Instead, you opted for burning holes in his head with your eyes, glued to the scene ahead of you. He was laughing, laughing, with her, like you were all a joke. If everything was… Stop, Yn. You won’t get mad at him. You won’t. But the ache in your heart told you otherwise.

“Yn?” Sandra snapped her fingers before your eyes, breaking you from your trance. “What are you doing? Have you figured it out already?”

“Hmmm… I’m still thinking,” you gave a half-assed reply. Your eyes lingered from her to the boy stuck in your head. And she must have been following your gaze, because her own head snapped to the two inappropriate flirts chit chatting on the corner. A bright smile forming on her red lips.

“Perfect,” she stated softly and took one step in their direction.

“Wait, no!” you screamed, pulling at her arm. “Jason isn’t a good idea.”

“You know him?” before you had the chance to fix your mess, she continued. “Have you seen him naked?”

You almost choked at her question, and could bet a million dollars your face must’ve turned red. “W-why would you think that? I don’t know him.” you lied, and she clearly saw through you, offering you a look adorned by her frowned eyebrows.

“You just told me his name, Yn. We’ll be needing him to pose shirtless for the shoot. We are, after all, doing a “Sculpted Bodies” issue. And he looks to be pretty muscular.” Taking her glasses from where they stood hooked to her neckline, she placed it on her nose to take a better look at the man in question, returning her walk in his direction. “Don’t tug at my arm again, you’re not my child and call Ibra to find this man a new outfit. Hey, you?”

She screamed, and like a magnet, all eyes were on the scene.

“Jason, isn’t it? Yn here told. We are in need of a new male model, would you go back there and change?” she let him no, offering him no other option.

“Jason can’t,” you tried to argue, and his eyes snapped to your frame.

“Why not?” he asked, smugness still prevailing on the way he talked to you. “I’d love to.”

“That would be an awesome idea,” the blonde photographer chimed in.

“Of course you think so,” you gave her a forced smile, holding yourself together to not roll your eyes in front of your boss. “He has work.”

“I do not,” he scoffed, looking you straight in the eyes.

“Perfect!” Sandra clapped. “Ibra honey, find this beautiful piece of man a new outfit.”

Turning around, Sandra walked away, the blonde photographer you didn’t even care to remember the name following suit, swaying her hips as she strolled on the wooden floor. Moving your face, you found Jason’s eyes still lingering on your, a dark smirk plastered on his face.

“Please, don’t,” you asked, almost begging if you weren’t too proud.

“Why?” his question was filled with amusement. “Your boss said it herself. I’m perfect.

“You’re ruining my day,” you hissed through gritted teeth. In an attempt to look intimidating, your closed wrists rested on your waist, but there was no way you could ever frighten Jason.

“Why? Can’t stand the sight of me for too long, love?” he now whispered dangerously close to your face. Hoarse voice making you shiver. “Didn’t think I’d noticed you avoiding me at the gym?”

“Someone here is paying a lot of attention to me, it seems,” you hit him back. You prayed no one around noticed your interaction, because they would see clearly that there was something going on between you two.

“I wasn’t the one staring, was I?” he deadpanned. If any of you moved an inch, your noses would be touching, and probably much else would follow. Gathering all your strength, you pulled back.

“Fuck you,” you whispered before moving away.

“Already did,” he bit back a smile, walking past you towards Ibrahim to go and get changed. His own hip swaying left to right as he walked, the movement hypnotizing you as he went.

Soon enough, all models were positioned on stage, barely sporting any clothes bar some thin skin toned underwear, transparent fabrics or one single piece of garment. Jason, in all his glory and toned chest, wore a pair of white boxer underwear that left evident the not so little friend he owned down there.

One makeup artist had bathed his chest with some kind of oil, sliding her dark blue nails over his entire torso. In clear fuck boy behaviour, a shadow of a smile loomed his face when he looked at her through his lashes. You felt a muscle on your jaw jolting at the interaction, deciding that you’d had enough, and would be much better off attending to something else.

You tried the coffee table, but not even a sweet macchiato could clear your mind of the man you fucked and wished would desintegrate. Through the corner of your eye, you dared to steal one more look at him, only to find his eyes already set on you. Even from afar, you noticed them darkening, changing their essence to something that left you uneasy. In desperate need of air.

Truth be told, this man rented a four story penthouse with three hundred bedrooms in your mind since the night you’d slept over at his. Occupying a space that once was free to help you function properly, but now, you were a horny mess 90% of the day. Yes, you touched yourself to his picture lingering in your memory countless times since that day. And each one of them made you feel better than the other.

However, none of them had you feeling as good as he had made you feel that night. None of them had his touches to drive you wild, or gave you the feel of his tongue on your nipples. None of them whispered dirty things in your ear. But more specifically, none of them made you come as much as he did in just one night.

Shaking those thoughts away, you averted your eyes from his and sat down on a puffer chair, watching the photoshoot with an empty head. The group shot was done, as Stephanie, as you remembered, dismissed the other models to start on the individual shots. And to no surprise of yours, she had Jason shoot first.

He posed and flexed his muscles to her loud cheers and claps, letting out laughs and hypnotizing smiles you found yourself hooked to. Their partnership was evident, as Jason understood her words and requests promptly, and you had to admit she seemed to know just which angles and positions he’d look hotter.

Sandra and Ibra watched the little show just attentively as you did, but you were sure the thoughts in your head never crossed theirs. Giving short jumps, and faking boxing punches, he turned the playful shoot into something more intense. His eyes, eyebrows and his whole demeanor change drastically, to now exuberate this dense, dark, sensual, almost pornographic, aura.

He lowered the hem of his underwear a bit, showing you the trail that had driven you crazy the last time you peered at it. Now, it was on full display to you, and you had to bite down at your lip to hold in the moan you wanted to let out. He turned around, showing you his back, with his side profile setting up what you already thought would be the perfect picture. You wondered if any of your marks could be seen on his back, if Stephanie could see them from up close.

Your breathing hitched, and you had to cross your legs and feel just a bit of friction there to pull yourself back together.

The music in the studio shifted. The dark, sexy tunes of The Weeknd turned into the more upbeat pop rock sound of SZA’s F2F, a surprise to you, given the feel and themes of the photoshoot, but something that totally spoke to you in this moment of your life.

You couldn’t take him out of your mind, you thought of him until you fell asleep. You wondered if he planned on making Stephanie the girl for tonight. Or worse, if he’d already done it, done her. It had been a while since that night, he wouldn’t take that long to find someone else to fuck like he did to you. Fuck like he fucked you.

The thought made you feel nauseous.

Just as the next line began, the sudden realization of your feelings hit you like a train. The need to be slammed against a wall, picked up and fucked like you would never need your legs again, justified by the light blue shade indicating your ovulating period on your tracker app. That explained everything, you thought, finding the only possible way you could ever be this crazy about a man.

When Miss SZA said ‘Now I’m ovulating and I need rough -’, that was it. No truer words were ever spoken. Just his presence was enough to make your thoughts incoherent, but having him doing all those poses and stares was driving you insane. Oh, how it sucked to be a woman in heat!

You didn’t realize you bit your lips until the silvery taste of blood hit your tongue, and you averted your eyes from him to instead stare at your own nails. Afraid that if your eyes lingered on him for much longer, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself.

When Stephanie’s voice trapped your attention to something the distance didn’t let you decipher, you felt a tightness in your chest. A weird feeling of fear, anxiety and desire mix together, as Jason refocused his sight on you, walking slowly in your direction. His man tits bounced as he walked, perfectly muscled, and perfectly fit for the photoshoot.

Where were you with your head, you thought. There was no way Sandra would have ever listened to your nonsensical words, he was clearly perfect for that. His body was perfectly sculpted, as if he was handmade by Michelangelo himself, and perfectly decorated by his countless tattoos.

You assessed him. Up and down. Every inch, every single detail. Eyes lingering longer than you should, as he walked to you slowly. His eyes darker than you remembered, the bright blue turning deep. His body moved light, lighter than a feather it seemed, as if he glided instead of walk. Everything in him screamed godlike, and you licked your lips as your mouth seemed to dry. Still focused on you, he licked his own lip, making you feel…

Yn. What are you doing?

Breaking away from your thoughts, your eyes widened from the realization of what your mind was doing to you, rushing away from your. Out of the room, out of the building, out of here. You felt your heart race, speeding faster than a Formula 1 car. The air trapped in your lungs, making it harder to breath.

“Ouch,” you heard someone complain from behind you, as you closed the door without looking and sprinted towards one of the corridors. “Yn!” you heard his voice call, but you could not stop. Fuck, why is he here?

Taking a corner, you found a door leading to some outside area when Jason’s grip stopped you from taking any step further.

“What the fuck did I do to you?” he questioned bitterly. You had to roll your eyes at that. What haven’t you done?

You tried to remove yourself from his grip, but he was insistent. “What the fuck did you do to me?” you laughed sarcastically, finding amusement at his clueless question. “God you’re fucking infuriating.”

Turning around, you forced his hold off, but you were playing yourself if you ever thought you could fight him. You basically dragged him along, but in reality he didn’t move an inch. He was heavier and stronger than any weights you pulled at the gym.

“Oh, you leave my apartment like a mad woman. Did everything so you wouldn’t have to face me for weeks and tried to sabotage a job opportunity, and I am the one who’s infuriating?” he spat out. His face getting red from anger.

“Haha, you were not even supposed to be here!” you spat in return.

“Oh, so am I not supposed to support my little sister?” he inquired. You went quiet.

His sister. His fucking sister. How stupid were you. “You’re ruining my job,” you tried to find an argument. Something to fight him back.

“I saved your job right there!” His eyes grew large, burning into yours. He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t particularly right.

“Let me go! You’re hurting me,” you nearly cried out, wanting to flee this situation desperately. He let you go, and in his eyes, for the brief moment you dared to look in them, you found a shadow of guilt.

With heavy footsteps, you made a beeline to the door, feeling the lump on your throat tightening.

“You can’t take that night off your head too, can you?” he voiced, and you had to stop. He was thinking of it too, all this time. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself down. Swans, rainbows, blue ice cream, new skin care products. Anything good thoughts to take him, this, out of your brain.

“You’ve been thinking of it all day. All night,” he continued, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You felt him behind you, a looming shadow above your small frame. “My lips on your neck. Your nipples,” he said, fingertips gracing your exposed arms. “My fingers inside you.”

Your eyes were closed. Picturing every scene, every word that left his mouth. He was right, you couldn’t shake him off your mind, but so couldn’t he. He was just as much stuck on it as you. You was just as much in his mind and he was in yours. Just as pathetic.

You felt his breath touch the skin on your neck, and his fingers pulling your hair out of your shoulders. “Me ripping you apart,” he whispered, voice carrying so much lust you had a hard time holding up.

You didn’t.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you noticed his heavy breathing. His oily chest rising and falling, almost touching your back. So close you felt the bulge in his underwear sliding against your bum. Beside you, you found a door.

Then, you made a promise. If the door was locked, you would leave him there, you would not look back. You’d forget everything and anything about Jason. However, if it was open…

It was. Opening into a small and empty room, you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. And then, looking at him from over your shoulder, you begged for confirmation. You begged him to say he felt it too. That he needed it too.

Bobbing his head to the side, he motioned towards the opened room, telling you to get in. You did.

As soon as Jason closed the door behind him, you pushed him against the wall, frantically searching for his lips and finding it in a desperate, needy kiss. You needed him, you were starving for him. You needed his lips, you needed the air in his lungs. His breath, his warmth, his hands all over your body. You needed every single piece of him he had to offer, because he’d been in your head all week long, making you mad, deconcentrated, a mess. And he needed to pay for all that.

Spinning you two around, Jason had you pinned against the wall. Your legs didn’t waste time before wrapping around his waist, and it took him no effort to find a place for his hands on your ass, holding you up and close. You kissed ferociously, hungrily. Your tongues battled each other, struggling for power. Your fingers at the nape of his neck tugged at the hairs and he moaned inside your lips. Just like the last time.

But unlike last time, you did not have time to waste.

Pulling his dick out of his underwear, you let your legs go from his waist to take off your jeans. “Someone is eager,” he joked.

“Shut up!” you snapped, bringing him back for another deep kiss. He stroked his penis and you could feel his hands moving close to your belly. Your naked ass hit the cold stone wall, and your body jolted a little. Pulling at your waist, Jason had you bent over a desk in no time.

He tickled your folds with his head, but your hands on his wrist told him you were not playing today. He slammed inside of you with no second thoughts, and you almost let out a scream if it wasn’t for his mouth slapping on your lips. You felt your insides burn, his girth ripping you open as he slammed his dick in and out of you with speed. His calloused hand smacked against the soft skin of your ass, letting out a loud sound around the room. You nearly cried, body shaking as the skin burned where he had hit.

The smell of sex filled the room, as the sound of him hammering against your juices echoed on the walls. Jason started grunting behind you, his throat releasing feral sounds that had you hitting your high in less than a minute. Not much later, you felt the warmth of Jason’s seed filling you up, and your mind freaked out for a brief moment before it was clouded again once he forcefully turned you around and tackled you in another kiss.

Sitting on the desk, you brought him closer by his penis, pulling it in yourself and starting to grind against his crotch. Jason let a laugh vibrate through your body, mouths still tangled together, holding tightly at your thighs and thrusting hard inside of you. He slid a hand inside your shirt, taking one of your breasts out of your bra and pressing it so hard a tear formed in your eye.

Whatever the hell you two were doing now felt incredible. Your mind was starting to go numb again, and the tightness you’d feel minutes earlier had already returned. You let out a few cries in Jason’s mouth, as his teeth picked at your bottom lip, making sure you’d leave here with them red and swollen.

He didn’t care if anyone notice you’d just fuck. He wanted to parade it around. The thought of everyone knowing he had you all fuck over in an empty room making his release shoot within you once again. However, he didn’t stop until he felt you wall clenching around him, milking all he had left as your own milk slid through your legs.

As you tried to steady your breath, Jason left pecks on your lips, cheeks, and eyes. God damn it, he loved your fucked out face, he loved you post sex glow. He loved…

You search for his lips. They were warm, and without them you felt cold. You felt him moving out of you, and the emptiness afterwards. He resumed his little pecks on your lips after he’d put his penis back inside his underwear, handing you yours to put back on. You took them, but instead of putting them on, let it hand over his shoulders and you pulled him into a deeper kiss.

This one, though, was passionate. Slow, careful. It made your stomach spin, and the butterflies get busy in your core. It was good, and you wanted to be in it forever. You wanted to…

No! A voice screamed in your head, and you pushed him away immediately. You do not have feelings for Jason. You do not.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jason asked, a hand on his lower lips taking you to the bite you’d just given it.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” you screamed exasperated, putting your pants back on. “You are what’s wrong with me, Jason. You!”

“Me?! You’re the one who threw yourself on me,” he threw his hands up in defeat.

“After you kept putting things in my head…”

“Me? I keep… What the fuck do you have in that fucking head?” he cut you before losing his temper. You were truly something incredible.

“A brain. Something you lack, perhaps,” you replied harshly. “You keep making me do these stupid things.”

“I didn’t make you do anything, you know it well,” he stated, hands hanging on his hips, looking at you as if you'd just gone mad. Perhaps you really had. “Stop acting like an innocent little angel, because you’re nothing of it. Nothing!”

You let your mouth hang open, flabbergasted that he dared to say something like that. You know you were no angel, but he was completely missing the point. “That’s not it!”

“And what is it then?” he inquired, anger painting his face red once more.

“You’re just a fuck boy,” you screamed and he stopped in his tracks. “If you think I’d waste my fucking time in a lowlife like you, you’re just fucking wrong!” you spat out. The words had left your mouth before you could properly think of them, emotions taking over your thinking process. But they were out, and they hurt Jason more than he’d like to admit. It felt like something broke inside his chest, the shattered glass of what once was his heart.

“You’re the one who acts like a stupid spoiled bitch,” he returned, soon regretting it. Your eyes filled with water, and some tears fled without your consent. Those were the words that hurt you the most to hear. Not because they were new, but because you’d been told that countless times, to the point you actually believed it.

Opening the door with rage, you ran out of the room and stomped your way outside of the building. A single tear sliding down your face, the effort you put to keep the others in taking inimaginable strength.

When you got to the reception, the other assistant from earlier noticed you coming her way. “Yn,” she called worriedly.

“Tell Sandra I’m heading out. I’m feeling sick.”

The cold wind welcomed you outside, forgetting everything you’d left in the studio to head home. You wanted to fall to the ground, curl up in a ball and cry your eyes out. Never have you felt this upset and frustrated. And it wasn’t even Jason’s fault. So you arrived home, threw yourself on the sofa, and allowed the tears to fall.

A single tear fell from your eye as you stared blankly at your bathroom door. You were curled up on the floor, hugging your knees against your chest, waiting for those damned three minutes to be over.

You were late. Weeks late. And anxious thoughts were starting to take over. You would be fucked. Your parents would kill you. It would ruin everything. You were too young, and you were just starting your career. It just can’t be happening. There was no way you could do it on your own. That was not part of the plan.

The lump in your throat only got tighter. Counting the seconds desperately, you missed the count dozens of times, but you were sure the wait was now over.

Forcing yourself to stand up, you take slow steps to your sink. Getting the white and blue stick in your trembling hands, you couldn’t bring yourself to look. Too afraid of the reality it could bring you.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Red eyes, puffy cheeks. You don’t even remember brushing your hair today. Taking a deep, prolonged breath, you take a look down. The eight letters showing on screen scaring you shitless.

Pregnant.

Oh, fuck!

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1arkspur-aconitum · 1 month ago

Text

WHAT ELYSIUM HAVE YOU KNOWN? (s.r.)

SOULS OF POETS DEAD AND GONE, WHAT ELYSIUM HAVE YOU KNOWN?

[PART THREE OF THREE]

IN WHICH: Spencer discovers just how fun her previous profession can be, and cannot wait to get her back to the hotel...

PAIRING: Season3!SpencerReid/Fem!BAU!OC

CATEGORY: Smut (18+, NSFW)

CONTENT: Swearing, established secret relationship, lap dance, Spencer being an awkward fucking nerd, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (wear a condom kids), fact-fucking, desperate, less experienced Spencer

WORD COUNT: 10k...(my god, that's a lot of words)

PUBLISHED: 16/10/2024

‘Alright.’ I say as I lock the door behind us, pulling the small blind across the window to ensure our privacy. No one is going to be walking in on us anytime soon. ‘Here we are.’

The room is dimly lit by a single, flickering red bulb, casting the entire space in a deep, sultry glow. A raised platform dominates the right side of the room, a glistening chrome pole standing to attention in the centre, and an entire wall of mirrors reflecting the stage behind it. Aimed at the platform is a well worn two-person leather sofa, the material cracked around the seams.

The air is thick with the scent of stale cigarette smoke and perfume. It’s a far cry from the sterile halls of Quantico, but there’s a strange sense of familiarity that washes over me as I take it all in. I’ve been here so many times that I’m suddenly twenty one again.

I turn to look at Spencer, tucking the key on top of the door jamb. He’s standing awkwardly where I left him, his eyes darting around the room as he takes in every little detail with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. I can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he processes this unfamiliar environment.

His glasses magnify his wide eyes, only making him look even more like a rabbit caught in truck headlights, unsure of what to do or where to go. He’s so out of his element, it’s adorable.

It also breaks my heart a little.

‘Come on.’ I murmur, taking his hand and guiding him towards the sofa. Spencer follows willingly, his fingers tightening around mine as if he never wants to let go. I push Spencer to sit on the sofa, settling myself down next to him. ‘You need to calm down, sweetheart.’

‘I…I don’t know what to do…’ He says, voice barely above a whisper. The room is quiet, expectant. It hangs as heavy as cigarette smoke. When he looks at me, I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Spencer nearly always knows what to do. It comforts him. Yet here, he is so out of his depth that he’s at a loss. It must be terrifying. Spencer looks down.

‘That’s alright. You’re okay. You don’t have to do anything.’ I take a sip of my drink, the pinkish liquid catching the dim light, and watch him watch the floor. ‘It’s me, Spencer. I get that everything’s kinda scary, but I’m not, am I?’

He mumbles something, shuffling his feet on the carpet.

‘Spencer?’

‘Sometimes you can be scary…’ He says, a little bit louder this time, but there’s a small smile playing on his lips. I laugh, rolling my eyes at him. He’s not exactly wrong.

‘Okay, so I’m kind of scary, but I’m still me. You trust me?’

‘Of course.’ He says it so quickly that it’s all I can do not to smother him with kisses immediately. Spencer doubletakes when he sees me watching, catching something in my gaze that I didn’t know was there. He smiles privately–adorably. ‘I trust you. I’m just…this is all new to me.’

‘Well, it’s not new to me.’ I remind him, taking another sip of my drink. The alcohol burns. Spencer does the same, eyebrows tensing for a second as whatever is in his glass scours down his throat. I lean towards him, resting my free hand on his elbow. ‘Part of this job is profiling. It’s…learning how to make people comfortable. If you want to stop at any point, just say. I want this to be good for you, Spence.’

‘I know, I know.’ He forces himself to take a deep breath, clearly trying to force away any unwanted anxiety. When his eyes meet mine, there’s a determination I didn’t see there before. ‘And it will be good, because it’s you.’

I smile, my heart melting at his words, and reach out to pull him towards me. We kiss, and it’s tender, gentle, if a little bit sticky from our drinks. Another layer of tension leaves him as he hums into the kiss. Before he can get too carried away, I pull back, smoothing a hand casually down his chest. It’s an intentional move, one I’ve done so many times, and it works. He relaxes a little more.

‘I’m going to put some music on, would you like another drink?’ I ask, gesturing to the small mini-fridge tucked away in the darkest corner.

‘I…yes, please.’ Spencer decides.

I press a kiss to his cheek before sauntering over to the mini fridge. When I bend over to grab him a beer, I make sure he has an excellent view of my arse. Spencer’s bottom lip is between his teeth when I turn around. Hook, line, and sinker.

With a wicked grin, I open the drink and pass it to him, but I don’t take the seat next to him again. Instead, I quickly set up the sound system (thank God they haven’t updated it) and soon enough the slow, rhythmic sounds of my playlist fill the room. The music is heady, ethereal, and I feel as if we should be listening to them through a screen of smoke.

‘You need to relax, sweetheart.’ I pad back over to him. He’s sitting ramrod straight on the sofa, gripping the neck of the bottle as if it might sprout legs and run away from him.

I sit next to him and gently push his shoulders back onto the sofa. Once he’s settled, I curve myself around him, draping my arm across the back so that my fingers can softly, idly, thread through his hair. The skirt of my dress slips back even further when I cross my legs. My free hand starts to trace light circles on his thigh.

‘I’m trying.’ He sighs, turning pitiful eyes on me.

I debate for a second, settling in closer to him, running a tantalising finger up and down his leg. His body stiffens for a second before relaxing into the touch.

‘Tell me a fact I don’t know about space.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘You want a space fact…now?’

‘You always feel more comfortable when you’re telling me facts, so indulge me.’

‘I…Space is a very broad topic…’

‘Alright, tell me a fact about Jupiter—it is my favourite planet, after all.’

‘You have a favourite planet?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I…no…?’ Spencer gives me an incredulous look, his glasses only making it doubly attractive, but I am unrelenting. He sighs, leaning his head back against the sofa, and pursing his lips. ‘Uh…alright, alright–did you know Jupiter’s third largest moon, Io, is the most volcanically active body in the solar system?’

I didn’t know that. ‘Really? How so?’

‘It has over 400 active volcanoes on its surface.’ Spencer explains, voice gaining in enthusiasm. ‘It’s part of the reason why it’s coloured the way it is, all of the sulphur and gases the volcanoes eject ends up coating the surface, giving it that distinctive yellowish-red colour. The volcanoes also produce a large gas cloud around the moon itself, meaning that it’s highly radioactive–it gives off about 3,600 rem of radiation a day, and the average lethal dose is only 400-500…I think that’s pretty cool.’

‘I think it’s cool too, Spence.’ I half-smile, still casually running my fingers through his impossibly soft hair. My plan worked. Obviously. Spencer has lost a lot of the tension from his shoulders, even leaning his head further into my hand like a cat who’s being scratched in just the right spot. ‘Alright…so, do any other moons of Jupiter have volcanoes?’

‘No, actually, not that we know. Jupiter has a ridiculous amount of moons–95 officially recognised moons, though the smallest of which only has a diameter of 1.2 miles.’

‘Oh, really, that small, huh?’ I murmur, leaning in a little closer, watching his hands dance in the space before us. I’m proud of myself for getting him to open up. Spencer always wants to share his knowledge. It lights him up, makes him seem the most at ease. I wonder if he even remembers where he is right now.

I’m close enough to him that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Spencer’s eyes flicker up to mine and I can’t see any trace of that nervous energy he had in them before. Taking a risk, I let the hand in his hair slowly drift down to his jaw, my callused fingertips softened by his warm skin. I trace a small heart into his cheek. His eyes flutter shut briefly.

‘I never get bored around you.’ I say, voice raw with emotion. He looks at me with a softness that threatens to make my stomach twist, mouth slightly parted. My thumb stills. I can see the flecks of amber in his eyes, the soft shade of his lashes. ‘I’m always learning. You’re so smart.’

‘I just…I just know a lot of things.’ His eyes drop to my mouth, before flickering away. ‘It’s what I do.’

‘And you do it so well.’

I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, tasting the remnants of his drink. Spencer groans against me, a hand falling to my knee and pulling. He wants me in his lap as he kisses me, lips parting eagerly before his tongue swoops in. I don’t let him pull me where he wants me. Not yet.

Instead, I lean back a little, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. For a moment we simply sit there, wrapped in each other, the music swirling around us. The world aside begins to fade away.

But I have a job to do.

I break the kiss gently. Spencer grumbles and tries to recapture my lips, but I insist. He looks at me with a question in his eyes, and I answer with a glimmer of mischief in my own.

‘I think it’s time I earn my keep, don’t you?’ I purr, my voice low and seductive. Flirtatiously, I carefully straighten his tie. Push his glasses up his nose.

Spencer’s eyes widen as if he’s just seen me strip naked in the middle of the bullpen, as if he’s only just remembered that we’re sitting on a sofa in the private room of a strip club. The fear quickly dissipates into excitement, though, and it bolsters my courage. Spencer’s Adam’s apple bobs as he glances over to where the pole beckons me.

‘I…yes.’ He manages to say, his voice barely a whisper underneath the trance-like music.

I finish my drink in a single swallow and slowly untangle myself from my lover.

It’s game time, and adrenaline thrums through me, as intoxicating as any kind of drug. My previous nerves have been numbed a little by the gin, but I’m still overly careful as I pick my way up the small steps to the stage. I really don’t want to fall. Spencer’s eyes are heavy on my spine, the direct focus burning a brand into my flesh. It’s a familiar feeling but one that I haven’t experienced in a long time, and it ignites a fire within me.

I reach the centre of the stage and am no longer Dr. Juniper Bishop. I am Cassandra–the girl who works here nearly every night to pay her rent at her little cheap apartment, the girl who knows how to use her body to get what she wants and has no shame about it, the girl who uses music and seduction to forget. The girl who can dance.

And dance I shall.

The pole itself is cold beneath my hands, but familiarly so. I circle it a few times, getting a feel for the music, for the atmosphere. I know how to do this. I am good at this. Music washes away all my residual anxiety. When I look at him, Spencer is watching intently, a mask of desire. That bodes well. I take a deep breath and let the rhythm take control.

I start slowly. Teasingly. It’s always better to make them wait, to build up that tension. I’ve learnt that it makes the release that much more exciting. The music guides my movements, the heels accentuating my legs, reminding me to use every asset to my advantage. I dance languidly around the pole, starting with easier, calmer movements. Nothing too intense yet.

My body sways to the beat, hips rocking in time with the ethereal sound. As I shift, pulling myself briefly off of the ground to swing around the pole, I let a hand drift down my body. I can feel the heat of Spencer’s gaze lingering on my curves, tracing the path of my hand as it travels further and further down. He shifts in his seat, eyes wide, lips parted. Absolutely captivated.

I let myself get lost in the adrenaline-fuelled scenario, in the hypnotic rhythm. My movements become more fluid, more sensual. I grow more confident. I carefully, impossibly slowly, begin to remove the dress. I incorporate it into the dance, using it as a prop, letting it slide teasingly over my skin before finally letting it fall in a puddle around my feet.

The fabric pools on the stage, revealing the lingerie I picked out specifically for him. The dark green lace and intricate beadwork catch the light, shimmering enticingly. When I hear Spencer’s breath hitch in his throat, I know I’ve chosen correctly. Now that the dress is off, I can be a little bolder.

I arch my back, showcasing my curves, before starting to get more adventurous with my movements. I climb the pole easily, heels clacking together, before I begin a series of moves I’ve always adored. A twist here, fast at certain points, before slowing it right down. A turn there, carefully curated to draw attention to my arse, a flick of hair off of my shoulder. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had this kind of power over someone, this kind of control.

It’s exhilarating.

When I look back at Spencer, I nearly lose my grip.

He’s sprawled out across the back of the sofa, tie loose and a few buttons of his shirt undone. One of those gorgeous hands of his is holding his jaw shut, the other slung across his stomach like a restraint. His expressive eyes are narrowed behind his glasses. I recognise the look immediately. It’s the look he gets when he’s dedicating everything he is seeing to memory, making a conscious effort to pick up every tiny detail.

Spencer is drinking it all in. Hungry. Intense. Committing it all so he can rewatch it whenever he pleases. The thought of him lying in his bed, replaying every second of this, turns me on. God, I can’t wait until we get back to the hotel…

At the end of the next song, I relinquish my grip on the pole and start to make my way towards him. I move gracefully, swaying my hips seductively, as I keep my eyes locked with his. I hope he knows this is all for him, and only for him. Spencer’s expression doesn’t change, but the closer I get, the more I can see that his pupils are so dilated. He’s enthralled. Time for the next part.

Now that I am close enough, I start to give him a lap dance. I might be good at the pole, but this is where I really excelled. It’s all about the teasing. Slow, leisurely movements. My hand drifts across his chest, down his thighs, wherever I can touch, but barely more than a light brush. Spencer simply sits there and watches, knuckles turning white.

‘You can touch me, Spence.’ I reassure him as I settle down into his lap, still shifting in time to the music, giving him an eye full of my cleavage.

Spencer’s hands jump to my bare hips, gripping so tightly that I think he’s going to leave bruises. His head is rocked back against the sofa, pupils wide as he watches me dance on him. The way he bites his bottom lip only serves to make me more confident. I rock against him, using my hands to guide him to the plush curve of my arse.

Spencer lets out a shuddering breath as his hands eagerly roam across my bare skin, kneading so hard it almost hurts. I love it. It’s as if he can’t get enough of me, can’t stop his hands from tugging at the hem of my lingerie, nails scraping the back of my thighs. I chuckle, curving myself carefully off of him so that I can pad around the back of the sofa, hands trailing across his chest.

‘God–’ He says as I lean over him from behind, cheek pressed against his, hands sliding down the front of his shirt to splay across his upper thighs. I can tell how desperately he wants me back in his lap, but I make him wait a little. I ghost a kiss to the shell of his ear. Spencer turns his chin towards me, trying to kiss me properly, but I dance out of the way.

Spencer’s eyes don’t leave me for a second as I come back around to his front, this time simply sitting on one of his thighs. His hands drop to my waist, a breathless sound falling from his mouth as I slowly, torturously, lean backwards, running my own hand down the swell of my chest, towards the apex of my thighs. His nails bite into my skin.

‘You’re–you’re stunning.’ Spencer breathes as I sit up, leaning towards him so my back curves. One of his hands lifts from my waist to tangle in the loose strands of my hair. He pulls me towards him, pressing a feverish kiss to my throat. The hint of stubble scratches my skin.

‘Thank you,’ I breathe, grinding on his thigh just a little as his tongue darts out to lick where he just kissed. I’m impossibly smug with myself. One of my hands slides into his hair, tilting his head up towards me. ‘Kiss me?’

I don’t have to ask again. His mouth is desperate against mine, breathy sounds of pleasure slipping between us as he tries to hold all of me in both of his hands. I open up to him, showing him how much I want him to claim me. He shudders. I continue to move slightly to the music, but it’s hard to focus when it’s so clear how much all of my dancing has had an effect on the normally calm, composed Dr. Reid.

I let myself get lost in the moment for a few beats. It feels divine to know how much he wants me, to know how much he desires me. I tug on his hair, moaning despite myself, pressing myself closer and rolling my hips. God, it would be so easy to lose control now, to not wait until we get back to the hotel, but I can’t.

Reluctantly I pull away, pressing a thumb to his mouth to stop him chasing after me.

‘Believe me,’ I breathe as I push myself off of his leg, still swaying in time to the music. I step between his spread legs and lower myself down. ‘I would love to continue doing that, but we can’t.’

‘What?’ Spencer chokes out as my hands slide down the inside of his thigh. He’s smart, he can work it out. That is, unless desire has completely clouded his brain. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re in a strip club, Spencer, there are rules.’ I remind him, voice low and sultry. I rise again, turning around to perch myself on his other leg, nails scraping the back of his neck. ‘You can look,’ I draw his eyes to my chest with a casual brush of my hands. ‘You can touch,’ I bring one of his hands from my hip to one of my thighs, and he hums in pleasure. ‘But you can’t fuck. Not here, at least.’

‘But–’ Spencer huffs, unashamedly scouring every part of me. It surprises me to hear a protest coming from him–Spencer isn’t usually adventurous, preferring to let me take the reins, so the notion of him considering fucking me here, in a strip-club blows my mind. In a good way, though. Heat pools between my thighs.

‘Think of the germs, sweetheart.’ I tease, toying with the silk of his tie again. Spencer glowers at me. He hates being reminded of any kind of bacteria–it’s one of the few things that can make him squirm. Spencer opens his mouth to retort, but I cut him off with a gentle kiss. ‘Don’t worry, I can do this part at home.’

‘Wha–really?’ He asks, voice barely audible above the music, his hands trailing over me as if it’s the first time he’s touching me.

‘Of course,’ I say in a soft purr, kissing his cheek. I shift again, climbing off of his lap and turning around so my back is to him. I press myself against his crotch, spreading my legs and leaning forward so he can follow the curve of my spine. ‘Any time you like…’

‘I–I don’t–’ Spencer groans, big hands sliding across my back, pushing me even further forward. It’s a dominance I rarely get to see, and it thrills me. ‘I don’t know what to say–’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ I reassure him, rising up to lean back against his chest, encouraging his hands to slip up over my breasts and towards my neck. I hear his breath stick in his throat. ‘Just enjoy the show.’

Spencer’s fingers tremble against my skin, the heat radiating from his body enveloping me as I lean back into him. I can feel his heart racing, matching the pulse of the music, and it drives me to move even more enticingly. I shimmy my hips, rolling them against the hardness pressing against my backside, teasing him with every deliberate motion.

He gasps, a sound that reverberates through the quiet tension of the room, and I can’t help but smile at how easily I’ve managed to draw this effect from him. It’s intoxicating. The thrill of knowing I have him completely under my control, yet so vulnerable in this moment, sends a rush of excitement through me.

‘God–you’re–you’re–’ His voice is strained as I slide from his lap to the floor, giving him a little preview of some of the positions he might see me in later. When I turn to look up at him through my lashes, his mouth is wide open, tongue stuck to his bottom lip as he pants. ‘How does–’

I grin as Spencer’s question trails off into a slight whimper, rising off of the floor and settling back between his legs. I explore his body as much as he’s exploring mine, teasing him with my movements. I lean forward, swaying my hips, and then I pull back again, maintaining the delicious tension that hangs between us.

‘I didn’t expect you to be so speechless, Spencer.’ I tease, relishing the way his hands slide up and down my back possessively. He shoots me a slightly aghast glare. The desire in his eyes hasn’t dimmed, not even a little–if anything, it’s only intensified.

‘How could I not be?’ He eventually manages, voice rough and deeper than I’ve yet to hear it. The bass of it all sends a thrill down my spine, his fingers trailing swiftly afterwards. He pulls me down hard into his lap, and I can feel the growing evidence of his arousal through his slacks. A shiver of anticipation tugs at my stomach. ‘I mean…just look at you. You’re…you’re half-naked, essentially throwing yourself at me, and yet you tell me I can’t have you the way I want you? Of course I can’t speak.’

I laugh, leaning in to whisper in his ear. ‘Patience, Dr. Reid, patience.’

The way his hands tighten on my hips, encouraging me to move against the hardness in his trousers, speaks volumes. Impatience radiates from him, his barely restrained desire, and it only fuels my own excitement. This is a very dangerous game we’re playing. I just happen to be the one holding all the right cards for once.

I don’t know how much longer I can be patient, though…the night is still young, and there’s so much more to explore. As I lean back into him once again, I can’t help but feel that this is exactly where I belong—lost in each other, with nothing but desire, passion, and the sweet sounds of NFWMB by Hozier filling the air.

It’s strangely perfect. I don’t think I can wait much longer.

Spencer cannot wait to get me out of Elysium.

Once our hour is up and the light changes from sultry red to a near-blinding white, he’s up out of the leather seat like a shot, practically manhandling me towards the door. I only make him wait long enough for me to slip back into my dress, laughing the entire time as he hurries me. It’s like he can barely hold on any longer, wanting nothing more than to get me back to the hotel. I can barely contain my glee.

Tia throws her head back and laughs when she sees us come out of the private area. She’s perched on the arm of a chair, a patron spread out like a throne for her to sit on, but her attention is briefly taken by the way Spencer has his hands on my hips, his chest pressed to my back, shoving me towards the door. I give her a knowing look as I pass her the key. She shakes her head at us before dismissing us with a wave of her hand.

I let Spencer practically drag me through the club, a wide smile on my face. His grip on my hips is firm and possessive, causing that strange tug of desire to yank at the pit of my stomach. He is no longer the calculating, reserved Dr. Reid but rather a man driven by primal instincts, and I’m loving every single second of it.

As we navigate the dimly lit space, Spencer having slung my duffle over his shoulder when we passed Jas, I can feel the eyes of other patrons on us. A man smoking in a booth looks curious, the badge of his business slightly crooked as a dancer pours him another drink. A younger guy with very out of date spiked hair looks envious, and a pair of guys leaning against the bar look downright predatory, but Spencer either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. He’s too focused on getting me someplace private.

We reach the exit and Spencer practically shoves me out of the door, only muttering a cursory apology when I stumble over our intertwined feet. It’s only then that I realise I’m still in the heels and the tiny slip dress, but I know that Spencer will not stop for me to change. I’ll have to give the heels back tomorrow.

The cool night air washes over us, a welcome relief to the club's sweltering heat. Spencer doesn’t let go of me, though, his hands resolutely on my waist as he guides me towards the train station. It’s only a ten minute journey back to the hotel. Ten minutes too long.

As usual, the train is crowded. Spencer lets me get on first, ever the gentleman, and follows swiftly behind. A young man with dreads whistles appreciatively as I pass but I cut him a cold, harsh glare. I am not a piece of meat. Spencer, thankfully, doesn’t do anything. I don’t even know if he registered it. Spencer finds us a small spot at the back of the packed compartment, tucking me carefully in front of him.

His hands slide around to the soft swell at the front of my stomach and he pulls me back against his hips. I’m surprised to find that he’s still semi-hard. Spencer’s hands roam over my stomach, down the front of my thighs, which is an even bigger surprise. If Spencer hates germs, then he hates PDA even more, and yet here he is. Practically groping me on the subway. I can feel his heart racing against my back.

‘You were incredible,’ he murmurs, voice low and husky, breath racing down my ear. ‘I’ve never…I never imagined it would be like that…’

I smile, pressing my hips back into his and shifting slightly. When I speak, my words are barely louder than the noise of the train. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

‘Enjoyed it?’ Spencer repeats, voice laced with disbelief. ‘I didn’t just enjoy it, June, I…I’ve never experienced anything like that before. I think ‘enjoyed’ is a bit of an understatement.’

I laugh, leaning back against him. The train jerks as it rounds a corner, driving Spencer a little bit further into my arse. He groans, arms so tight around me I fear he thinks I might slip away. I arch my back very subtly, providing him a bit more friction. There’s something fun about having such an intimate moment in such a crowded space. No one seems to notice.

‘Well, I’m more than happy to do that for you again, Spence.’ I let my head fall back against his collar, speaking softly into his ear. His words have sent me into a tailspin of satisfaction. I’ve always known that Spencer is a deeply emotional guy, but seeing it like this, his desire focused on me like a sunray through a magnifying glass, is an entirely different drug. I fear I might get addicted.

He groans against the back of my ear, pressing a slightly sloppy kiss to the bare skin there. ‘God, thank you.’

He says the words like a prayer, a mantra, murmuring them again and again as his hands slide along my body as if we’re not in the middle of a train carriage. I can’t stop smiling.

When we finally arrive back at the hotel, Spencer ushers me through the lobby and into the lift, sparing a quick glance towards the bar to see if any of our teammates are there. If they are, he doesn’t say anything.

As the lift doors close, we are sealed in a very small, very private space, the tension between us palpable. The beating of my heart and the soft hum of the lift are the only sounds as we rise through the floors of the hotel. Spencer stands close behind me, arms still wrapped around my stomach, long, sinewy fingers playing with the hem of my skirt. When I meet his gaze in the mirror, I’m surprised (and thrilled) at how much darkened lust I find there.

The doors slide open and Spencer pushes our joined bodies out into the hall, aiming us towards his room. It’s the furthest from the rest of the teams, the only one it is next to my own, so hopefully nobody will hear what I know is about to happen. Anticipation floods through me, making the tips of my fingers tingle.

‘Spencer–’ I laugh as he presses me against the door, fumbling with his keycard. He doesn’t reply with words, instead pushes me even tighter against the wood. ‘Spence!’

‘Shhh.’ He says roughly, finally managing to get the keycard into the slot. The door buzzes and I manage to get the handle, the two of us spilling into the darkened room.

Spencer kicks the door shut behind us and grabs me.

He turns me around and captures my lips with his, a kiss so ferocious I almost forget my own name. The force behind it sends us stumbling backwards, his arms groping at any piece of me he can find. It’s electric, the culmination of hours of teasing, of sexual-frustration, stoking that flame in my stomach. I want it to become an inferno.

His hands find their way under the hem of my dress, fingers brushing against my thighs, sending shivers down my spine. His nails scrape the soft flesh he finds there. I gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, tasting the remnants of our earlier drinks. The kiss becomes more urgent, more demanding, as if he’s trying to memorise every detail, every sensation.

‘Spencer–’ I say between kisses, pushing his shoulders back as he curves himself over me. This is so unlike him that I have to look at him properly to make sure he’s in the right state of mind. His hair is tousled, pupils blown, lips parted as he stares at me hungrily. It’s still my Spencer, that’s for certain, but he’s so driven by desire that he’s nearly unrecognisable.

‘What?’ He says, using his leverage on my hips to yank me tighter into his body. We stumble a little, my hands knotted in the front of his shirt.

‘Nothing–I just, I didn’t realise this would get you going so much.’ I laugh, brushing hair off his face.

‘That’s the whole point, isn’t it?’ Spencer says darkly, brown eyes boring into mine. ‘To get people aroused?’

‘I mean, that’s part of it,’ I muse, carefully undoing his tie as we talk. I drop it somewhere onto the floor. ‘But it’s also about the connection, the–the anticipation. Most people who end up at a strip club are lonely or horny, and we’re there to…lighten the load. Remind people how to feel alive.’

‘Do you miss it?’ Spencer asks without even a pause, fingers bundling the hem of my dress up until the black satin is fisted in his hands.

‘Working there?’ I scoff incredulously, shaking my hair out of my face to give him a bemused look. ‘No, not at all.’

‘I meant–I meant the feeling alive part.’ Spencer dips his head down to brush his lips to the hollow of my throat. My body shivers, and I take an automatic step backwards. Spencer follows.

‘I get that with the BAU, too.’ I remind him, enjoying being a little bit more teasing. Every time he tries to kiss my neck, I edge away a step. Spencer grumbles in the back of his throat and follows. My spine hits the edge of the ensuite bathroom. ‘In fact, I think it’s even more rewarding.’

Spencer lets out a little groan of frustration, the sound low and ragged, before he grabs me by the back of the neck and forces his lips against mine. It’s sudden and rough, the kiss feverish and nearly all-consuming.

His hands are everywhere. In my hair, tugging on the soft strands at the back of my neck to pull my face up further into his. Against my hips, sliding down to knead at the flesh of my butt, yanking me tighter against him. They’re pulling at my skirt, the straps of my underwear, cupping my breasts. It's as if he’s trying to learn every part of my body with his hands, memorising every feeling. I stumble against him.

My back hits something cold and hard, and I gasp in surprise. We’ve somehow made it into the bathroom, but Spencer doesn’t seem to care. He mumbles something against my throat. His hair is smooth, soft beneath my fingers, my head rocked back as he makes short work of my neck. I hiss as he nips at the skin there.

‘Fuck, Spence.’ I manage to say as he presses me against the counter, hips pinning me in place as his hands continue to explore every single inch of me. I like him like this. Desperate. Possessive. Fuelled by passion. On such a logical man, it’s thrilling to see him so…debased, almost.

‘Gods, you’re gorgeous.’ Spencer moans against my throat. In one fell movement, he grips the backs of my thighs and picks me up, pushing me onto the counter with a strength I haven’t seen from him before. The marble is cold under my legs, skirt pushed up around my hips. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about it—whilst you were dancing. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I would do to you when we got back…’

As he speaks, he trails sloppy kisses along my collar, his hands reaching down to push my legs apart. Arousal pools in the pit of my stomach. When he reaches the lace of my bra, he looks up at me with wide, desire-laden eyes. Permission. He’s asking for permission.

‘Please—’ I half-moan, hands knotted in his hair.

Spencer drops to his knees instantly, my hands going with him, as he ghosts a kiss to the inside of my knees. He’s really going to do it. Right here, in the middle of a motel bathroom. Spencer’s hum vibrates through me as he peppers teasing, slow kisses up the insides of my bare thighs. A finger slips under the thin strap of my thong. Eases it carefully to the side—he doesn’t even bother taking it off.

‘You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,’ Spencer says softly, eyes scouring over my body, warm breath racing up the apex of my thighs. I stare down at him in awe. He looks like Eros right now. The dim light casts deep shadows underneath his cheekbones, lips parted and slightly swollen, eyes swimming with a thousand emotions I cannot begin to comprehend. It’s all I can do not to worship him right there. ‘I even thought about it on the train…’

‘What—?’ I gasp, but Spencer doesn’t reply. He smirks, licks his lips, and delves in.

The first touch of his mouth against me sets me on fire. He is exploratory, delicate, tongue teasing as he starts to eat. My hands tighten in his hair, head falling back against the glass as moans start to slip from my parted mouth. Spencer’s hands dig into my thighs, forcing them wider when I involuntarily tighten them, carefully licking a stripe between my folds. I can barely keep my eyes open. Pressure and pleasure begin to build in my stomach, the feeling of him devouring me almost too much to bear.

Spencer pauses for a second and does probably one of the hottest things I’ve seen him do. With his mouth latched onto that bundle of sensitive nerves, tongue rolling against it, he reaches up and takes his glasses off. It’s one smooth movement, as if the frames were getting in his way. I shudder another moan, pulling on his hair, desperate for more, more, more.

Spencer chuckles against me and it nearly sends me over the edge. He gives me what I want—after swiping the broad pad of his tongue up the centre, he focuses on my entrance. The moan I release is positively sinful.

He is unrelenting. Every lick, every graze of his teeth, every reverberating murmur, is expressly designed for my pleasure. He’s learnt impossibly quickly how to get me to the very edge of my arousal. Spencer’s eyes are closed as he buries his face between my thighs, fingers leaving bruises. He looks so good that I can’t tear my eyes away.

Soon enough, sooner than I thought possible, I’m balancing on the cliff of climax, hands pulling mindlessly at his hair, hips bucking slightly. I crave friction. Spencer growls and uses an arm to hold my hips down. Ironic how he is clearly unimpressed with my impatience when he was the one who practically dragged me from the club.

‘Spence—’ I gasp out, bottom lip trapped between my teeth so hard I almost taste copper. He swirls his tongue expertly with a soft moan of his own. He’s clearly lost in the taste of me, in the feeling of having me mercilessly under his control. ‘I’m gonna—I’m so close—’

This he hears.

With another rumbling murmur, Spencer doubles his efforts. The arm clamping my hips down to the counter tightens, the other hand dropping from my knee to lightly trace intoxicating patterns to the bare skin of my thigh. His mouth moves frantically, sucking every drop, every shiver of pleasure. It’s only when his tongue flicks against that bundle of nerves once more that I finally crash over the edge.

I’m moaning his name as I hold him against me, trying desperately to move my hips as my body tenses. Ecstasy makes my limbs shiver, the only sound the filthy noise of his mouth and the rapid thumpthumpthump of my pulse in my ears. He sees me through my shattering orgasm, his own encouraging moans mingling with mine.

It is over too soon.

‘Holy shit.’ I breathe, staring down at him as he rocks back onto his haunches, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth clean. ‘That was…holy shit…’

‘I hope you’re trying to say good things,’ he teases, putting his glasses back on so he can see me. Spencer has a smug little smile on his face that only serves to make me love him even more. My hands push my own hair back shakingly as I gaze down at him. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I just—I couldn’t help myself.’

‘Oh, don’t apologise,’ I say breathlessly. Spencer stands up and I follow suit, fingers drifting to the buttons of his shirt. With easy, practised movements, I begin to unbutton it. ‘That was…unexpected, but don’t think for a second that it wasn’t appreciated.’

‘I wanted to do that to you in the club,’ Spencer confesses, hands gripping my hips possessively. He stares down at me with desire-darkened eyes. This is a surprise. Spencer Reid cleans his desk every single day, and won’t shake people’s hands, but imagined eating me out on a strip-club sofa. My skin starts to heat again. ‘And on the train…hell, I even thought about it in the elevator.’

‘My, my, Dr. Reid, who knew you had such a filthy mind.’ I say, thumbs brushing the lithe planes of his stomach. Grabbing his now-open shirt with my hands, I start to lead us out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Spencer follows me willingly like an apostle.

‘Only when it comes to you.’ He says frankly, flicking hair away from his face. The fresh light of the main room brightens his features, turning his brown hair into a halo of golden strands. A bemused smile turns up his still-damp lips. ‘Besides, how could I not? You’ve been teasing me for hours.’

‘You did ask me to,’ I remind him with a laugh, turning my chin up for a kiss. We’ve stopped next to the bed, with his back to it. Right where I want him. ‘You can’t blame me for that.’

‘I’m pretty sure I can.’ Spencer says cheekily, smoothing a hand under my upturned chin. His bemused smile widens at my slightly petulant frown. ‘It’s not like it was Derek shaking his ass at me.’

‘Now that’s an image I’m never gonna get out of my head.’ My face crumples in disgust. ‘Thanks, babe, thank you so much.’

‘You’re welcome.’ His grin is infectious, his cold fingers curling carefully around the base of my jaw, holding my face up to him. It’s a surprisingly dominant move for Spencer.

He leans down and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to my lips. I use my grip on his shirt to support myself as I taste the remains of my orgasm on his tongue. Spencer groans deep in the back of his throat, fingers tightening on the column of my neck, holding me in place. His body is warm and moulds around mine as I press myself against his chest, one of my hands splayed across the pit of his stomach. His tongue swipes against mine but it’s then that I push him backwards.

Spencer’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits down with a huff of surprised air. I sidle between his knees, perching myself down on his thigh as I press my lips to his cheek, his throat. Spencer’s arms automatically ring around me as he hums in pleasure.

‘Let’s get this off,’ I speak against his slightly-salty skin, peeling the shirt from his shoulders. Spencer helps me shed him of his shirt and I see the muscles of his back shift as he does so. Spencer isn’t ripped but there’s a lean, quiet power to his physique. I give him an appraising look. ‘Much better.’

‘I can’t say the same for this,’ Spencer pouts slightly and plucks at the little silk slip I’m wearing. He then looks lower. ‘Aren’t those shoes really heavy?’

‘You have no idea.’ I laugh, crossing my legs so that the stripper heels slick in the dim light. His hungry eyes scour down my bare skin. ‘Why, do you want me to see if I can find you a pair in your size so you can try ‘em on?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t think they make them in size eleven.’ Spencer muses, giving me a teasing squeeze on my hip, his other hand brushing hair from my face.

‘Hey, isn’t that the whole plot of Kinky Boots?’ I remind him, pressing a kiss to the space behind his ear. Spencer chokes on nothing. ‘Don’t worry, Spence, I won’t make you. I think you’d break both of your ankles.’

‘How do you even walk in them?’ Spencer laughs, hands trailing over my body as I slip off of his lap to kneel between his spread legs, pressing gentle, anticipatory kisses to his body. There’s no music but I start to sway a little. His eyes narrow slightly as my kisses start to trail lower and lower.

‘At the start,’ I slip my fingers into the waistband of his trousers for barely a second before sliding them out and down his thighs, still swinging my hips to nonexistent music. ‘I couldn’t. Tia had to give me several lessons before I could dance in them properly. After a while it became easier.’

I watch him from under my lashes, trailing teasing fingers across the inside of his slacks. Spencer stiffens. His breath starts to come in shallow pants, betraying his anticipation. My smirk reappears—it’s time for me to repay the favour. The lack of music bothers me, but I don’t want to break the trance to turn some on. I turn my attention to the button on his trousers.

‘And—and now you can dance in them.’ Spencer says after too long a pause, as if just remembering how conversations work. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. ‘Did you know that there’s an annual average of 14,058 injuries caused by wearing high heels?’

‘Seriously?’ I ask, raising an eyebrow. ‘That many?’

‘Mmhmm,’ Spencer’s voice is strained as I manage to undo the button of his trousers and start to shimmy them down his legs. He lifts his hips for me so I can get them off properly. They pool around his ankles and I have to spend some time undoing his shoes before I can shuck all of them away. ‘Those—the ones you’re wearing are probably, what? Seven? Eight inches?’

‘Yeah, probably.’ I say, very much distracted as I spot the evidence of his arousal pushing painfully at the fabric of his boxers.

‘Any—anything greater than 3.5 inches can have a significant impact on the, on the body…’ Spencer manages to say as I reach forward and run a nail carefully up the growing length. He hisses, releasing a shuddering breath. When I look up at him, his starved eyes are trained right on me.

‘A significant impact, you say?’ I prompt him to keep going, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee, then his thigh, sneaking higher and higher. My fingers toy with the hem of his boxers.

‘Yeah—uh, wearing heels for too long can, can lead to musculoskeletal issues in the, in the future…’ Spencer’s voice is husky and strained as I finally pull his boxers down, tossing them aside with the rest of his clothes. He looks painfully hard, precum already weeping out of his tip. His words trail off expectantly.

I do not give him what he wants.

Instead, I sit back on my haunches and carefully slip the dress from my body, leaving me in just the specifically chosen lingerie for Spencer. He shudders again, eyes desperately flickering between my mouth and his erection. I know what he’s after. Spencer isn’t exactly subtle. I raise an eyebrow—I want him to keep talking.

‘God—’ Spencer groans when he realises. I wait patiently, nails scraping down his thighs. ‘Heels can, can place a greater strain on muscles and tendons—Jesus—’

I run my tongue from the base to the tip, swirling it around the spongy head. It tastes like salt and at the first brush of my tongue, Spencer’s whole body clenches. I start slowly, teasingly, kitten licks to the head before languid, slow strokes from the base up. His hand falls into my hair, knotting there. I pull back and wait.

‘Oh—fine—’ Spencer glowers playfully down at me. He licks his lips and continues. ‘Heels reduce the movement of the medial gastrocnemius—one of the muscles in your ankle—, reduces the—the length of your step—oh my—’

To reward him for continuing, I encircle my lips around his head, starting to suck gently. The hand in my hair tightens. Spencer’s words are punctuated by soft breathy whimpers as I start to bob my head, starting off slowly before building to a pace I think he enjoys. I hollow my cheeks as his head falls back in pleasure. When his words trail off, I slow down—if he wants me to keep going, then he needs to keep talking.

He moans my name in annoyance but I’m unrelenting.

‘Heels can–can have a negative impact on the rest of your body, too…’ To his credit, those words are relatively well strung together, so I speed up again. He gently encourages me on, using his hand in my hair to set the pace he wants. It’s fast. He’s shuddering underneath me. ‘They can, can affect your lower back, your shoulders–even your neck–’

I lock eyes with him and he stops mid-sentence. The groan he lets out rumbles through the room.

‘Easy, Spencer,’ I laugh, voice husky as I pull away from him–I don’t abandon him completely, though, using one of my hands to slowly pump his length. ‘The team are practically nextdoor–’

‘I don’t care.’ Spencer says, and I can see that he means it. Even he seems a little surprised at the genuineness of his words. The wetness between my thighs grows at this. The idea that Spencer doesn’t give a shit about our teammates, the people we have worked so hard to keep our relationship (both romantic and sexual) from, turns me on more than I would care to confess.

I think this over for a second before shrugging and returning back to what I was doing. He’s warm and hard in my mouth, and I take as much of him as possible before steeling myself. I take a deep breath and open up the back of my throat. Spencer groans again, louder this time, as he slips further and further into my mouth. He holds me there as he ruts up into me, hips rolling on instinct.

He’s nearly insatiable. All I can do is dig my hands into his calves and relax, letting him use me in the way that he so desperately wants to. It’s the least I can do.

Then, Spencer roughly pushes me off of him. I’m surprised and fall backwards onto the floor, yelping as the carpet burns across the backs of my thighs, but I don’t have time to complain. Spencer follows me to the ground with a starved hunger I haven’t seen on him before.

His callused hands are coarse on my bare skin as he flips me over with surprising ease, a small huff of air slipping through his mouth as he does so. The carpet threatens to burn my knees when Spencer yanks my hips upward, and I barely catch myself before my face smacks into the ground. He’s panting now. In fact, he doesn’t even bother to remove my thong.

I get no warning before Spencer pushes himself inside of me in one, harsh movement.

He bottoms out fully, taking me from behind in a near-feral way, and he does not give me time to adjust. It’s rough, hard, fast, as if all the hours of teasing have finally forced him over the brink. He uses the leverage he has on my hips to pull them back into his, our bodies meeting in a violent crash of passion. I can feel every inch of him, every delicious stretch, and it’s all I can do to remain upright.

Spencer’s voice is a jagged mess as he groans, his arm looping under my hips to hold me up against him as he slams into me. He sets a brutal, relentless pace, finally being given permission to chase that high he’s been striving for since we first arrived at Elysium. I’m barely anything more than a blissed-out moan, fingers searching for any kind of purchase on the carpet. There is none.

‘God–’ Spencer says, and his lips press to the column of my spine. His thrusts slow slightly–they’re no longer ferocious, becoming smoother, as if he’s just remembered that he can take his time with this. I’m not going anywhere. His chest meets my back as he falls over me, a hand appearing in my field of view to support him. My fingers search for him and he intertwines our hands. ‘God, you’re beautiful.’

I let out a breathy laugh. It’s the best I can do. I’m unable to form any kind of coherent sentence at this point, too focused on the divine way Spencer slips in and out of me. Spencer’s words send a thrill through me, though, a warmth that rides along with the fire of arousal. It’s not just about sex with Spencer–it never really has been. It’s connection, intimacy. It makes me feel alive.

He continues to thrust into me, his rhythm slower, more deliberate. Each movement makes my body sing with pleasure and I gasp soft moans that intermingle with his. His hands worship my body–tracing the curve of my hips, the pattern of the lace on my bra, the dip of my waist, as if each part of me is a prayer he’s trying to memorise. And by God I want him to learn it all.

Too soon. I approach the cliff of pleasure too soon, spurred on by my earlier orgasm.

‘Spencer,’ I moan, my voice barely a whisper. ‘I’m–I’m so close–’

He growls in response, his hips stuttering for a second before renewing their thrusts. He angles himself slightly differently and the tip of his dick brushes that small circle of nerves inside of me. The moan I want to make gets jarred in the back of my throat, coming out as nothing more than a strangled gasp. I never want him to stop but that precipice is looming with each rut of Spencer’s hips.

‘Come for me, darling.’ Spencer groans, his thrusts becoming ragged. ‘Come with me.’

That’s it. That’s all I need.

We both shatter.

The world explodes into a blur of colours, ecstasy gripping my limbs for the second time that night. My eyes close on instinct as I focus on riding out every damn wave of pleasure I can get. Spencer encourages us through our combined highs with a few extra rolls of his hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my arse so hard it would hurt if it wasn’t for all the oxytocin coursing through us.

He collapses on top of me, panting mouth near my ear as we both shudder, coming down from that inexorable bliss. His weight is warm and welcome on top of me, causing me to slip until my stomach is flat against the carpet. His hair tickles my bare skin but I don’t care. I relax underneath him, feeling our breathing sync up.

‘That was…’ Spencer mumbles, rolling off to lie beside me, brushing hair out of my face. Evidence of our activities seeps out to coat the inside of my thighs. His body is flushed, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his glasses slightly askew. ‘That was incredible.’

‘You weren’t so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.’ I smile, tracing a finger under his jaw. Spencer rolls his eyes, tracing what feels like words against my hip, but the smug little smile on his face tells me all I need to know. ‘Maybe I need to give you lapdances more often…’

‘I would be a fool to say no to that,’ Spencer says, tugging me closer. It seems to be then that he realises where we are, and what we’re lying on. I see the pleasure quickly morph into one of almost-apologetic disgust. He lifts himself off the floor and onto his elbow, eyeing the hotel carpet sceptically before turning wide eyes to me. ‘I didn’t even think–I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you onto the floor–’

‘Spencer, Spencer,’ I chuckle, sitting up too and running a hand across his cheek. He looks slightly panicked, and I can tell he’s wondering how many germs there are nestled in each fibre. ‘I liked that you pushed me. It was hot.’

‘You–you thought it was hot?’ Spencer says incredulously, rising to his feet and offering me his hand. I take it, squeezing my thighs together to try and stop the weird dripping feeling.

‘Oh, yeah. Really hot–how hot’s the sun?’ I ask, letting him pull me to standing. I stretch my arms above my head, relishing the stretch of the previously tensed muscles. Spencer gives me a weird look as he loops his arms around my hips, his chest pressed against mine. He humours me.

‘About 5,600 degrees Celsius.’ He says, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

‘Then I reckon it was slightly hotter than that,’ I say, looping my arms around his neck to offer him my lips for a kiss. He obliges. It’s tender, gentle, almost as if he’s saying thank you. ‘So, maybe, 6,000 degrees Celsius?’

‘You’re an idiot.’ Spencer reminds me, pressing another kiss to my lips immediately after.

‘Hey, I have a doctorate, thank you very much.’ I say, detaching myself from him and starting to back up towards the bathroom. Spencer, of course, rolls his eyes at me playfully. ‘We can’t all be Mr. Three PhD’s. Come on, I’m in desperate need of a shower.’

Spencer chuckles and spins me around in his arms, pressing his chest to my back and his chin to my shoulder. I can hear the smug smile on his voice as he says: ‘Don’t forget the fourth one on the way.’

‘Nerd.’ I tease, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up through my throat. ‘Shower, now, please.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Spencer guides both of us into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind us. His lips descend to my shoulder again, and he mumbles against my skin. ‘You know, shouldn’t I be paying you right about now?’

‘Oh, sweetheart, you just did.’

After a quick, warm shower, we emerge sleepier and more content than I think we ever have been in a motel. Spencer wastes very little time in clambering into bed, even grumbling in annoyance as I take too long getting ready. The sheets are cool, his body warm, and within seconds of wrapping his arms around me, Spencer is asleep. Almost as if he were waiting.

It takes me a little longer to drift off, though. I can’t stop thinking about it. Spencer was so…different, so passionate and unrestrained, so hungry. It’s a side of him I’ve never seen before. Even thinking about it in the darkness of his motel room, the soft sound of his regular breaths reminding me I should be asleep, the thought of it thrills me. I can still feel his hands shoving me to the floor, the roughness in the way he fucked me. It thrums through me to my core.

I know a lot of it was due to the circumstances. Elysium breeds passion, it’s kind of the point of it, and the anticipation of it all created a perfect maelstrom of desire. By the end of it all, Spencer couldn’t think of anything other than having me that way. I’ve seen it time and time again. Desire is a blinder, narrowing focus until all there is left is feeling. But I can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to it.

Maybe Spencer is finally starting to feel comfortable with me. Maybe he’s always had this well of thirst in him, that depth of need, that he’s been too afraid to let out. Maybe he didn't know it existed. Or, perhaps he’s always been like this, and I’ve just been too blind to see it. My favourite theory, though, my selfish theory, is that I’m the one who’s brought it out in him.

The thought makes me shuffle closer to him, gentle so as not to wake him up. As I fall asleep, wrapped up in him, with his lips pressed to the top of my spine, I let myself come to terms with the fact that the sweet Spencer Reid might not be as sweet as he once was. There’s an entire new side for me to explore, to unlock.

I just hope I can handle it.

THANK YOU FOR READING! MORE SPENCER REID FICS ON THE WAY.

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