#i was faced head on with my own insecurities and a lot of the really really shitty stuff ive done in life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 1 year ago

Text

I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: aka sugar daddy! gojo. when you accompany your friends to a bar rich men and women frequent, you catch the eye of a certain white-haired rich man, who is more than willing to spoil you -- in more than one way. ✴︎ contents: 18+, a lot of smut, fluffy, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, virgin!reader, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), but w/ feelings, semi-public sex, sex in a changing room, lingerie, nipple play, first time sex ✴︎ wc: 9,065

This had to be the dumbest idea you had let yourself be convinced to do.

You sat in a bar, nursing a soda instead of a drink (because it was all you could afford), and you glanced at your group of friends who had all split off to chat up a different man. And meanwhile, there you were, at the bar alone.

Your friends had seen a video or article online with a list of places that rich men tended to frequent, and after another dinner of instant ramen and looking at your dwindling bank account, you let yourself be dragged along to this bar.

You were surprised how easy it was for you all to be let in, but you supposed young clientele also helped to attract the rich ones the bar was really after. It was the perfect place to find a sugar daddy, or mommy. In your case, you were hoping to just find someone who would pay your bills month to month and possibly your tuition. But now you were just hoping someone would talk to you, much less anything else.

You had sat here for about twenty minutes, and not a single person had approached you — you had felt a few men and women alike eye you, but none had spoken even a word to you. Heat crept up your cheeks and insecurities bit at your nerves as you stirred your drink absentmindedly — you were such an idiot— you should have just stayed in today, snuggled up in bed and watched Netflix—

“Mind if I sit here?” And your gaze snaps from your flat soda, ocean blue eyes stopping your breath in its tracks, his lips curled in all too tempting smile, and his snowy locks just tousled enough to look natural.

“Not at all,” you manage to say, surely you were gonna catch flies if you didn’t pick up your jaw off the floor. He was gorgeous — as he slid into the stool beside you, his baby blue button up showed off his toned physique, his sleeves rolled up, as he looked over the menu.

“Can I order you a drink?” a smile on his lips as he offered you the menu — non-presumptuous and didn’t order your drink for you — was he even real?

“Just another soda, I don’t drink often, and I’m the designated driver for tonight,” though, as you glanced at your groupchat, you didn’t think many of your friends would be making it back tonight, at least not with you.

“A woman after my own heart— two sodas please,” he ordered, “I’m not a huge fan of alcohol either. I prefer things that are sweet,” and his gaze slides over your body, “are you?”

And you flush, trying to look nonchalant as your drinks arrive, “Take a guess,” and he hums, as he takes a careful sip of his drink, eyeing you.

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t guess — I intend to know,” your eyes snap to his, playful mirth in his eyes, “and if you have a price, I’m more than willing to pay it,” he places his platinum credit card on the bar, sliding it to the bartender, “start a tab for me and the beauty right here,” he flashed a wink at you.

Even though this is exactly what you had come “You don’t have to—“

“But I want to,” he leans forward, his lengthy fingers brushing against your hand, giving you ample time to withdraw, but you don’t, your fingers intertwining with his, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles, “you deserve to be taken care of, sweetheart,”

You bite your lip, “and how do you know that? You don’t know me,”

And he tilts his head, a wry grin on his face, “I know enough, baby, and I know that I want to be the one to take care of you,” he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing it against your palm, “now what do you say? I’m sure we can reach an agreement that you’d enjoy,” and his other hand brushes your thigh lightly, “and that I’d enjoy as well,”

Your lips part as you stare at him — he could have anyone he wanted, that much was clear — the wealth, the affluence, not to mention his charm and looks — but he wanted you.

And who were you to say no?

He dropped you home that night, having his driver fetch your car for you after. You both sat in the back of his town car, his hand resting on your thigh, as he spoke to you, his breath warming your skin, as he leaned against you. He didn’t ask to come in or to take you to his place, instead he helped you out of his car, walking you to your apartment’s doorstep. His fingers resch inside his coat pocket, and handed you his business card, his personal number scrawled on the back.

His fingers ghost over your jaw, as he tilts your chin up, the low buzz of the overhead light drowned out by your heart thumping against your ribcage, “Call me, ok?” And you nod wordlessly, breath hitching as he drew close.

“Good girl,” he smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I’ll talk to you soon,” he winks, before heading back to his car, “you won’t regret it.”

But here you sat, staring at his business card the next morning, the only proof that what happened wasn’t a dream, as you lie awake, staring at the number typed into your phone.

Satoru Gojo.

How do you do this? Hey it’s the person you hit on at a bar and propositioned to be a sugar baby?

But you couldn’t get him out of your head — it wasn’t just the money, he was…smooth.

Fuck it.

You go to text him, but fate is cruel, and you hit the call button by mistake. You end the call quickly, and contemplate throwing your phone out the window, when your phone starts flashing with the exact number you had called.

Double fuck.

You panicked, as it rang, then taking a breath and picking the call up, “Hello?”

“Gotta hand it to you, sweetheart, didn’t think you’d be so bold to call me,” Satoru is chuckling over the line, the sounds of the road in the background, and it was clear he was driving somewhere, “but it’s a pleasant surprise,”

“Is it?” you ask, and he hums, a noise that sends heat across your cheeks.

“Very,” he cuts to the chase, cutting over any of the silence that could linger, “could we have dinner tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“I don’t like to waste time when it comes to things I want,” and you’re glad he can’t see you — your knuckles pressed against your lips, “are you free?”

“I am,” you say slowly, “but I wanted to ask, after dinner what would the expectations be?” You had no idea how any of this worked, what the arrangement would be, or how it would be handled.

“There are no expectations except for your time,” he says, “we can take this at your pace, your rules, your limits - we are getting to know each other, and we both happen to want more, I’d be more than happy to make that happen,” and his words nearly make you shiver, “does that sound good, princess?”

“Perfect,” you murmur, and he chuckles, “what time—”

“7:00 PM — I’ll send a car for you. I have your address noted, and I have a little dress picked out for you if you’re comfortable with that?”

You hold your burning cheeks, “Sounds too good to be true,”

And he hums, “Well, perfect,” he echoes you, “because that’s what we both are.”

The car is prompt when picking you up, and your roommates help you get ready — thoroughly jealous when they see a selfie the two of you had taken that night. And then the doorbell rings, and the three of you are rushing towards the door.

“Tell us everything don’t miss a detail,” your roommates yell-whisper, “hot, charming, and so rich? I hate you,”

And you shush them opening the door, as Satoru stands in a blue button up, simple slacks, and a grin that made your knees nearly buckle, “Well I am rich, she ain’t lying,” he offers you a bouquet of flowers — your favorites, all arranged perfectly, “and I’d like to think I’m the others as well,”

“Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you inhale their scent, before you furrow your brow, “how did you know—“

“Lucky guess,” he smiled, fingers finding your own, “I guess we have the same taste in flowers, beautiful — great minds,” and he plucks the flowers and hands it to your roommates, “please take care of these, and I’ll be sure to take care of your gorgeous friend,”

And he’s whisking you into the car, opening the door for you, as he slides in beside you, his arm sliding behind you, “do you mind?”

And your heart squeezes, he’s so close, you could smell his cologne — a musky, amber smell mixed with his own scent — his strong arm brushing against your back, and as you peered up at him, a smile on his parted lips, as he stared at you with his cerulean gaze.

“Not at all.”

God, you were in trouble.

“How’d you like this to work, sweetheart?” And you nearly choke on your drink at his blunt question, dinner now finished, as the two of you wait for dessert, his lips curled in his perfect smile as always, “I just want us to have an understanding, so I don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable,”

You shake your head, “No, you’re right,” dinner had gone on fine — the restaurant he picked was impeccable, the prices must have been astronomical (not a single price on the menu itself), and the atmosphere of the corner booth gave the perfect illusion of privacy, “we should talk about it,”

The financial aspect is simple enough — he offers a stipend that was more money than you could fathom and even consider accepting — but after discussion, you settle on him paying for your tuition and other educational needs as well as a monthly stipend.

“But this doesn’t include anything I choose to treat you to,” he smiles, fingers toying with the hem of the dress, making you almost shiver under his touch, “like this dress or this dinner,”

“Fine,” you smile, gaze still shying away, “there’s still the matter of what I do for you,” you bite your lip, swirling your drink in its glass, “I’ve never done this before,” you admit, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, and he tilts his head.

“Nooo, I would have mistaken you for a pro,” he teases, and your cheeks flush, as you sip your drink, mostly for bravery — that was true, you had never done the sugar daddy thing — but that wasn’t what you meant.

“I mean that too, I’ve never had this sort of arrangement, but,” you toy with the napkin spread across your lap, “I’ve also never…been with anyone before,”

And he pauses mid-sip of whatever fruity drink he had ordered — more juice than alcohol (he didn’t prefer the taste of liquor), “At all?”

You flush, swallowing thickly, as your eyes looked down at your lap, “I’ve been on dates, but never beyond hand holding — I’ve never let it get beyond that,” you never had much an interest, and the people you were interested in had never truly reciprocated— until, you glance at Satoru, now.

He sets his glass down, his lips curled, “but with us — you think there’s a chance that—“ and you squirm under his gaze, “of well—“

And his gaze softens, “You never have to feel obligated to do that — no matter what we agree on for what I can do to help accommodate you, I don’t want you to feel like I’m paying a price for your body,” before he adds with a cheeky smile, “unless that turns you on,”

You huff a laugh out, chewing on your lip, “I appreciate that, but,” you finish the rest of your drink, before sliding closer in the booth, your thigh pressing against his, “I want to know what it’s like,” and you lean forward, all too close, but he dares even closer.

His fingers find your jaw, tilting your gaze up, “And you’re sure, Princess?” his breath warms your lips, and you can smell the sweet smell of his drink on his, “there’s no rush,”

“Who said anything about rushing?” you murmur, and you don’t know if it's the intoxication from the alcohol or from Satoru Gojo himself, but your lips graze his first, barely even. Your lips parted as you brushed your lips for a moment, before sliding away a centimeter, “Satoru—”

But his lips find yours again, fingers cupping your cheek gently, thumb gliding along the soft slope of your cheekbone, “You’re right, you’re not something to be rushed,” he murmurs, words as smooth as velvet, “you’re something to be savored,” and his lips slide against yours, swallowing your gasp as he deepens the kiss with the tilt of your heads, before he’s pulling away, allowing you a moment, “does that mean I’m your first kiss?”

And you nod, with kiss ruined lips parted and chest rising and falling, eyes half lidded with pleasure and excitement — all of which makes him want to kiss you breathless, kiss you silly until you have no thoughts but of him, “I’m sure I’m not yours,” you tease, a small smile on your lips, but a slight anxiety about your inexperience lingering in your words.

He only chuckles, wrapping his arm around you to draw you closer, one hand cupping your jaw and the other sliding through your locks, “But you’re the only one that matters, sweetheart,” and he’s kissing you again, and your lips begin to learn the dance he was teaching you, as he steals your breath and sense in one fell swoop. And when his tongue asks for entrance, he swallows your gasp with a smile, as you part your lips for him. And you swear you almost hear him murmur, “good girl,” between fevered kisses and touches.

Now, his body leaning into you, pressing you against the plush leather of the booth, his hand rested on your thigh now, toying with the hem of the very same dress he had bought you, “Satoru,” you sigh, as your lips finally part a moment, foreheads resting against each other. His eyes take you in, kiss bitten red lips, your cheeks flushed.

His lips kiss your cheeks, and then your forehead, “I think I should take you home,” his thumb rubs against your lips, pulling at the bottom one.

“What about dessert?” and he shakes his head.

“There’s only one dessert I’m craving at the moment,” he murmurs, crystal eyes lidded with lust, as he cups your cheek, “and I wouldn’t be keeping my promise if I indulged, now would i?”

“And if I offered…dessert?” and he makes a noise — a cross between a hiss and a sigh, before shaking his head.

“I want to do this right,” he murmurs, “I know this isn’t a relationship, but it’s like one — and I want you to enjoy it, and if we rush into things, you may end up getting hurt, and not in the enjoyable way,” he pinches the soft flesh of your thigh teasingly, “let’s get you home, princess, and we can plan our next outing, and our next step,”

And you rise, as he helps you out of the booth, as the waiter comes over, “Have you changed your mind about dessert?”

Satoru hands him his card, paying off the tab without even a glance at the receipt, “Yes, I had something far more sweeter and satisfying,” he winks at you, as he pockets his card again. He escorts you to the car, hand resting on the small of your back, his side pressed to yours, as if he was afraid you’d slip away any moment.

The car ride home was spent with quiet conversation and stolen kisses, your hand slid up his thigh to tease him, as his lips slide over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, both of you moaning lowly, as he stares at you with lidded eyes, “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Promise,” you flush, a rush of pride settling into heat as you saw the way he looked at you, before your lips find his again, “but you make me never want to stop,” and he growls lowly, leaning forward his hand snaking around your waist to nearly pin you down on the seat.

“Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self control I have,” he groans, and he’s kissing you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth again, as you slide your hand into his hair, finding smoothness underneath his white locks — an undercut, fuck.

“Maybe I want you to,” you murmur, and he pulls back to look at you with his crystal gaze, dark pools of lust that made you shiver, his fingers digging into your waist.

“Don’t tempt me,” and he’s about to kiss you again, when the driver clears his throat, and the two of you glance out the tinted window and realize you have arrived back home. And the fact of the matter was the car hadn’t been moving for quite some time.

You bite your lip, “Do you want to—”

And he kisses you softly, his fingers tracing over your jaw, “I want to, but we should take this slow,” he presses another kiss to your cheek that only serves to make me pout, “it will be worth it,” and he leans in to kiss your other cheek, but you turn your head to meet his lips in another kiss, making his breath catch, as you pull away with a smirk. His lips parted, as his gaze darkens, “such a tease, princess — I was thinking you were an angel that I was corrupting, but maybe you’re the one doing the corrupting.”

“As I should be,” you grin, before pulling open the door, moving to slide out of the car, “call me?”

“If I don’t, I can always count on you calling me first,” he teases with a wink, “I’ll call tomorrow, dream of me, ok?”

“And if I don’t?” and he laughs, leaning forward with that smile that always made your heart stammer in your chest.

“Oh, you will.”

“Satoru,” you whined, “can we—”

“So impatient,” Satoru chides, chuckle rumbling from his chest, voice deliciously raspy from the makeout session they had just had, “forgot how needy you are, baby,”

And how could you not be? Splayed across his lap, your back pressed to his chest, thighs spread across his now very damp slacks, your dress riding up on either side as his hands slid up your bare legs, his touch teasing enough to have you on edge, your panties growing more drenched by the moment.

“I need—”

“You don’t know what you need,” Satoru murmurs, as his fingers brush your hair aside, “do ya, baby? You just want—” and his fingers finally tease your inner thigh, “more, don’t you? Such a greedy little princess,”

“Only for you,” and that makes him groan in your ear, his lips pressing a kiss behind it, before sucking at your earlobe, “please, Satoru,”

“We have a shopping trip planned, baby, gotta get you some new clothes for our little vacation, don’t we?” He hums, his fingers toying with the edge of your panties, “especially since you keep ruining all of yours,”

“You’re the one ruining them, baby,” you pout, your lips pressing wet kisses along his jaw, “I know we promised to take it slow, but please, I’ve been so good— don’t I deserve a little reward?”

He hums, two fingers pulling and snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin, “Let’s go shopping and I’ll see about your reward, Princess,” and your lips purse, as he chuckles, lips pressing against yours, “don’t worry it will be worth the wait.”

And it was.

That was how you ended up in this particular predicament, pressed against a changing room wall, the black dress he had insisted on you trying on for him, hiked up around your waist, as his thumb pressed against your puffy clit.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, pretty baby?” Satoru coos, his finger beginning to press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “wanted to reward you, and you look so pretty and perfect in this dress, how can I resist?”

And a whine leaves your throat, and he tuts, “Not so loud, don’t want the other shoppers to hear what we’re doing,” and his fingers finally pull aside the crotch of your soaked underwear, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, baby, you sure this pussy is a virgin?”

“Satoru, please,” and he pulls your lips into a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth, right as his finger finally sinks into your needy cunt. He swallows your moans eagerly, as his thick finger curls against your gummy walls, reaching places you were never able to by yourself.

“So fuckin’ tight, sweetheart, gonna break my finger, how would I fit my cock in this tight cunt?” And he drags his bulge against your ass, making you gasp at the size of it, “Gonna have to stretch it out, make you nice and loose for me,”

“Fuck,” you whisper, and he’s grinning as his lips press sweet kisses against your neck, his finger pumping in and out slowly, your slick squelching as he does, finger brushing against that spot that has your knees nearly buckling, “Satoru, I—“

“Already gonna cum, baby?” he’s humming, while your lips try and fail to pout, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your walls flutter around his finger, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

But he’s not stopping, as your hand reaches for him, he’s caught you by the wrist, a second finger sinking into your dripping cunt now, “not done with you yet, pretty baby, I know you got more left for me,” he’s scissoring and stretching your walls - curling his fingers just right so he hits that special spot of yours. And it isn’t long until you’re cumming again, his hand covering your mouth, muffling your moan as you ride his fingers.

“Satoru, please,” you’re nearly crying from the overstimulation, but you’re refusing to use your safe word, as he guides you and him to the seat in the fitting room, sitting on his lap right across from the mirror.

“Look at you, all fucked out and pretty for me,” his fingers under your chin forces you to look at yourself —- your cunt dripping and spread open, his fingers plunged inside you still, your slick dripping down his hand, “so perfect for me,” he murmurs, “think you have one more for me?”

His fingers move slowly, parting your walls, making you gasp, “Too sensitive,” you whine, but he’s sliding your lips against yours again, as his fingers begin to push into you, “Satoru,”

“C’mon baby, this is your reward,” he’s grinning against your lips, “just relax and enjoy it,”

And you don’t know how many more times he makes you cum. By the end, the dress you’re wearing was ruined, damp from the cum dripping down your thighs, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,” he’s cleaning you up, before sliding your underwear back into place, “now let’s find some other clothes for you, baby — need to get you out of this dress now, don’t we?”

“Do you want to stay over?” Satoru murmurs, his lips pressed to your neck, making you pause, “I’d stay over at your place, but with your roommates we’ll have an audience,” and he adds, “unless you’re into that,”

And you roll your eyes, before smiling, “what would staying over entail?”

“Anything you’d want it to,” he’s kissing your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your lips,“I just want to wake up with you — maybe make breakfast together, maybe a little more if you want to,”

“That sounds perfect,” and you knew just what you wanted for breakfast.

“Princess,” he hissed, his ocean blue eyes half lidded as he stared at you between his thighs, “this isn’t what I meant when I said I’d make you breakfast,”

And you pressed a kiss to his weeping tip — you never expected a cock to be so pretty — but why wouldn’t it be on Satoru Gojo? If a higher being existed, it gave with both hands when it came to him — the tip was flushed red, every vein and curve was perfect, and it was so long.

“Well this was exactly what I had in mind,” you grinned, your tongue flicked against his slit, collecting the pearl of precum resting there, “couldn’t wait to taste you, Toru — if I couldn’t have you fuck my cunt, I might as well have you fuck my mouth,”

He swallows thickly at your words, adam’s apple bobbing, crystalline pools clouded with lust, “Careful what you wish for, Princess,”

“I’m always careful,” you suckle at the swollen tip of his cock sloppily, drawing a moan from his lips. It was clear you were inexperienced — your lips and tongue were clumsy, your fingers grasping at his base were unsure, but the heat in your eyes only made all of your inexperience all the more arousing, “tell me what to do,”

And Satoru swallows thickly, eyes fluttering down at you, as his lips slowly curl, “start by sucking at the tip, slowly at first,” and you do just as he says, all too eager, making him liable to cum on the spot, “now trace the slit at the tip with your tong—” and he grunts as you’re already doing as he says before his sentence is done, “good girl,” and the praise sends a wave of heat through your body, your needy cunt growing wetter by the second.

“Now, want you to slide my cock into your mouth, mind your teeth,” he warns, “no rewards for bad girls who bite my dick — that’s a lesson for a different day,” he adds with a wink, making you hum around his cock, making it twitch, as you take more of his length, slowly sliding it further into your warm mouth.

He’s grunting, holding himself back from fucking your mouth then and there — there would be time for that, but right now, he needed to teach you right.

He was a teacher — first and foremost.

“Just like that, pretty,” he’s moaning, his fingers gently gripping your head, guiding your mouth up and down his cock, “that’s it — fuuuuck—” and he’s hissing when your fingers toy with his balls, as your tongue traces over his veins, forcing every muscle in his thighs from having you deep throat his cock then and there, “now can you—”

And you suck at his cock, lips wrapped around, as you stare up at him, eyes lidded with lust, thighs pressed together, as you slurped at his cock, your tongue flicking at his slit, “baby, you sure you’ve never done this before?” and his hips begin to stutter against you, making you gasp around his length, “so fucking perfect for me, baby — know what I like without even trying,”

And how is he this fucking close already? Is he the virgin or are you? His hips roll into your mouth shallowly, your fingers finding what couldn’t fit in your mouth and stroking it, all while his fingers grasp at the mussed sheets below him, “fuck, sweetheart, ‘m s’close,” and you’re only re-doubling your efforts, cheeks hollowing around him, “you don’t have to—“ but you suck at the tip, tongue laving at his length, and he’s spurting his load down your throat.

His head falls back, as his hips stutter into your mouth, fingers tugging at your hair, drawing a moan from your lips. And his half lidded eyes falling to your lips around his cock, his cum slipping down the corner of your mouth as you continue to swallow.

“Fuck, baby,” he’s panting, hissing at the sight of you as you pull your lips away from his length, strings of his cum and your spit connecting your mouth to his cock, “such a good fucking girl,” he says, nearly a growl, “my good fucking girl,”

You’re smiling up at him, watery eyes, as your tongue darts out to clean up his release from your mouth, making his breath catch, “You taste so good, Toru,” and god, you’re so cute — he wanted to spoil you, buy you the whole world and more, and he catches your thighs rubbing together — but first—

And he’s manhandling you, fingers sinking into your thighs and he’s flipping you onto your back, his chest still heaving, sweat glistening on his forehead, and a grin on his lips.

“My turn,” he murmurs, sliding his lips against yours, tongue tasting his release on your mouth, before kissing down your body, before he’s settling between your thighs.

—he was going to have his breakfast.

The semester wore on and Satoru became more and more busy with work. His messages became few and far between, and your time together dwindled to nothing. Although he still sent the stipend each month, you found your thoughts wandering to him far too often — daydreams between paragraphs of reading and review for an exam that you didn’t particularly care about.

This should be the dream right? Money for essentially no effort. You had long forsaken the days of ramen noodle dinners and scraping by on your loans — you should be happy. You could go where you wanted, do what you wanted — but why was the only place you wanted to be was with Satoru? You pulled out your phone, refreshing the notifications over and over as if it would change the outcome — but it didn’t — still no new messages from him.

Was he really busy with work? Anxiety begins to creep into your mind — or was he busy with someone else? Had he been hanging onto you on the back burner — waiting for someone better to come along? You open Satoru’s text chain — the last message sent was your own — and you chew on your bottom lip.

Were you about to break your own rule about double texting?

You type — Hey, just wanted to check on you. Been thinking about you a lot.

You delete it. Is this desperate? What if he thinks you’re desperate? You’re running your hand over your face, pressing your knuckles against your lips.

Fuck it. You type the same message and send it.

Oh, it’s worse. Texting and having to wait for a response is worse — and now you simultaneously want to constantly check your phone and also chuck it in a lake. You lay back on your bed, turning and burying your face in your pillow.

What the fuck were you doing?

Several hours pass, and you place your phone in the kitchen, as you sit in your room, trying to focus on studying for your exams, instead of thinking about whether Satoru texted you back or not. You finally allow yourself a break at dinner time, and wander out, spotting a few texts from Satoru. Your heart squeezes as you pick up your phone and check.

Hey baby, is that your way of saying you miss me?

Because I miss you too.

When’s your last exam?

You bite back a smile — it’s on this Friday — I’ll be done at 6:00 PM.

He types, and then stops, then types again, and then stops. Then he sends a simple “ok.”

And you don’t hear from him again, which only makes the rest of the week a delight to get through. You’re sure you scraped by on your exams — Friday didn’t come soon enough, but it had arrived. You stretch as you leave the exam hall — bundled up in your jacket, as you make your way back to your apartment. But only, you're not the only one outside the building.

Satoru stands, leaning against the side of the car, eyes on his phone as he stands in a long deep gray winter coat, a cream sweater underneath, looking utterly too perfect. He glances up, cerulean blue eyes finding yours, lips curling in a smile that you hoped was only reserved for you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” and you’re holding yourself back from running, quickly walking over, and he’s closing the gap as well, pulling you into his arms, his arms sliding over your jacket — “is this all you’re wearing? We need to buy you a warmer coat,”

“Satoru,” you’re shaking your head at his priorities, your fingers sliding over his front before sliding them under his jacket, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, my project finished up earlier today, so I spent the day preparing a little surprise,” he’s tilting your chin up, leaning down to brush his lips against your jaw, and you shiver — most assuredly not from the cold, “we’re going on a trip,”

“A trip?” you blink, utterly too distracted by his lips placing wet kisses up and down your jaw, nearing your lips, but always stopping short, “where—”

“A hot spring — I thought we could use some rest and relaxation,” his lips hover right over your own, his thumb dragging down your bottom lip, “and some privacy — I reserved us a private hot spring,” and his palms slide down to your hips and squeeze, “just you and me,”

“That sounds amazing — wonder what else you have planned,” your lips lean up and brush against his, making his curl into a smile, and your heart stirs — god, you didn’t care about the money, about the amenities, about the dates — he could have just taken you for a walk and you’d be happy by his side, “I missed you so much, Toru,”

And he’s kissing you again, his hand sliding back to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss before he pulls away. You’re panting as he does, lips kiss bitten red, “I did too, baby, it was so difficult being without you — kept thinking about seeing you. I had to hold myself back from seeing you the minute you texted,” he’s sighing, “but that’s why I thought this weekend would be perfect — spend it just with each other, no distractions,”

“Toru,” you murmur, “I need to tell you something,” you can’t hold back — you need to tell him, you need him to know, and his lips press into a pout, forehead wrinkled, “I think I have feelings for you — more than what our relationship should have,” your cheeks flush, eyes falling to the ground, and you watch your breath warm the cold air, “I don’t know if you feel the same or if we should stop, but I needed you to know because I—”

And his finger rests against your lips, eyes nearly shining in the moonlight, “You really mean that, sweetheart?” and you swallow the lump in your throat, before nodding. And he grins, before his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, wrapping you in his jacket as he presses himself against you, “I have feelings for you too — I have for a while,”

“You—do?” you manage between kisses and breathes, and you look up at him with wide eyes and parted lips — and you’re so impossibly cute — he has to hold himself back from taking you against his car then and there — “Satoru, please—”

“I do, I do, sweetheart, you said you’ve never done any of this before, well I’ve never done half of the things I’ve done with you,” he murmurs, a chuckle caught in his words, “do you think I’d plan a trip like this for just anyone? I’ve never even engaged in this sort of relationship before — until I saw you,”

You pause, mouth agape, “So you’ve never had a different—”

“You’re my one and only baby,” he teases, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, “and worth every cent, second, and effort I’ve used,” And you bite back a smile, eyes slightly glassy, “what?”

“I thought — I don’t know, when I hadn’t heard from you, I thought you had found someone else, that you were going to leave, and it just seems so silly now,” you shake your head, but he’s cupping your chin, meeting your gaze.

“It is silly, baby,” he’s pressing another kiss to your lips, “because I’d never leave you — and I’m not planning on it, are you?”

“No! No, of course not,” and he laughs at your eager reply, making your cheeks hot, as he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, “Toru—”

“At this rate, you’re gonna make me fall for you, princess,” and your fingers card through his hair, grinning as kisses your neck, and you make him look at you — pale skin flushed from the weather or your touch, it could be either.

“That’s the plan.”

“Was this part of your plan?” Satoru’s voice is caught, as looks at you — oh and he could look at you forever.

Your innocent lips painted pink, a perfect accent to the light cerulean lingerie that you had wrapped yourself in. The lace and see through panels left almost nothing to the imagination, but at the same time, hid just enough. You were a present ready to be unwrapped — and you wanted him to do the unwrapping.

“You tell me,” you chuckle, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers, letting your legs spread further apart, making him drop the bouquet he was holding, “nothing to say?”

It had been a few weeks since your trip away and you had been hinting at wanting to finally have your first time with Satoru. But each time, he always ended up fingering you or sucking you off — he was hesitant, he didn’t want you to regret your choice.

But how to explain that you could never regret him? Well, this was the only way to think of — a hammer instead of a gentle hand.

And his gaze grows lidded, mouth dry, as he steps forward, “sweetheart—“

“You kept saying you wanted our first time to be special, but you don’t get it—“ you reach out and tug him closer by his tie, “my first time will always be special if it’s you,” you kiss his jaw, smiling, and he’s wordless as he stares at you, hesitancy eating away at your confidence “but if you don’t want—“

And he’s got you pinned under him, knee pressed between your thighs, his fingers sliding up and down your exposed skin of your sides, his perfect lips curved in a smile, “I guess we’re really not understanding each other, baby,” his lips ghost over the nape of your neck, as he inhaled deeply, before pulling back, his thumb now dragging over your lips, “I want you — badly,” and his fingers tease the fabric of your lingerie, “you don’t know how many times I’ve come close to giving into you, to wanting to just fuck you like I’ve dreamed about, fantasized about — but, I guess I was waiting for a perfect moment that didn’t exist — since every moment with you is special, right?” He teased, making you flush.

“I want you too, Toru, so bad,” you rub yourself against his knee, “I can’t wait anymore, are you gonna fuck me or—“

His knee grinding against you cuts you off with a whine, “don’t tempt me so much, sweetheart, we gotta do this right,” his lips find yours again, all tongue and teeth, as he swallows your noises and more with pleasure, his knee rubbing against you in earnest, “gotta prep you right,” he murmurs reverently.

His lips trail from your lips to press wet kisses to your jaw, and his fingers part your thigh further — and you let him with ease. And his lips tease the edge of your lingerie, “it’d be a shame to take this off, so maybe I’ll just take you in it,” his mouth closes over your clothed nipple, teasing it through the fabric, making you gasp, “but then again, I wouldn’t be able to see your body without any obstructions. Decisions, decisions,”

And he’s snapping the shoulder strap against your skin, as he pulls his knee away, the dark damp patch on the fabric, “Plesse, Toru, I need more—“ and his lips curl, as his fingers tease your clothed cunt, two fingers dragging right down the slit. The wet fabric barely doing anything to stop the press of his pads against your sensitive folds.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart? I’m flattered,” he grins, leaning down to inhale, before a soft moan leaves his lips, “your scent is as good as you taste,” making you keen against him at his words — you could never grow used to the sight of him between your thighs, his blue irises fixed on your cunt.

“Just for you, Toru,” and he bites back a groan, his gaze half lidded with lust, “only for you,”

He can’t wait anymore.

He kisses up your body, teasing your bellybutton with his tongue, dragging his mouth up your abdomen until he reaches your lips. And he kisses you again, lips burning against yours, stealing any coherent thought with only a brush of his lips or a stolen touch of your thighs. But now his lips reach the waistband of your lacy panties, giving another broad lick, tasting you through the soaked material, before he’s sliding two fingers inside the elastic tugging it down your legs.

“As much I love your lingerie — it needs to go,” and he’s sniffing the fabric with a small moan, before pocketing it with a wide grin, “for now,”

“Toru, those were expensive—“

“I know, my money paid for them,” he winks, making you shiver with a graze of his teeth against your inner thigh, “I’ll buy you as many as you like, as long I’m the only one taking them off,” his warm breath makes your cunt twitch as his fingers part your pussy, stretching out your walls — so fucking tight, “s’pretty, all for me,” his thumb brushing against your clit, making you whine, “so needy, pretty girl — you need my cock that bad?” He’s thumbing your chin, making you meet his gaze and his cock throbs — you were already so fucked out — chest nearly heaving, your breasts nearly escaping their cups; your lips parted with pants and soft moans; and your eyes fixed on him, lidded and needy — it was enough for him to cum there and then.

Was he the virgin or were you?

“I’ll give you my cock, baby,” his tongue finally licks up your cunt, savoring the taste of you on his tongue — sweetest thing he’d ever had — “but I’m going to have your cunt first,”

You’re a mess — moaning and twitching as your fingers grasp at his snowy locks, white strands between your fingers bury him deeper in your aching warmth, thighs nearly suffocating him — and he wouldn’t want to die any other way, honestly. Fuck, how is he so good at this? Two seconds, and you’re ready to squirt all over his face — the way his tongue drags against your insides and flicks against your clit, before sliding back into your sweet cunt, making your walls twitch around him.

And he can’t help but grind against his sheets and mattress, surely leaving a stain on his pants — but fuck, he couldn’t help it. All he couldn’t help it — all he wanted to was sink into you, bury himself deep inside, until he made you cum over and over — but he wanted this to be good for you.

It’s when his lips close around your clit and suck as your fingers sink into you once again and fuck you open when it’s all over for you. You’re moaning unabashedly now, your back arching and your legs trembling as you cum hard, his name on your lips in an almost scream, as he only eats you out through your orgasm, tongue lapping every drop of your release, as you come down from your high. Intense pleasure ebbs away to slight twitches and heavy pants, as you look down at him with fucked out eyes, his face absolutely covered in your glossy release, as his pink tongue darts out to collect the rest, back of his hand taking care of the rest, your cunt convulsing at the sight of him.

“Know it was good, but didn’t realize it was that good,” and he’s leaning up, sliding off the bed to strip off his jacket before undo the buttons of his shirt’s cuffs, fingers deftly undoing his button-up now, “so perfect for me,” and he’s pulling his phone from his pocket, as he leans down to part your thighs for him, his gaze dark with lust as he snaps a few pictures of your leaking cunt, “such a pretty princess cunt,” and you hear the clink of his belt as he undoes it, your gaze lifting as your eyes raked over his defined abs and muscles, following all the way down to his v-line and below…

Fuck.

You knew he was big — hell you could barely fit him in your mouth, but how the fuck was he going to fit inside you? And your nerves come back full force, but mixed with an excitement — an excitement and a relief that your first time — your first time would be with someone you loved, would be with someone that the word ‘love’ failed to encompass your feelings for.

Even when he was a teasing ass.

“Like what you see, baby?” he’s grinning, as he drags his engorged tip against your fluttering walls, smearing his pre-cum against yours, groaning as he watches it mix, “fuck, been dreaming about this for so long,” as he leans over you to press a kiss to your sweet lips, the lust mixing with love — an entire ocean of love that threatens to drown you if you look for too long, “are you sure?” the words are said with such concern, such care, such gentleness that it almost makes you want to cry — but you don’t know why.

“I am, always, when it’s you,” and your fingers find his cheek, as you lean up to kiss him, his lips curved in a smile reserved for you.

“Don’t go getting all soft on me now, sweetheart,” and you laugh.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you, old man—” and you gasp as he presses the tip against your entrance, waiting for your go-head to push in — but that doesn't mean he couldn’t make you eat your words.

“What was that, baby?” it’s his turn to laugh and yours to pout, before you’re pulling him close again.

“Satoru, please—” and your gazes meet again, and there’s no need for any more discussion. He moves slow, lining himself up, making sure he is lubricated enough to slip into you.

“If I’m hurting you—-”

“I’ll scream,” you tease, and he snorts.

“I’d like to see you screaming for a different reason, but that works too,” and he’s leaning down to capture your lips once more, as he sinks into you slowly. Your lips part in a gasp, your expression twisting with the discomfort you felt, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t tolerate, and his eyes meet yours, as you give a nod, and inch by inch, he fits himself in you — until he finally bottoms out.

You both groan, his fingers running through your hair, “So fucking perfect f’me, sweetheart,” and he’s not moving, letting you get used to him filling you up, “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it, baby? But you’re doing so well,” and his lips met yours again, as the slight discomfort ebbs away, all you feel is want, want as his tip finds your cervix, want as you feel your walls meld to his shape, and want when you hear the low groan stuck in his throat, “good girl, my best girl,”

And you can’t help the desperate whine that parts your throat, “Please, move,” you nod, and that’s all he needs for him to pull back and thrust back in, pulling gasps and moans from your pretty lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, as he falls into a rhythm, “fuck, your cunt is practically sucking me back in — getting the feeling you don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, in contrast to the dirty squelch of your cunt and the slapping of your hips with his as he fucked you.

It felt so good.

Your fingers find purchase on his neck, fingers dragging through his white locks and undercut, drawing him impossibly closer, as his lips close over one of your nipples, licking and sucking as he thrusted into you. And he’s guiding your legs around his waist, and your legs pull him ever closer — ever deeper — as he groans against you. He presses sloppy wet kisses along your collarbone, his groan vibrating against your skin.

“Look at that, pretty girl, taking me so well,” he’s grunting, as he looks at where you two meet, watching himself sink into you over and over, “g’nna make you only want this cock — no one else’s — all mine,” and you’re so close — your head buried in the nape of his neck, and he could hear every pant, moan, gasp right as it left your mouth, “such pretty noises — never made these noises for anyone else, have you, baby? Just f’me,”

And you nod, eyes fluttering shut, “Close, s’close,” pleasure building, like a coil ready to snap, you can’t find the words — “I’m—“

“Cum on my cock, Princess,” his fingers press down against your clit, rubbing and that’s it, “let me make you feel good,”

Your walls clamp down hard his dick twitching in your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips, as he fucked you through your orgasm, and his hips stutter against you, low moans leaving his lips.

It felt so right. Pleasure washing over you as your toes curled, your eyes nearly rolling back, as you came. And he can’t stand it much longer —

“Where—“ he groans, your slick cunt too much for him, your cum drenching him, “I’m close—“

“Inside, please, I—“ and he gives a shaky chuckle.

“So greedy, baby — want my cum too?” He kisses you, long and soft as he moaned your name far too loud, his warm, thick load spilling inside you, as he fucked it inside, “look at that, filled you up so good,” as he finally stills inside of you, as he eases out, groaning as he watches your mixed release slip from inside you and trickle down his balls, “s’good, so perfect for me,”

He grabs a towel to clean you up, gently cleaning your thighs, murmuring sweet nothings. Before he leans down to press a kiss to your reddened lips.

“Are you okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair, and you nod, as you cup his cheek.

“I’m perfect,” you sigh, as he curls up beside you, burying his face in the nape of your neck, “and you?”

“What’s more than ‘perfect?’” And you snort, before he’s leaning over you, “what?”

“You’re such a dork,”

“But I’m your dork, your very rich dork, who loves to spoil you,” and you laugh, pulling him close.

“Just mine,” and he’s kissing you again.

“Just yours.”

And you find yourself at that same bar you did many moons ago.

You nurse a soda, instead of a drink, because you didn’t care for the taste of alcohol. Habits die hard with the company you kept. You felt the gaze of several people on you, but none of them approached — and you didn’t mind one bit.

“Mind if I sit here?” And you smile, stirring your soda with its straw, not bothering to look up at the sound of this very familiar voice. The same voice that had woken you up with several kisses to your neck this morning.

“Not at all,” you reply, as you slide over his fruity drink — some concoction that is utterly too sweet — “you’re late,”

Satoru sighs, swirling his drink in its glass. “Well, the business partners were particularly chatty. I think they knew we had dinner plans,” Satoru sips at his drink, pouting, as you comfort him with a chaste kiss to his cheek, “how’d the job interview go?”

“I think they might give me the offer,” you smile, but you shrug, leaning against the surprisingly not sticky bar counter, “I’m not too worried either way,”

“I told you don’t have to work—“

“And I told you I want at least to work part-time to contribute something,” you remind him, as you lean close, fingers lacing with his with a squeeze, “don’t worry we will spend a lot of time together,” and he’s still pouting.

“That’s not enough,”

“Plenty?” And he relents, murmuring something about “that’s better,”, “where are we going for dinner anyway?” You raise an eyebrow, “such secrecy tonight,”

“I have to keep you on your toes, sweetheart, can’t have you losing interest,” he smiles, as his fingers reach into his pocket, and you roll your eyes, unimpressed.

“Never,” you roll your eyes, as he leans over and presses a kiss to his neck, and he’s finding your lips, fingers brushing your cheek, panting as he parts, “I know you’re trying to avoid the question.”

And he only offers a grin, before he’s holding a ring before you, “take a guess,”

You stare at it, blinking, your fingers covering your mouth, “Satoru—“

“I told you a long time ago here that I wanted to be the one to take care of you — and now I’m asking to take care of you forever,” and you can’t help but grin, “I’m sure we can reach another agreement — as long as you let me call you my wife,”

And you’re already pulling him into your arms, lips sliding against his, as he melts into the kiss, “is that a yes?”

You laugh, offering your hand, “put the ring on me,” and he does, sliding it onto your finger, smiling.

“You won’t regret it,” and you kiss him again, pressing your forehead to his.

“I know,” because saying yes to marrying Satoru Gojo was surely the smartest idea you’ve ever had.

✴︎ a/n: s/o to @laneysmusings for being the best beta reader, and i was truly possessed with the idea of having gojo take care of me and hearing mei mei say that he's "so rich" and he's like " well, she ain't lying." I also didn't listen to agora hills while writing this fic, but i used all the edits of gojo to that song as insp for the title and header lol.

✴︎ taglist: @deegausserr, @satoryaa, @orianakira, @tinnkerbell, @laylasbunbunny, @aztecmoonwarrior, @empresslazingway, @chosoilysm, @idktbhloley, @lorain07, @dreampiies, @nestafarren, @daydreamermarimo, @hydraafk, @theonetheycallbatman, @soccasium, @clearlandchild, @indigoghnights, @cha-raena, @strawberiicreme, @thegreatandpowerfulloreothecat, @jgh15hog, @onlyangeltae, @satocidal, @mrsmoriarty-holmes, @arrloww, @kyyyynziee

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo imagine #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk fluff #jjk x resder #jjk x you

15K notes · View notes

augustinewrites · 1 year ago

Text

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fluff

14K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 9 days ago

Text

diva

in which flirty!reader shows up to work in a bad mood and it’s spencer’s job to deal with her attitude. not that he minds. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: fem!reader, mentions of reader coming to work from a casual hookup, flirting, lots of teasing, the BAU being silly geese bc this is before all the trauma, insecurities about reader's job performance, spencer wants to be a cyborg, borderline cuddling hehehe a/n: nanana diva is a female version of a hustler (bandages!reader theme song) no but really i just missed them so much lowkey always accepting requests for these two!! I hope you guys likeeee bc i loveee them and also this was based on a request so i hope u see this LOL

As soon as Hotch calls wheels up in thirty you’re slumping forward, resting your head on folded arms. The to-go cup on the round table in front of you has long been emptied but you look at it longingly anyway.

Morgan chuckles, slapping his folder down on the table next to you. “Aw, look at that. Bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“It’s Sunday,” you groan. “It’s seven in the morning. Excuse me for not being ready to carpe the diem.”

“It’s just carpe diem,” Spencer interjects, standing and slipping his file into his bag. You sit up and give him the most indignant look you can manage, though it’s hard when you’re this tired and he’s that cute. Slacks. Sweater vest. Button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An enviable waist.

“Whose side are you on?”

He frowns, brushing a tuft of shining-clean brown hair out of his eyes.

“If I was on anyone’s side other than my own it would cease to be their side. We’re all always on our own sides.”

“No, you’re on my side. Defend me.”

His brows only dart up and he looks back down to his bag. It’s a look you know well. Don’t get me involved.

Morgan spins in his chair to face you, one elbow resting on the table.

“I’m just saying, if this is your Sunday morning, I’d love to see your Saturday night, little miss forty five minutes late.”

“You heard Hotch say he called me half an hour earlier than everyone else. It was technically fifteen,” you frown. “And I… was at church.”

Rossi gestures at you with his coffee cup. “You step foot in a church, your shoes are going to start smoking.”

Your jaw drops.

“Wow. I thought old people were supposed to be sweet. Come on, Spencer.”

Spencer knows better than to put up a fight as you get up and grab him by the hand not holding onto your cup and folder, dragging him to the bullpen to sit at your desk until the team is ready to go.

He stands in front of you, hands in pockets, as you plop into your own chair. “I… can’t tell if you’re actually mad.”

“I am. At you. For not being on my side.”

Spencer sets his bag down and leans against the adjacent desk, arms folded. You stopped caring a long time ago if he’d notice you ogling the long, lithe lines of him. Maybe you never really cared, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s a little harder to scandalize these days, anyway. But you’ll never stop trying.

He bites his lip thoughtfully.

“If you’re mad at me, why am I the one you dragged down here?”

“I’m not taking questions, Reid.”

He hisses. “Ouch. Reid.”

“Mhm. That’s how mad I am.”

“Okay, grouchy. Do you want a refill?”

You borderline pout, continuously perplexed by his kindness in the face of your insolence, but holding out your hollow cup for him anyway as you slouch lower in your seat.

“Don’t call me grouchy.”

“Then don’t call me Reid,” he says, taking your cup as he passes, and you think you sense the faintest wash of amusement coloring his tone.

The jet doesn’t do much to put pep in your step.

“Aberdeen,” Morgan muses, letting his file closed on his lap. “Isn’t that where, uh, Kurt Cobain grew up?”

Spencer sits down in the chair next to you, setting the day’s third cup of coffee in front of you on the small table. “It is. It’s also where Washington’s first suspected serial killer William Gohl resided.”

“First of many,” Rossi amends. Reid nods.

“In the US, Washington State comes in fifth place in terms of serial killers per capita. Some blame a widespread vitamin D deficiency. Just under eight hours of sunlight in the winter, the least in the contiguous United States.”

Emily gives an abhorrent rendition of a famous Nirvana riff, imitating a twangy electric guitar, before gesturing to your boss. “Hotch, you’re from Seattle. Did you ever get into Nirvana? The whole grunge scene?”

Hotch lowers his folder, giving her an unimpressed look. “Did you?”

While the exchange is amusing, the coffee is not perking you up and you’d like to be slightly less upright, if possible. You bump Spencer’s knee with your own, and he looks over at you obediently.

“What’s up?”

“I wanna move to the couch.”

He nods and gets right back up. When you pass, and he doesn’t immediately follow, you turn around. Maybe the lack of sleep has rendered you unable to hide your look of contempt as he tries to sit back down.

“What are you doing?”

Morgan snorts. “Uh oh. Lapdog almost forgot his training.”

“I am not a lapdog,” Spencer defends, giving Morgan a harsh look of his own, before following you, much to the amusement of the rest of the BAU.

“Don’t listen to them,” you mutter as you step aside to let him pass.

He settles into the corner of the couch. “I almost never do.” When you cozy up next to him, he seems surprised. “Um, hi?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“This is… unprofessional.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Oh my god. They don’t care.”

That’s enough to shut him up. Eventually he relaxes, and though he doesn’t put his arm around you (they remain crossed in front of him) he doesn’t seem too distraught over the way you’re leaning against him, head on his shoulder. The sky is a soft grey where you can see it through the little rectangles lining the far wall, like a pale tea with plenty of milk.

“What’s up with you, anyway?” He asks eventually, gingerly, and though he’s bold to ask it you know the last thing he means to do is offend. Luckily for him, he’s your soft spot. You let your eyes flutter shut against the boxes of diffuse light.

“Tired.”

“I know that. You’ve had three cups of coffee and you’re still about to fall asleep.”

“Well… that’s all it was.”

“Mhm.”

“God, you’re—” you lift your head, about to give him a good old fashioned verbal lashing, but he’s so sweet looking, and he’s so kind to you even when he’s not, that you deflate—all your air coming out on a sigh as you settle back against him. “I… was… not home, when Hotch called me.”

“Yeah, you said you were at church?” He sounds utterly bewildered. Your heart melts, and you can’t hide the fondness seeping from every pore as you look up at him through your lashes. He really is so beautiful.

“That was a joke, Spence. I was with a friend.”

His brows knit and a faint blush tinges his cheeks.

“Oh. I knew that.”

And he really is getting better at detecting your brand of sarcasm. One day you doubt you’ll be able to pull any over on him, and he’ll stop being so adorable and bashful and embarrassed and sweet all the time. You don't relish the thought.

“What were you doing this morning?” You ask, in a bid to quell the very embarrassment you covet, because you’re not actually a demon, despite what Rossi had implied earlier.

“Sleeping.”

You hum. Imagine taking his hand. Don’t really take it.

“Me ’nd you should hang out outside of work more often.”

“Like… in the mornings?”

“Uh, probably not,” you laugh, your own face heating at the implication he’s only sort of and undoubtedly accidentally making. “I mean—we could. We could have breakfast sometimes.”

“I like breakfast,” he muses. “I know a couple of good spots. I can show you when we get back. There are these ube pancakes that are like bright purple on the inside. Have you had ube? I think you’d like them. The pancakes and the tuber. They’re the same color as your laptop case.”

You giggle, too tired for anything more dignified and too charmed for anything less authentic. Spencer has a moment of apparent self-awareness and after a second chuckles along with you, and like 99% of your moments with him, it’s a nice one.

It slowly fades, and you sigh.

“We’d probably get called in right in the middle of breakfast.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Spencer agrees, and you feel him nod. He smells really nice—clean and sort of cedar-y. Warm.

“You ever think about how we’re just… robot arms to do the bidding of the federal government? We’re not even people. We’re cyborgs.”

“I’d love to be a cyborg.”

“But then you wouldn’t be so warm and comfy.”

“If I were a cyborg I could install a heating element. I’d still be warm. I don’t know about comfy. Maybe if I kept the biomechatronics to one side of my torso.”

“You’d install a heating element just for me? So we could keep cuddling?”

He clears his throat. You smile to yourself.

“Why are we cyborgs, exactly?”

“Because we don’t get personal lives. The job comes first. I could be doing anything. I could be in the middle of eating bright purple pancakes with my good friend and colleague Spencer Reid and it doesn’t matter. If we get called in we have to leave.”

“If we were in the middle of breakfast, we could just… take our food to go and finish it at our desks.”

“Well—I guess it would be different if it was us, but with my other friends… it’s kind of a bummer, sometimes.”

You’re thinking about the friend you left this morning. Nobody you’re particularly invested in, but you wonder if that friend is still asleep in bed—and you realize you don’t much care. You’re glad to be here, and not there.

“I think if the job didn’t feel worth it to you, you would’ve left by now. But you haven’t. You can complain all you want, but you show up every day.”

You scoff.

“Fifteen to 45 minutes late, depending on how you look at it.”

“That is… atypical. You’re usually on time.”

“Usually…” you repeat darkly. A moment passes. An uncomfortable insecurity begins to bloom and ache like a rotting tooth. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Do you think…” you falter, unused to this kind of vulnerability. A cloud swallows the jet and the cabin darkens into a place for secrets. “Do you think I’m worth the trouble?”

You know Spencer senses the unease like a sheepdog can sense a storm from the way he perks up next to you. He’s always been like that—incredibly attuned to the moods of others. You hope he doesn’t think profiling is just another of many learned skills. It’s a genuine talent, a sort of savantism in its own right. You can’t imagine him doing anything else as passionately as he does his job. Sometimes it almost makes you insecure.

“What trouble?”

“Like… Hotch having to call me half an hour earlier than he calls the rest of the team. Or you, accepting my constant teasing. I know I’m—I can be kind of a diva. I don’t always really feel as professional as you guys. Or… qualified, maybe.”

You can imagine the way he’d narrow his eyes as he thinks this over, though you’d still like to see it for yourself—but you keep your head on his shoulder. In a way, he’s already getting a closer look at you than you usually grant to anyone.

“I think… you’re good at your job. And you care more than you’d like to admit. That thing you do—where you sometimes show up a few minutes late, or you piss Rossi off on purpose, or you flirt with Hotch—I think… we all have things like that. We all self-sabotage, because it’s a really hard job, and I think we all wonder if we’re really qualified for it, or deserve to be in these positions, or if we even want the responsibility of trying to save people’s lives. But you’re a genuinely good person and a gifted profiler. And everyone else knows it, too.”

The deep thrum of the jet’s engine blurs the rest of the team’s incomprehensible chatting and the pounding of your heart into one big muddied streak of paint. Hopefully Spencer can’t feel the heat of your cheek through his shirtsleeve.

“Oh,” you murmur.

A moment passes.

It’s a relief when Spencer’s anxiety comes bubbling up before your own can. “Sorry, was that too much?”

“No,” you hurry, “no, it was—no. That was really really nice of you to say. Thank you, Spencer.”

He relaxes. “Well… it’s all true.”

How could anyone ever deserve him? How does anyone get lucky enough to know a man like Spencer Reid?

When you burst through the other side of the cloud, the sun has come out. It burns away the milky early morning fog and makes your eyes ache just enough to finally wake you up. You blink and stretch against him like a cat.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“I just want to clarify… I don’t flirt with Hotch. I flirt with you.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

2K notes · View notes

simpingforheros · 2 months ago

Text

Jason’s Girl??

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Wait, Jason had a girlfriend? And he’s whipped for her? And she’s Hot?????

Warning: Fluff, a little bit of SMUT, Miscommunication, Dick being Dick, Established Relationship, Female Pronouns, Ass Harassment (you’ll see what I mean), Groping, Jason being a jackass to Dick. Toxic! Jason towards his own family, Implied Oral (m receiving), Actual Oral (F receiving) , doggy style, Choking, Fingering, face grabbing, dumbification, degergation, pet names, consensual recording, lipstick marks, tattoos.

Author’s Note: I’m back again to harassing @jjenthusee again because they had the nerve to not only inspire me with one diabolical fanart to make me write this, but then they had the audacity to show me this so yea, yall are getting some Jason being a whipped boyfriend. Also my first smut ever so please give me critiques.

AN: Part 2 here >>> Jason’s Wife

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Oh Jason-" Dick's voice fills the air as he waltzes over to Jason as he sits in front of the Batcomputer with a charismatic smile. Jason swears that he saw the devil in that smile as his older brother asks,

"So, Wally and Roy wanna go out to the bar tonight and I know you are off and have nothing to do, sooooo, would you mind covering for me for patrol?"

Dick was already mentally planning all his pick up lines for all the attractive individuals he wanted to spend the night with before Jason casually bursts his bubble.

"No. Got plans." Jason grumbles, already annoyed with Dick. He was trying to focus on his work so he can leave as fast as he can. The clicks of the mouse emphazies Dick's frustration as he says.

"Brooding and looking at 'Hot Milfs near me with Guns' does not count as plans.' His blank tone becomes a whine as he begs, "Come on, Jay. Ever since my break up with Star-!"

"You mean you cheating on Kori with Barbara again?"

Dick glares at Tim from over his shoulder as he snaps at him.

"Shut up, Timmy Turner."

His eyes become begging pools as he looks to Jason. "Help your older brother get laid and work my patrol for me. I promise to cover for you Monday...."

Jason scoffs as he knows Dick wouldn't return the favor once Monday rolls around. He stands up from his chair as he grabs his helmet. All the reports are done, meaning he was officially done until his patrol route on Monday.

Dick groans and follows Jason to his motorcycle. "Jay, Bro. I'm serious. Please help me out."

Jason smiles at Alfred as he sees the old butler waiting for him by the bike with a gift bag in hand. He takes the bag as he says, "Thanks, Alfred."

The butler smiles as he says, "I hope you two enjoy them. I used Martha Wayne's famous white macadamia nut cookie recipe. I remember you told me they were her favorite."

"Her??" Dick gasps as Jason gets onto his bike. Dick stands in front of the bike while holding the bars. "You're leaving your brother high and dry for some girl? I thought Bro Code overpowers any flings."

That's all Dick remembers Jason having. Every relationship Jason had that Dick was aware of was either flings or toxic messes. Hell, He was dating Slade's daughter a couple years ago and she literally tries to kill him. Why does Jason even refuse the chance to bash evil-doers' skulls in for a random chick?

Jason rolls his eyes as he places his helmet on his head. "Can't really help you if you are too insecure to keep a woman in the first place."

Dick snaps at him as he jumps from the front of the bike as Jason reves it up before darting out of the Batcave.

"I AM NOT INSECURE!!!"

Tim peaks down at the runway as he says, "I mean...it says a lot if you can't pick between two women..."

Tim's words die in this throat as he was met with Dick's glare. Alfred chuckles at the following argument that begins to fill the Batcave as he hopes Mistress (Y/N) enjoys the cookies.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Shitttt...."

He groans as Dick rolls off of Roy's couch with a splitting head ache. The effects of last night filling his senses as he stumbles to stand up . He would have been better off going on patrol instead of paying Duke 50 grand to take his patrol. The very fact that Duke was also rich but still insisted that he paid solely on Principle made Dick respect and loathe Th Signal.

But having that 50k would have been better than the lack of action he got. Apparently women currently preferred exploring the pumpkin patch that is Roy and Wally instead of the Romi Beauty that was Dick.

The socks on both the main and guest bedroom tauts him as he starts to throw on some comfortable clothes before heading out of the door. Maybe he can go for a run before heading back to Bludhaven...

Then a sight catches his eyes as a pretty little thing trotted up the stairs. Her (H/C) hair was in a protective hair style leaving her clean face exposed as her long lashes grazes her cheek bones. Her eyes focusing on the cell phone in her hand as Dick's eyes hungrily scanned her figure. She breathed a certain casually put together woman on her day off as she moved gracefully in her baggy sweat pants concealed by the over sized zip-up that was hanging off her shoulder, exposing her pretty skin. The lack of strapage on her shoulder that made Dick’s mouth water at the possibly that this little minx was just casually out without a proper top or maybe without a bra.

As she reaches what he assumed to be her apartment door, Dick tries to straighten his walk a little bit as he beats her to the door. His hand resting on the door as he was leaning against it, trying to appear as the charming billionaire’s son that he always used to get women.

“Hey there.” Dick says smoothly as the girl cocks an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t know I was in heaven until I saw you over here, Angel.”

The girl cringes and covers her mouth as she tries not to burst out laughing in his face. Dick takes it as his flirtation working as she gives him a polite smile.

Maybe he can get laid afterall…

“That was pretty corny, I’ll give you that.” She admits before she starts to turn her door knob to go back into her apartment.

Dick panics as he says, “I’m Dick by the way. Well I mean Richard, but everyone calls me Dick.”

A knowing look on her face appears as she says, “I’m not surprised.”

He gently places his hand on her arm as he says, “I don’t normally do this, but can I get your number?” His charm game up to its maximum potential as he gives her the look all women swoon over. The look that at least lets him get away with the shit he had done to Kori and Barbara at least.

The woman looks at him with the most disinterested look as she says, “Nope.”

“No?” Dick asks as she nods.

“N. o. No.” She says as she pulls away from him. “My boyfriend is inside and unless you want him to kick your ass, I’m gonna go inside and enjoy my anniversary.”

In Dick’s half drunken stupor, he takes the rejection as one of those white lies that women tell strange men so they would leave them alone. Of course she wouldn’t be receptive to some stranger appearing outside of her apartment at whatever fucking time it was in the morning…

“Oh really? What makes you think your ‘boyfriend’ and kick my ass?” He teases. “Is he big and scary?”

Her smirk deepens as a twinkle of mischief and annoyance makes her eyes pop. “He is very big and very very scary…”

Her confidence only egged Dick on as he says, “Baby, I’m from Gotham and I don’t know what counts as scary here in Jump City…”

A diabolical giggle escapes her lips as she says lightly. “Oh you’re from Gotham? So is my boyfriend. I’m actually moving there next weekend. You two probably know each other…”

Before Dick could respond, her fist knocks hard against the wood as she calls out through the door. “Jason Baby, I need you!”

‘Jason?…No it can’t be….’ Dick thoughts before heavy steps came to the door and pulled it open, and to Dick’s horror, there stood Jason Peter Todd in a pair of grey sweatpants and a tight white tee shirt with the bold red letters saying, ‘ I <3 my girlfriend and her phat ass’

Dick probably would have laughed his ass off if he currently didn’t feel like pissing himself under Jason’s glare. With his eyes still glaring at Dick, he asks the woman, “Yeah, Princess? Is my brother bothering you?”

His arms across over his chest, emphasizing the way the shirt make his biceps bulge out as his girlfriend giggles.

“I figured that’s who he was and no he isn’t.” She says softly as she stands up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “He just didn’t believe me when I told him about my big scary man.”

Jason’s eyes soften as he flicks over to her. His hand instinctively grabbing the bag from her hand that Dick didn’t even notice, most likely take out from a restaurant. “You got us breakfast? I could have cooked us something.”

“Yea, but you looked too sweet sleeping and I know you’ve been having a hard week.” She says as she takes off the zip up that Dick now realizes was Jason’s. Oh lord did Dick wish she didn’t take it off.

Now the vixen was in a tube top and a pair of black sweat pants with ‘I <3 my boyfriend’ curving deliciously across the seat. Dick’s eyes didn’t linger long as the temptress snaps her fingers in his face.

“Hey, that’s not yours to look at.” She scolds him, which causes Jason to chuckle. Her eyes looked up to Jason with a playful warmth as she says, “I’m gonna head in and plate the food.”

Jason decides to be a tease and cups her ass while she squeals. “You just need to sit on the table to plate mine.” Her lightly swatting him causes him to laugh as she walks into the apartment.

She calls out over her shoulder. “Bye, Dick! I hope you get that insecurity issue looked at!”

Dick gaps at the blatant insult as he looks up to his younger brother for support. Jason’s shoulders shake as he tries to contain his laughter. It was disturbing to Dick to see Jason so happy…

“You really let her speak to your innocent brother like that?…”

Jason’s eyebrow shoots up as he says, “First of all, you’re as innocent as everyone in Arkham, and second, I’m not her handler. She’s a grown woman who obviously can handle herself,”

“Jay~” a purr comes from the inside of the apartment that causes a stir in both of the men. An evil glint passes through Jason’s face as he says to Dick.

“See ya later!” Before Dick could respond, Jason already had the door close as the eruption of laughter fills the hallway.

Shit….

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

It wasn’t until a week later that Dick realizes what Jason had planned for him as revenge for flirting with his girlfriend.

Jason had brought (Y/N) to Wayne manor to meet everyone after it was brought to life that she was not only not a fling, but a serious long term girlfriend. Jason somehow hid the fact that he had been dating for 2 years fucking years.

Alfred knew the couple’s love story before they even walked through the door as he delightfully told them about how Jason, who was brooding about his break up with Rose Wilson, met (Y/N) at Roy’s apartment complex after he witnessed her beat up some loser.

Apparently Jason couldn’t wait to tell Alfred all about it after he managed to get her to go out with him and the rest was history.

Barbara also knew about it after Jason came to her asking advice on certain gifts to give her. The ginger practically fawned over (Y/N) as soon as she came through the door.

Honestly, everyone kinda fawned over the couple as they can see the magnetic connection between them. It was clear to everyone that Jason had finally found his match and the shit eating grin on his face whenever he locked eyes with Dick made him more sure of it.

It was the same grin as he had in those videos he sent Dick moments before he arrived. Dick can still recall the video like he was the one to experience it like a delightful nightmare.

It started simple enough. (Y/N)’s flustered face filled the screen as Jason's hand cups her face. Her light pants and her red-stained lips shined with what Dick assumed to be spit as his brother's thumb swiped at her bottom lip. The already smudged red lipstick stained her skin as Jason began to coo at her.

"Aw, Princess, your lipstick is smudged." He almost sounds like he's mocking her with how sweet he sounded. "I guess it does matter, right? Because you look so fucking pretty."

Her eyes shined at the praise as she pressed her cheek further into his palm. Her voice melted like sugar as she asked him.

"You really think I'm pretty?" Her eyes almost shine mischievously as she asks him. "Does that mean I made your cock pretty too?"

Jason chuckles as he presses his thumb into her mouth, pressing lightly on her tongue as he coos. "I think you're very pretty. Especially when you choke on my cock and paint it red with your sweet lips."

Pulling his thumb out as she whines, he gently pushes her down onto the bed as it shows her in the same exact outfit she had on the day she and Dick met. Her hands go to pull off her clothes when Jason stops her with a single hand.

"Nah, baby. He ain't seeing all of your goods." Revealing that the video was made specifically for Dick to see before the video ends.

While Dick understood Jason's message from the first clip of the video, he couldn't help both the curiosity and the string in his own pants to watch the other video sent right after that one.

“Fuck, Jason!” Her moans filling the speakers as her eyes were screwed shut. Her nose scrunched in the cutest way as Dick made notes of what all looked different on her.

Her skin was shining with sweat and her hair frayed from the friction between it and the sheets. Her exposed skin was now flushed with a soft trail of bite marks blemishing the sea of smoothness. The camera was placed so he can see all of her except for her cunt which was obstructed by the mass of black hair that he assumed was Jason devouring her like a dog.

His movements remaining steady as he eagerly digged his nose into her folds as her manicured hands forced him in deeper. Her breathless moans and high pitched squeals as Jason begins to fill her unseen hole with his fingers while he began to solely suck her clit.

"Baby... Please...." She begged as she tried to grind her hips into his mouth, but the iron grip of his hand on her thigh prevented that as she cried. "Please let me cum...I've been a good girl for you...please let me cum...."

Dick swore he almost came into his own pants at the sweet sound of her begging.

Jason chuckles against her skin as she whines in frustration. He pulls away from her cunny only enough to where his head still blocked the view of it from the camera.

"Aw princess, you forgot the game..." He scolds her as his fingers seemed to go faster inside her. Her moans becoming almost pornographic as the stimulation and her impending orgasm was being played out of her. "Who does this sweet girl belong to?"

"Y-you, Jason" She pants out her answer as makes a noise that sounded like he didn't believe her. His free hand grabbing the propped up camera and bringing it around so only she was in the shot.

The heavy rising and falling of her covered chest filled Dick's vision as the soft squelching of her cunt being finger fucked serenaded him.

"You sure about that? You didn't seem too disinterested in Dick when he was hitting on you earlier...Maybe you were too cock hungry to even care about whose cock would fill you."

Her head shakes in denial as she whines as the squelching quiets down. "No, I only want you, Jay."

"Yeah? You mean it. Princess?"

Her head frantically nods as her eyes glass over. Her hips try to roll into his hand as the camera shifts a little to her hips. A tattoo coming into the frame. A small red heart with the initials 'JPT' written in cursive right beside it.

The video ends there before the final video is switched on by Dick, whose on the edge of his seat now.

The beginning shot shows her now on her knees with her head down to the mattress. Her cheek was presses against the slightly red stained sheets as her plump ass was raised, only being propped by a pillow under her hips to cover any view to the front of her pubic area. Jason held her hands to her back as his hips were pressed against the back her hips. Her whining and incoherent babble as she tries to roll her hips back into him earns a firm slap to her ass as Jason smirks.

The first time Dick saw Jason in the video and he was still wearing that stupid white shirt with the " I <3 my girlfriend and her phat ass" on it. However, red lipstick now stained the collar of the shirt and his neck. His own face was smeared in some red lipstick as he smirks down at her.

"Aw, is my princess ready to be fucked dumb?" He asked down to her as she mewls. Her grinding hips pressing into his pelvis as Jason moves his shirt out of the way. The move seemed intentional as the newly exposed skin showed a matching heart tattoo with what Dick assumed to be her initials just on Jason's Adonis belt.

"Baby?" Jason asks as his voice lowers an octave. His hand reaches around her neck and pulls her up by her neck as she chokes a gasps. His hips now thrusting deep into her as the pillow still hides the sinful union from the camera.

"I asked you a question," Jason whispers as his voice becomes gravelly. His hand flexed as he choked her, but it was obvious that he wasn't grabbing her as hard as he could.

(Y/N) cries as tears roll down her face as her whimpers fill the room. The bottom half of her face was now stained pink with no other evidence of the red lipstick remaining. Her now free hand reached around and cupped Jason's ass, encouraging him to fuck her insides up as she finally answers him.

"Yes, please...I need it, Jason. I need you..."

Jason growls as his pace quickens as the nasty sound of their skin clapping almost overpowered her squeals as she takes it.

"You little minx..." He whispers as he slams her down onto the mattress before pulling her hips back to his. His hips slamming into her jiggling ass as she whimpers. Drool and tears cover her face as she mumbles out praises.

"So full...So big...can't get enough..." She whimpers as Jason smirks from above her. "No one else could match you...I love you, Jason."

"I love you too, Baby." He whispers as his hand slips around her hips and begins to rub circles into her hidden clit. Her squeals became high-pitched pants as her climax began to rise.

Jason's other hand reaches for the camera as he whispers his final message to the camera.

"Maybe Dick can learn how a real man should treat his woman..."

Let's just say that Dick remained silent in his room with a stomach ache as he learned that Jason was both crazy and the luckiest son of a bitch he ever met....

++++++++++++++++++

Author's Note: I will never forgive Dick for the shit he pulled against Babs and Kori so enjoy my revenge. Also, let me know what you thought of my first smut. I didn't commit to a full one because I was scared lol. And thank you @jjenthusee for the inspo again and I promise I'll quit the harassment for now.

+++++++++++++++++

@simpingforheros fanfiction. I DO NOT CONDONE MY WRITINGS TO BE COPIED, STOLEN, OR REPOSTED ON OTHER WEBSITES OR ACCOUNTS WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #red hood #arkham knight jason todd #arkham knight x you #batman arkham series #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #jason todd fluff

1K notes · View notes

comatosebunny09 · 2 months ago

Text

misunderstanding | sylus

summary: it was all because the shopkeep got a little handsy. a little too comfortable, purring his name like that. he shrugged her off; did you not see that part? genre(s): romance, angst warning(s): alcohol, drunk reader, self-esteem issues, insecurities, language, short and sweet notes: inspired by that one scene from fifty shades of grey.

Imagine calling Sylus while you’re drunk off your ass.

When you’ve thrown back one too many long islands, and while your friends are all inside, shacked up with their significant others and happy. You toddle outside for some fresh air and a break from your own head.

His voice breaks through the static, all heavy with sleep. But he answers so quickly because you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder. Been brief with your texts, ignoring his phone calls, and going out of your way to avoid running into him. He’s given you your space—minus Mephisto perched outside your window each night, watching you like a hawk.

“Hello?” Sylus husks, bed sheets rustling in the background as he maneuvers himself to sit up.

Somewhere far off, you feel bad for waking him. He already sleeps like shit. But you have liquid encouragement on your side, so you shove that guilt down, down, down in favor of poking the proverbial bear.

Your words are all blurred together, and you can barely keep your eyes open as you prop yourself up on a safety bollard, holding your phone to your ear with two hands.

“Why don’t you like me?”

“I—What?”

You swallow thick. Feel the world swirling and your body teetering, but you press on.

“Why don’t you like me, Sylus? Am I not your type? Is it ‘cause I’m not rich? Not skinny?”

He laughs, all incredulous on the other end. You imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in the stillness of his bedroom, disbelieving of the shit spilling from your mouth. And so early in the evening, too.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Me. I mean, am I annoying? I kinda am. I talk a lot. But that lady—the one from before. That shopkeeper chick. She was really hot. Like, supermodel hot.”

Your name comes out in an exasperated sigh. “That’s what this is about?”

You confirmed his suspicions. Why you’ve been playing keep-away. Ever since you accompanied him a few weeks back to gather some intel from a verified source, you’ve been acting distant. All because the shopkeep got a little handsy. A little too comfortable, purring his name like that. He shrugged her off. Wordlessly put her in her place. Did you not see that part?

Sylus doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

“No, no, wait. Lemme finish. She seemed more your type. Like the kinda chick you’d be into, ya know? You two’d be like Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

He groans, and this time, you picture him hanging his head low. His long fingers splayed over his face in exhaustion.

“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”

“Mind your business,” you say around a hiccup.

And you’re catching yourself on the bollard, giggling stupidly at how pathetic you must look. Trying to catch your footing like a baby fawn.

“Only had one or two. Maybe three or six. I’m a big girl. A big, un-pretty girl, according to Mr. Sylus.”

A car honks in the distance. You barely stir from it, eyes shuttering as your head falls onto your arm roosted on the bollard.

“Where are you?” Sylus prods again.

There’s a little more urgency this time. A little more concern lurking beneath the tenor of his voice, and the sleep’s almost completely vanished from it.

“Out.”

You burn hot. Sway as the alcohol thickens in your veins. Something of a smile twitches your lips. For a second, you’re convinced he actually gives a shit about you.

“Sweetie, please. I don’t have the patience to entertain your mind games today. And stop putting words into my mouth. Not once have I ever referred to you as ‘un-pretty.’”

You snort. Stumble away from the bollard to lean against a brick wall. It’s cold and raw against your bare back. The world’s a pretty bokeh of light around. Maybe you did have a little too much to drink.

His voice drops an octave. Skates between sincerity and something dulcet; doting.

“You’re anything but. You’re gorgeous. Breathtaking. Incredibly resourceful and infuriatingly kind. You’re tough. And you don’t talk too much. In fact, I wish you would spend more time talking about yourself.”

Your lips crook with a smile. Your eyes begin to water. Your cheeks are warmer now, and you’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the words spuming so effortlessly from the other end of your phone.

You hear fabric rustling. Hear his mattress creaking and things being jostled about in the background. Drawers. Clothes. Shoes clicking against marbled tiles.

“Tell me where you are,” he asserts. “I’m coming to get you.”

“No, no, no!”

You wave your hand dismissively like he can see. You feel bad enough having dragged him down with you. Having dredged up your insecurities and projected them onto him like that. No reason to make him leave the sanctity of his bed to entertain your foolishness.

“It’s cool, Syl. I’ll catch a cab.”

“I’m not asking,” he clips in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

You swallow, suddenly feeling cold sobriety creep in. Metal jangles through the static. Keys. Car keys. A door shuts, followed by an engine stuttering and drawing a breath in. He taps a few buttons on his console. Releases a sigh.

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are. Don’t go running off with any strangers, alright, sweetheart?”

Something warm spills into your tummy. You slide down the wall onto your ass, holding your head in your hands with your phone propped to your ear using your shoulder.

“Sylus, really. You don’t have to do that. I’ll be good—”

“I want to,” he insists. Already peeling out of his driveway and zooming through the streets of the N109 Zone. “Stay on the line. Don’t hang up. I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

You sigh at your own stupidity. At your own pitifulness. Making him come play knight in shining armor like that. All because you couldn’t hold your liquor. Your tongue. Though, you can’t stifle the tiny ping of hope resounding in your head.

“Okay. I’ll wait. But can we get ice cream when you get here?”

He chuckles, the sound of it brassy yet comforting through the drunken slurry of your brain.

“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

masterlist

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus romance #sylus drabble #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus qin #sylus fic #love and deepspace fic #lnds x you #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus fluff #sylus imagine #l&ds imagine

1K notes · View notes

lyrefromthesea · 4 months ago

Note

HELLLLLAAAAW THEEERRRE, LISTEN (or read), I've been thinking. THAT I LOVE UR WRITING A LOOOOT, and I've been waiting but before that, idrk if u take req rn so feel free to discard this request! anyway, back to main topic, I've been wondering how the hashira's would react to reader/their s/o, adoring their hands a lot, like i mean— obsessed with their hands, whether its holding hands in public (or privately, if the character does not really like showing affection in public), or maybe yk hold hands in bed HWGAHGAHWHS, maybe, something like soft nsfw, like with fluff! u get me? just the character, comforting their s/o when they get too tense during their sexual intercourse, andddddd more fluff if u want! thank u for taking ur time to read!!

Male Hashira x Reader - Hold my hands

author's note: my fever has killed me a few times during this post.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: nsfw, sexual intercourse (Rengoku, Giyuu), mildly suggestive (Sanemi)

Tengen:

• who knows exactly what his hands can do to you and despite his teasing nature uses them for your comfort

• enjoys seeing you calm down because of his hands and though he doesn't want you to feel bad he certainly doesn't mind calming you down

he's been looking towards the sky for quite some time now, sitting under the tree with the person he adored most.

you were so strong, so sure of your actions-

and sometimes you felt insecure and the worry seemed to consume you. he understood it, he understood your fear of failure and the future that would follow.

that's why he had no problems consoling you when you needed it most, taking his time to sit with you in silence. words weren't needed in these times, only the comfort of his presence.

he allowed himself to glance down at you, feeling the tender touches of your fingers on his. you were strong, he didn't doubt that, but your body felt so fragile compared to his own.

the difference in the size of your hands proved it to him every single time. he knew you could protect yourself, but if you couldn't, he would be there for you.

"i think i'm feeling better." you said, your eyes finally focusing on his face instead of his hands. you had been touching and playing with his fingers for quite some time now, your hold on them decreasing.

"ya sure? you still look down." he answered, earning a hesitant nod from you. feeling your hand let go of him made him act, bringing his own hand up to the back of your head.

"i don't believe it and lying is not flashy in my eyes. let's stay a bit longer." you were quite surprised when he pressed your head against his chest, looking up at the sky again.

somehow he always knew what you needed, even when you didn't admit it. and with a gentle smile, as well as his hand running through your hair, you sunk into a deep slumber.

Obanai:

• who is surprised when he found out you were fascinated by his hands.

• someone like you adoring a feature of his? the mere thought made him blush when he was laying awake at night.

• who enjoys holding your hand just as much as you, often turning into a blushing mess.

he knew he wasn't as strong as most other hashira. he was smaller, physically weaker. of course it gave him one or two advantages, like a flexibility the tall males around him could only dream about.

yet he secretly found himself craving their strength - at least a part of it. he wouldn't complain about a bit more arm strength, but that would remain a dream of his.

the moment he found himself content with the lack of strength he possessed clearly came with you. you had been sitting next to each other, simply enjoying the time you could spend together. at least that was what he was doing, your mind had long drifted away.

he tensed up when he felt your fingers brush over his, holding his hand. your thumb brushed over his knuckles comfortingly.

he didn't dare look at you, only turning towards you when he felt you glancing, uncertainty rising inside you with his current expression. his hand reached out to you when he felt you pull away.

"i shouldn't have done that, i'm sorry." you said, trying to escape any rising feeling of shame. you just didn't expect him to hold your hand tighter.

"don't stop." he answered, his tone letting it appear much more like a quiet plead. surprise overtook you, quickly replaced by a comforting shyness.

your fingers interlocked with his once more, this time with switched positions. you felt goosebumps appear on your skin, your cheeks heating up.

"your hands are soft, [name].."

Rengoku:

• whether it's in public or at home, he enjoys holding your hand just as much as you like holding his

• however, one attractive thing he does is taking your hand after overstimulating you

"honey.." he pants, trying not to cum a second time from the way you were squeezing around him, body basically trying to milk him even in your current state.

it had started a few hours ago, when he came home from a long mission. he had missed you during his time in the snowy mountains, deciding that his arrival would be the perfect moment to show you how much he appreciates your body.

having to cum multiple times - first his fingers, then his tongue and now his cock - was just too much for your poor body.

of course Rengoku realized that, seeing you shake and tremble under him, small tears running down your flushed cheeks. you were still caught up in your orgasm, trying to even out your breathing pattern.

"it's okay, we're done. breathe, little flame." he panted, hands letting go of the sheets of your shared bed, sitting upright and looking down at you.

he didn't pull out, simply admiring your panting form laying on the bed. his hands snaked along your arms, holding your hands and pressing them into the matress.

feeling the warmth of his palm press against yours got your attention, a silent moan leaving your lips. "are you okay?" the question made you nod quietly, finally being able to register the world around you again.

"'m so sore.." you mumbled, watching the man above you laugh, squeezing your hands in response.

Sanemi:

• he absolutely loves it

• you clearly developed a liking to your hand and he's fully using that to fluster you

• taking you by surprise is his favorite

you've been standing in the kitchen, making sure all the medical herbs you've received were in their right place. you needed to make sure they're easily accessible when Sanemi came home injured.

in your concentrated state, you didn't notice the tall man approaching you slowly - lurking like a predator.

and then you shriek, feeling a slap land on your ass. out of reflex you leaned forward, your head quickly turning around to find Sanemi right behind you.

"missed me?" he teased, stepping closer until he was right behind you, hands placed on the counter on either side of you. he pressed his body against yours with a smirk, resulting in your face getting a lot warmer than before.

"Sanemi! you always do this!" you scolded him, trying to turn around from the sheer embarrassment you just faced or rather the excitement that pooled in your body.

"what can i say? can't resist you with a fine ass like that." he chuckled, letting go of the counter to squeeze your behind with his calloused fingers, earning a whine from you.

"and truthfully, i think you can't resist me either." hearing him whisper into your ear, hand traveling up your side, made you stare at the watch.

he was right, you couldn't resist him, nor could he resist you. besides, the herbs could wait for a while.

Giyuu:

• initially he was the one that liked holding your hands, it was the most simple form of physical touch he could come up with

• still a touch-starved man, WILL have his hands on you the whole time when you're making love.

• knows it gets you more exited, wouldn't judge you for it either, since he gets just as exited when he sees you

"Oh~ baby.." he gasped, head resting against the headboard of your bed. he watched you lazily bounce up and down his cock, trying to work yourself into ecstacy.

whenever you were sharing such passionate moments with each other, he could feel his fingers twitch with the need to hold onto your body - onto you.

they first slid up your thighs, holding onto your hips, guiding you to grind back against him. he loved the feeling of your warmth and he loved the reactions his hands could coax out of you.

he didn't miss out on the way your lips opened in a silent cry, begging to feel his hands run over your body, around your neck or anything else that allowed you to feel them.

and of course he'll answer.

"hold.. hold my hands.. i want to feel you.." he moans, letting go of your hips only to intertwine his fingers with yours, feeling your hips stutter.

he certainly knew how to exploit your weakness for his hands - especially since he was just as weak for you.

Gyomei:

• likes using his hands to calm you down

• they're like a security rope connecting the two of you when the situation makes uncertainty rise within you

"my dearest child, are you ready to serve as a hashira?" the soothing voice of master Kagaya usually managed to calm you down, but not today.

you sat in front of him, a private meeting being held between the two of you and a pillar of choice. naturally, you went with the one you trusted most - the stone pillar.

it would've been an honor to serve as a hashira, every demon slayer knew that, but being confronted with the choice of being one, you found yourself unsure.

the pillars were the strongest humans you had ever set your eyes on, you weren't sure if you could stand by their side.

lowering your head in shame, you were ready to decline the master's offer. however, you were stopped by the blind man next to you.

he placed a large hand on your back, the warmth seeping into your skin slowly calming you down, letting you think properly.

you weren't chosen without a reason, if the master wanted you to become a hashira, he trusted in your talent.

swallowing down your uncertainty, you nodded with little to no hesitance. "i'm ready."

next to you, still his hand on your back, Gyomei found himself smiling. if it was his presence you needed to make a decision, he'd gladly do this for you everytime.

1K notes · View notes

starillusion13 · 6 months ago

Text

Keep Talking to me

Pairing: bf! (Mark and Jeno) x gf! reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Smut

Warning: friend ditching you, insecurity of weight, comforting talking, use of sex toys, dom and sub dynamic, manhandling, oral(f. and m. rec.), face sitting, fingering, spanking, hair pulling, chocking, edging, orgasm denial, nipple and breast play, hickeys, marking, gentle and rough, double penetration, sex w/o protection(don't do it sillies), lots of kissing, pregnancy talk, aftercare. Full of love💕

W.C: 7.1k Network: @k-vanity

[ THIS FIC IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. It's only here because this @renjunnnaaa (my best friend) made my brain go crazy with this imagination after TDS3 pics clips n videos, and I am going insane over this. And well, these two are my biases. I would love if you all don't look at my husbands.]

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE POST🔞

🎀🫦🎀🚬🎀

This is not how your night was supposed to be. Come on, your friend can't ditch you for her new friends, Right? But she did. She really faked an excuse to make you feel dumb in front of everyone and went to have her fun with the new shitheads.

"I should have stayed back home." You mumbled to yourself before getting inside the cab. You were furious and broken at the same time. No No, you can't just let her make you feel this way. She is no one to break you down. You were reminding yourself with this thought and staring blankly at the passing street and street lights which seems a bit dazed like your brain. Oh, no you are crying. Bringing your leather jacket sleeves to your cheeks, it harshly wiped off the stream of tears on your soft skin. The leather surely did make your skin turn red and you didn't care about the eyeliner to get smudged in the corner.

You cared less about everything else because you just wanted to go back home and stay in your room.

Your boyfriends might be having a boys night together at Haechan's house and it would be so rude to call them and let them know about this. Surely, they would come running back home to comfort you. No, you should let them have their own share of fun. Closing your eyes and resting your head back against the seat, you waited for your place to arrive.

Thanking the driver and entering the gate, you noticed the lights turned on and someone's laugh coming from inside the house. Wait, that's Mark. With quick steps, you ran towards the door and pressed the bell. Surprisingly, Mark was quick enough to open the door and he pulled you towards him, wrapping one arm around you and kissed the side of your head, "Hi, baby."

He didn't look at your face for long enough to notice your distress but you kept a smiling face to get his warmth and he was still laughing at something. Weren't they supposed to leave for their night out? Following him towards the living room, you found Jeno standing there, his back towards you and he was fixing something, maybe his shirt or else. Looking at your side, you then noticed Mark and him, both were wearing shining leather jackets. Are they supposed to leave now?

"Dude, our baby is here. Turn around." Mark kept a hand around you, pulling you close enough and when he finally noticed your face, Jeno also noticed your fake smile at the same time.

But you were not looking at either of them because your gaze was fixed on Jeno. his bare body underneath the thick jacket and the way his skin was peeking from under it, with every long step he took towards you. He smirked when he followed your gaze. You noticed a tight black material under the jacket, only hiding his chest but his abs making you drool over it even when you were supposed to be sad because of the earlier incident.

Even if he was enjoying your gaze on him, feeling satisfied with the way you were not even trying to hide your attraction towards him yet he had a concern etching his face. Why are you looking so down? Your eyeliner smudged in the corner of your face and how you were biting your lips, he was not sure if it was because of your usual nervousness or you were losing control over him. Even if he had some plans in his mind, first he had to know about your concerns. Everything else can come later, first it's all about you.

Mark beside you, still holding you close to himself, was confused with your look. It was not the same when you went out. You were so excited and smiling brightly and to be honest, he was so jealous of what made you smile so much other than him. Oh well, at least you are happy. That's all he wants for you.

Jeno patted your head before his palms resting on your cheek, "you are back early, love." you nodded and looked to your other side to avoid their eyes. They surely can read you easily. "Why?" his gaze was boring on your side profile, Mark tugged your hair back behind your ears.

"Well, she had other plans after our meeting." he nodded, but not fully convinced by your explanation. Your usual demeanor after returning home usually seems something else and the way your voice sounds like betraying you was not setting in place. "Aren't you supposed to go to Haechan's place?" you asked him and glanced at Mark. Both of them nodded.

Mark placed a kiss on your cheek, "suddenly his girlfriend surprised him today and now he has some other plan for the night. Boy will have his own fun." he laughed afterwards.

Jeno slid his hand down from your cheek to your jaw and gently grabbed it, bringing his face closer to yours and placing a soft kiss on your lips, staying there a bit for too long to feel your breath changing the rhythm. Mark's hand rubbing your side and other hand playing with your fingers. You closed your eyes when you felt Jeno whispering on your lips, "tell me what happened, sweetheart."

That's exactly the only push you need to confess to them. Their touch, their voice, their warmth and their eyes on you. Yes. you would do anything, say anything and comply with them on anything.

"I waited at the park for one hour." he hummed against your lips, hearing your soothing voice was relaxing to him. He asked again, "and?" a tear slipped from your eyes, Mark wiped it off. "She never did. And then I saw an IG live from one of her friends. They are partying somewhere else."

"Is my baby hurt?" Mark softly asked you and you nodded, looking at him innocently. Jeno stood back straight and shared a knowing glance with the other boy. "So what will you do now?"

"I don't know. Maybe sleep." Mark took off his hand from around you and brushed back his hair. You took a full look of his outfit. Same tight jeans as Jeno, hugging their legs deliciously perfectly but he had a black t-shirt hiding his skin unlike Jeno. "What about you two?" you love it when they almost dress up like twins.

You stared at them and Jeno suddenly smirked, resting his hands on his hip, "we have a plan tonight."

"oh...good." You looked at Mark who smirked as well, you knitted your brows together and a confused look visible on your face, earning chuckles, "what happened? Why are you both laughing? With whom do you have plans?"

"So many questions we have. Right?" Jeno darkly chuckled and brushed his fingers over your cheeks, tracing the outline of your face, "we have plans with you."

"with me?" you don't remember anything about it.

He nodded and you felt Mark hugging you from back, resting his chin on your shoulder and his nose brushing your neck and ear, his breath rising goosebumps on your skin. Jeno pulled your face up by your chin and your soft gaze met his dark ones. His eyes scanned your face for any hesitation but there was none, so he leaned forward, "lift your leg up."

"what?" you were confused not until Mark whispered into your ears, "do it right, baby." he took off your jacket in the way.

You complied, bending your knees and lifting your leg, Jeno quickly held it and wrapped it around him, "Jump." You did. Mark pressing himself behind you and your legs now wrapped around Jeno's waist. Mark's mouth not leaving a single inch of your skin, licking your earlobe down to your neck, inhaling the perfume, "you smell so sweet, baby." Kissing and nibbling on your skin. your body shook in their hold when Jeno squeezed your chest above your top.

"Tell me how you are feeling." Jeno was not asking you nor telling you to say it, he was ordering you. His tone was quite demanding that he was not playing with any emotions rather totally concentrating on every thought going across your mind. Your breathing heaved with their every little touch and the skin was burning under their touch. The way soft sounds escaping your throat, vibrating against Mark's mouth, he hummed in response.

You couldn't think of anything at the moment, only focusing on their touch and finding a comfortable position to grind against one of them. "if you don't start speaking. We are going to stop here." Jeno said and attached his lips with your throat, sucking a deep red mark, earning a moan out from you. Both groaned when you grind your hip in the weird position, but to release the tension building up in you was to be eased.

Mark grabbed your hip and warned, "stay still. Keep talking and let us do everything."

You still didn't say anything when Jeno grabbed your chin rather harshly and brought your face near to his, "don't let me lose my patience, love. Use all your words to start speaking."

You nodded, "I..mhm..am just upset." Jeno's hand brushed your thighs before his hands disappeared under your skirt. He folded a bit of your high rise socks and again his hands sliding up and down your back of the thigh, "why?"

"s-she didn't even tell me about it." Your head fell back on Mark's shoulder and you clutched Jeno's jacket when he again sucked a hickey near your collarbone. He had undone only three buttons from your shirt, rest keeping as it is. "And, do you want to feel good?"

"yes." Honestly, you want to forget about everything from the evening and just want to spend time with them. And, of course they would always be too happy to fulfill your requests as why not. If they could, they would have kept you between them forever. Oh, you are a treasured one for them.

Jeno tapped Mark's shoulder whose mouth quickly left your skin and he nodded when the younger boy motioned towards the shared bedroom. Mark led the way while Jeno placed your head on his shoulder and rubbed your back, " you just have to tell us everything, okay? You trust us, right?"

"hm..." your arms and legs wrapped around him and his strong cologne hitting your nose, pulling you towards him more. You were quite surprised with his strength. He was holding you up for quite a while now and still, he didn't get tired. It's not like you are those skinny girls who can have those barbie moments from fictions but at least he should put you down now, his hands might get strain.

He followed behind Mark, kissing your earlobe and kissing the exposed shoulder, your shirt sliding down your shoulder. He placed you on the edge of the bed, kissing your lips before standing straight to look behind you. You turned your neck, noticing Mark pulling off his jacket, revealing his black undershirt and you gulped, knowing what's coming.

A hand caressing your head made you look up at Jeno, "you just have to trust us. Okay?"

You nodded as he grabbed your hairs and yanked your head back, you groaned at the pull, "words, love. What we said earlier? You will keep talking and we will do everything."

"Yes, Jeno." You blurted and he smiled, even if the smile was so cute but he pushed you back and left you balancing yourself on your elbows.

Mark's voice echoed inside the room, "come here." And you know better, you shouldn't waste your time and wait for them to lose their patience, you crawled towards him, Jeno's eyes fixed at your wiggling ass and Mark was looking at your chest peeking from the end of the shirt. They both groaned at the sight.

Mark patted his thigh and you quickly placed yourself, your legs on either side of his and your covered core in contact with the harsh material of the jeans. He took a hold of your hands and brought to his lips, kissing them softly and smiling at you. "Always pretty. So, how should we start?"

"Please fuck me, Mark." He chuckled hearing your response and Jeno shook his head before going towards a particular drawer. When you tried to look that way, Mark held your chin and faced him, "I'm here talking with you. Your pussy is almost touching me and still you are looking somewhere else."

You shook your head, "No no I am your girl. I'm yours, please fuck me."

"Aren't we already going to the end?" He curled the locks between his fingers and smirked, "we have so much for the night."

With that he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss, pressing his lips onto you a bit too long and then moving it in a different rhythm to yours. His other hand unbuttoning your shirt and your hands placed on his chest curled up. You love the way he takes his whole time to kiss you, to make you feel every passing second when his lips are on you.

Soon, his lips moved with your flow, hands massaging your chest and your hands snaked around him to pull him more close when you felt him pulling apart. Teeth clashing with each other and tongues exploring each other inside but soon he felt your hips grinding against his thigh, he held your hips tightly to restrict your movements but not fully, still letting you to move a bit.

"Please..." you whimpered, trying to get more friction and chuckled, pulling his mouth away from yours, pressing a little kiss on your nose. Guiding your hips to move to his liking but it was not enough for you.

"You look so pretty when you beg like this. So desperate for me. My baby." He pecked your lips, and lifted you up when he felt your body was shaking. He chuckled, "You are trying your best to get yourself off with that little movement? So pathetic you are, baby."

"She is and that's why her friend took her advantage." Jeno spoke from the end of the bed but you quickly protested, still annoyed that Mark didn't let you come before on his thigh. "I will talk to her about this tomorrow."

Mark grabbed your cheek and simply stated with a stern voice, "NO. You are not speaking to her anymore."

" but-"

"I don't want to hear it. Now turn around for me." You did and he placed you between his legs, pulling you closer and your back against his chest. He patted your thigh and gently pushed them to either side, pulling them under his legs to cage you there.

Jeno climbed up the bed and rested between your legs, placing his hand over your thighs, "who loves you the most?" He stared at your eyes.

"You. Both of you."

He hummed again, "who cares for you?"

"You both."

He cupped your face, placing a soft kiss on your lips. He was doing it on purpose to make you crave for kisses more. The drools from the shared kiss with Mak earlier were still around your lips but he could care less about it. "And did we ever make you cry like her?"

You shook your head, "no."

"So we win this. Now it's clear that you should only listen to us. She is clearly jealous of you, love. You are perfect and nobody should dare to make you cry." He kissed your temple before retreating himself.

Your eyes were still looking at the black leather material with belt design inside his jacket and your curiosity did get noticed by him when he chuckled, "if you want to see it. Come, remove my jacket."

From somewhere you got the enthusiasm, you quickly pulled yourself up from Mark's chest and leaned forward to tug his jacket and he helped you to get it off from his body. "This is so cool. I like it so much."

He threw the jacket to the side of the bed and nodded, "I like this kinda vest too but earlier when you came, Mark was laughing at this."

Mark protested from behind, "woah dude. The way you were fixing it, I was just telling you that it looked like you were fixing your bra."

Jeno glared at him but both of them heard your giggle and it's the first time you smiled today's night, "I see you are enjoying this, y/n...that means we are your best boyfriends."

You nodded and Mark kissed your neck, shoulder blade and left deep red marks over your shoulder, pulling down the shirt more to expose you. "Yes but I'm feeling offended as you both might laugh at me when I fix my bra. Right?"

"No, love. It's about your comfort and also, I don't understand why you have to wear that around us as we could then see your tits and them bouncing perfectly." Jeno stated and laughed when you slapped his biceps. His muscles were more prominent and tight than the last two months, probably hitting the gym more.

When you were about to slap him again, Mark held your hands back. You were already spread in front of the man kneeling before you. "Now stay like this for Jeno, baby." He whispered with his deep voice.

Jeno took something from beside him and when he turned it on and turned towards your side, your body shivered with excitement. It was his favorite rose vibrator and you knew better than what was in for the night.

Mark pulled your skirt and rubbed his hand above your clothed core, groaning in your ear when he felt the wet patch, "ah baby. So wet for us. Just with our touch you might come. So filthy."

When you didn't reply and closed your eyes, leaning your head back to enjoy the sensation, he whispered seductively, "keep talking, baby. Or you are not getting anything."

"Yes yes. I'm so wet for you. So filthy just for you both. Only for both of you." Hearing you, he pressed his palms over your core and stayed there with the pressure. Both of their hungry eyes watching your every twist of expression and your legs shaking. "Please, do something."

After rubbing a few circles over your core, Mark pulled your panties aside and the cold air of the conditioner hit the bare core, making your body shiver. Jeno spreaded your arousal across your folds and groaned with the sight. You suddenly gasped when he brought the vibrator to your core, the setting was low and his satisfaction was high. Mark squeezed your chest, "do you like it?"

"Yes." a moan followed your reply. Even when the setting turned to a set high, you were not getting what you wanted. Your legs shaking under his tight hold, when you managed to free a hand and tried to bring the vibrator close, Jeno grabbed it quickly and glared, "take what I'm giving you and use your words, not your hands." He squeezed your hand above Mark's thigh.

The toy felt like him teasing your core with kitten licks. A frustrated groan and whine leaving your mouth when he pulled away the vibrator, denying your orgasm. That was not for once, he was repeating the action every time he felt you clenching around the toy. Both of them were reading your expressions like a straight A student as if they could just draw your every expression a second later. "Yes, baby. You are doing so good for us." Mark whispered and again, Jeno pulled away the vibrator.

"Please.." tears falling down your eyes, "Please...more...I can't." your pleadings only earned chuckles from Jeno and a laugh from Mark into your ears. Mark wrapped a hand around your throat to put pressure on the sides.

He mocked your expression, "you can't? But baby..." Jeno completely pulled it away and turned it off and when you tried to lift your hip, Mark slapped your pussy making you cry out, "don't be a bad girl now."

Jeno laid down beside you two and you looked at him confused. Mark relieved you from his hold and you turned to your side to take a better look at them. They noticed your tear stained face, flushed cheeks and beautiful red marks on your exposed skin. Your pussy was barely hiding under the skirt because of your disheveled condition. The way Jeno was laying down and his bare upper body with those tight belt material across his chest, resting perfectly against his chest was pulling you towards him. You would jump on him anytime but you knew that you didn't have any choice to do anything today without their permission. Anyways, they would really love to see your wild side though.

"Come here." The laying man called out for you but you rested yourself on your palm and confusedly stared at him. He rolled his eyes and extended his hand towards you and you grabbed it, still unsure of exactly what he wanted. "Sit on my face." he said and your eyes went wide.

"W-what? No. I can't."

Mark brushed your hair before taking a fist at it and yanked back, "did he ask you?" he pecked your lips, "go for it, baby."

When Jeno pulled you towards him, stumbling just beside his chest, tapping your thigh to sit on his chest, you shook your head again, "no. Jeno, please."

"Y/n, what are you requesting?" His tone was harsh and the way he was staring at you darkly was a dangerous look but still he waited to listen to your hesitation. If you were uncomfortable then he would appreciate you and wouldn't force you to do it. This was a new thing he wanted to try and when he, both of them noticed the fear in your eyes, they shared a look.

"I can't." he squeezed your hand and Mark stroked your back, "why you can't?"

You looked down at your lap, "I am heavy..." you whispered and only if you did notice the disbelief look on the face of the man laying down. He scoffed, "and do you think I care?"

"Do you think your weight matters to us?" he kissed the back of your palm, "you are perfect, y/n. No one compares to you."

"Yes, baby. You are our perfect girl." pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "go, listen to him."

Jeno guided you slowly to sit on his chest and the moment you did, your fingers started admiring the material on his chest, the silver parts brushing against your hot skin. His hands moving up and down your thighs, rolling down your high rise socks. "Do you like it that much?"

You nodded, "this is looking so good on you." you met his eyes and smiled, "looking like mine."

"Is my y/n flirting with me?" he raised a brow and you giggled. Mark patted your thigh, "let's take this off, sweety." he indicated under your skirt. You nodded and Jeno guided you on your knees and Mark helped you to take your panties off, still keeping your skirt on and your shirt almost falling off your body. As soon as your bare heat came in contact with his belted chest, you let out a moan and clutched his shoulder, your body leaning forwards.

"Come on, I'm starving." he pulled you towards his face but he felt you grinding on his chest and chuckled, "y/n, stay still." he spanked your bare ass and you yelped in sudden hit. Jolting forwards, he easily guided you to sit on his face and you sank down. His nose on your clit and his lips mounding over your core.

"Oh my god." you clutched the headboard tightly and on the other hand grabbing Mark's hand. "Ah..this feels so good." your breath labored and even if you wanted to grind your hip, Jeno gripped it tightly, surely leaving red marks over your skin. He sucked on your clit and you threw your head back with a loud moan. His groans vibrated against your heat, making your coils tighten inside your stomach, he lifted you up a bit and you whined for the loss of contact, "you taste so sweet." he kissed and bit your inner thighs, your body shaking under their hold.

Mark was smirking at the view in front of him. How your body was shaking and squirming and your tears falling down, he moved towards your face and kissed your cheeks. Your innocent eyes met his dark gaze and he crushed his lips with yours, directly moving his tongue inside when you cried out again as Jeno's tongue started torturing your clit. Sucking and lapping onto your heat like a starved animal. "Stay still." his muffled order with a groan from beneath you made your head shake against Mark, "listen to him, baby."

"I can't please. Make me cum. Please."

"You will, baby." he kissed your shoulder and slid down your shirt completely from your body, leaving you in your bra and skirt. He bit his lips at the sight and left your hand to get off the bed. You pleaded towards the other boy, "please Jeno."

As he felt you clutching and your arousal dripping on his tongue. He stopped eating you out and made you stay still. You whimpered and sobbed, "why why?"

"What? You thought I would let you come so easily? Not yet, love." he smirked. He spanked your ass again when he felt your attempt to move your hips against him. You both heard shuffling sound from your side and noticed Mark taking off his shirt and your eyes instantly trailed over his body and he amusedly watched you checking him out. "I know what you want, baby"

Jeno spanked you again and you quickly turned towards him, "did I say to watch him?" you shook your head and quickly added a faint, "no." he smiled and guided you to sit on his face again, latching his mouth to your heat, devouring and groaning and your moan echoing inside the room. Standing beside you both, Mark grabbed a fistful of your hair and turned your face towards him, "won't you help me, baby?"

"yes...angh...I will."

"Good girl." he held your shoulder to hold you straight and your hands busily and messily tugged at his button to open it and pulled his pants down. Your hands and legs started shaking and Jeno's big nose bumping on your clit made you go insane when he suddenly stopped and you whined. Mark pulled his pants and boxer down to free his member and took it in his hand and rubbed it with his own arousal, groaning while his head fell backwards.

"why? " You whined and pouted while looking down at Jeno. you didn't know for how many more times he was going to deny your orgasm but before you could complain anymore, Mark grabbed your neck and guided you towards his length, "Now stop complaining. Be a good girl and suck on it like the way Jeno is making you feel good."

Shoving his length inside your warm mouth, he let out a guttural groan and tears brimmed in your eyes. He pulled out a bit when you licked the tip and swallowed the length, hollowing your cheek and resting it on your tongue, teeth grazing over his red girth. He put a pressure on your neck, pushing himself more into your mouth and soon you felt Jeno's mouth abusing your leaking clit, squeezing your shut and you felt your body shaking. Your one hand supporting your body and the other one taking a hold of Mark's member while he was abusing your mouth.

You choked on his length when he shoved himself more inside of you and started thrusting his hip with a tight grip on your neck. Tears streaming down and body jolted when he yanks your head back, letting you breathe. You gasped for air and panting, "please...please...I'm near."

He scanned your face, biting his lip and groaning at your messed up face, "what you say, Jeno?"

Jeno muttered while his tongue fucking into you fast, "what?"

"Should we let her cum?"

You pleaded, "please."

Jeno groaned and sucked hard, making your stomach do turn and twist, "I don't know. Should we?"

"Yes...please." you mentally prayed because earlier you have already been denied so many orgasms and you don't know how to hold it anymore. Jeno again said, "First make him cum in your mouth and then only you can cum. Okay?"

Your teary eyes begged again, "please, mark. Please, cum for me."

Mark clicked his tongue, "be a good girl for me."

He again shoved himself into your mouth and started fucking you relentlessly like Jeno fucking your cunt. Your moans getting lost on his length and the way he gripped tighter on your neck, you were sure he was near and so was you but you knew you couldn't come until he did. Soon, he moaned out your name and hot liquid shooting down your throat and some spilling down your chin. He held your head back, "swallow it." you did and even licked your lips to taste the bitter taste on the lips.

He bent forward, his breath hitting your earlobes and he whispered, "now come for us, baby."

Your whole body shook, letting out a loud moan calling out their names and he kissed your shoulder, "good girl."

Jeno gripped your hips gently to ride out your high and planted you to his side. You were panting and resting on your palms and knees. "Don't think we are done with you."

Jeno's voice made you look at them and he got off the bed to stand straight, "come here." you crawled to the end of the bed and stayed on your knees. His lips shining with your juices and some falling down over his vest and he licked his lips and wiped his chin.

"You like my vest so much. then, Take it off on your own." you nodded and searched for the way to open it. Both of them admired your movements. Your flushed face, red eyes, marked skin and messy hair was not letting their eyes off from you. As soon as you got rid of the material, your fingers tugged at his jeans button.

He held your hand glared, "did I say anything else?" you stared at him and he pulled you up in a kiss. His kisses are always different from Mark in every aspect and this is why you realize every little kiss from them. Who is the one kissing you even when you're asleep. He sucked your lips, biting it down and sucking your tongue. He tries to be gentle but as soon as he gets a taste of you, he will lose control.

Gripping your jaw to suck hickeys on your throat and shoulder, he messily makes out with you. His grips were way more strong than Mark's because the older one becomes gentle now and often, but the younger one's grip doesn't falter ever. His other hand guided yours to his abs, finger tracing each bump and the muscle lining down to his jeans button. He tapped your hand to signal you to open it and you did it quickly, surprising the one standing beside you.

"So eager for him. Aren't you?"

Jeno pulled your head back by your jaw, "answer him."

"Yes. yes. I want you, Jeno."

He chuckled, pecking your lips and pulling down his jeans along with the boxer, "have patience. You will be getting me." his fingers entangled with your hairs, massaging your scalp. Your eyes closed and leaned to his touch, when he suddenly made you hiss with the sudden pull, "suck me. Come on, you can't be greedy now."

You nodded and attempted to lean forward, his grip became tighter to meet your face, "behave, y/n."

"Yes. I am not greedy."

"Good girl." Before you could have adjusted him inside your mouth, he thrusted forward, choking you in the process, he was slightly bigger than Mark and you had to use your palm to match both the rhythms, hollowing your cheek and teeth grazing while his tip hitting the back of your throat. Tears spilling from your eyes and your drools by the corner of your mouth, trailing down to the chin.

You felt a presence behind you, his hands exploring your body, roaming around, giving you feather touch with some occasional squeeze here and there. Your whole body jolted when he pinched a nipple above your bra. His chuckle was faint due to the loud groan and moans of the man in front of you. With a quick snap, your bra was undone and he was quick to fondle your chest and kiss all your bare back. His hands were playing with your stomach, tracing patterns when he took both of the nipples between his fingers. Pinching them and pulling them before releasing them when you were squirming. Repeating the same action all over again.

Jeno pulled you away and you gasped for air, drools sticking to your chin and trailing down the throat. Mark left one nipple to insert a finger into your hole and you moaned. You were adjusting to the new feelings of a finger inside you, when he shoved inside another one and started pumping in a full speed. You gripped the bedsheet tightly and Jeno slapped your cheek with his member, "don't think of coming before you make me cum."

And again, he shoved himself inside your warm mouth, feeling the satisfaction and pleasure again. He guided your head to his own liking, grabbing your hair and moving it in a rhythm and Mark was showing no mercy to your abused cunt and maintained his own pace, your body squirming and eyes shut close. "Look at me." Jeno's harsh tone made your eyes flutter open and you quickly looked up, meeting his eyes. "Keep looking at me." Mark pinched your nipple and the other hand was busy making you nearing your climax.

Jeno moaned loudly, not caring the neighbors would think someone growling inside your house and pulled himself out. "Swallow it." you tried to swallow the hot thick sticky liquid but some still spilled from your corner of the lips and trailing down your chin to your chest. "Do you want to come?" He noticed your struggle to keep eye contact and as soon as you nodded, he pinched your left out nipple, making you cry out. "Mark, stop there." he ordered and kissed your nose with a smile.

Mark was quick to stop and retreated his hand from your cunt. You whined and sobbed because of another denied orgasm. Jeno shoved off his pants aside before climbing on the bed and then when you noticed Mark had no clothing on himself. Jeno pulled your back flushed to his front. His member poking your lower back and Mark resting between your legs when he kissed your inner thighs and his member hanging limp in front of you. You gulped at it and met his gaze. You loved this. They knew about it. You loved edging and getting denied orgasms and they were well aware of your limits and if it was too much, you better knew how to use the certain word.

"Do you trust us?"

"Yes, Mark. I do. Please."He kissed your temple before smoothly sliding himself inside you from front and wrapped his arms around your shoulder, kissing down your collarbone and biting some sensitive areas. Groaning in your ear and licking it afterwards when you felt a cold sensation in your ass. Jeno was spreading the lube to prep you with a finger and then two when he suddenly inserted himself. Groaning in your other ear, both of them using you like a fuck toy and it was a whimpering and groaning mess inside the room. Jeno's lips and teeths were not leaving a single area to suck and his fingers kept rolling and pinching your nipples, sometimes turning your head around to kiss you.

Mark brought your face to kiss you again and other hand circling over the clit.

"So full, Mark. so full, Jeno." you were mumbling so many things. Jeno hummed in your ear, "I know. Take it like a good girl." you grabbed Mark's wrist which was busy down there, "please, Mark. Too much." he kissed your closed eyes, "shh...you are doing so well. Taking us so well."

The double stretch was burning you out and you were sobbing between them but their hot touch was building your coils inside you again. Their rhythm soon matched with each other and Jeno kissed the sensitive spot in the back of your ear, whispering, "come for us, baby."

Your head fell back on his shoulder and soon after both of them bottomed out inside of you, filling your two holes with their hot spilled seeds painting your walls. Jeno bit down on your shoulder and Mark bit your throat slightly when they hit the climax. Three of you were panting in the position. Neither of them pulled out from you, Jeno kissed your shoulder softly and Mark kissed your cheek, "look at me, y/n."

Your hooded eyes looked at him and he smiled sweetly, "let's clean you up. Come on."

You shook your head, not having a bit of energy to talk. Now it's Jeno who spoke up and held you still when you whined as Mark slipped himself out, "y/n, just stay awake for a while. Then we will sleep together. Promise." he kissed your head and he slipped himself out, you were nodding your head and tried to fall to your side but he swept you off the bed and stood up with you in his arms.

Mark entered the bathroom first to prepare for the bath and soon after Jeno followed him with you. Jeno took the shower by himself and Mark cleaned you up with him. In the meantime, you cleared your fogged mind and stared at both of them while dressing up into fresh and comfy clothes.

As the three of you reached near the bed, you climbed on it quickly and fell down on your back, staring at the ceiling in comfortable silence. Both of them followed you on either side and chuckled at your cute reactions. You hugged Mark and snuggled your face into his chest when he stroked your hairs and rubbed your back. Jeno turned you around and pecked your lips, "are you okay? Were we rough with you?"

You shook your head, "no. you both were perfect. If you were hurting me then you would have listened to me and stopped there."

He nodded and patted his bare chest. Neither of them were wearing any shirts, only in boxers but you were in a camisole and a satin shorts. You happily rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes against his heart beat, "can I ask you both something?"

Mark hummed and urged you to speak, placing a kiss on your shoulder and pressing himself to your back. You felt both of their body heat against your skin and it was the best feeling ever you could get in your life. Both of them together with you and no other tension surrounding you.

"Both of you cummed inside me. What if I get pregnant?" you rubbed patterns on Jeno's stomach. He stroked your hair and massaged your scalp. "So?"

"Are you both okay with it?"

Mark turned you around and smiled, "we will be more than okay. It will be so nice with your swollen belly and after a few months, a crying baby in the household."

"And then there will be two babies for us to handle, Mark." you hit Jeno's arm when he teased you. Both of their laughs match the pitch and you made annoyed faces at them. "Don't worry, y/n. We are okay with everything which you love. If you are fine with having a baby, we are happy too." Jeno smiled down at you.

Mark added, " we won't pressure you for anything. If you don't want one, then also it's fine. Just take it easy. No rush. I know you got this."

"I love you. I really love both of you."

Mark smiled, "I love you too."

"I love you too, y/n." Jeno caressed your cheek.

Yes, the love between you three is incomparable. You don't think if anyone else in this universe can ever make you feel loved like them. You just want to stay between them like this forever. If only you could sleep in their arms and forget all other worries from life, just you and them and your sweet dreams.

"Keep talking, y/n. I will have a nice sleep." Mark laughed at Jeno's statement and you glared at them before pressing your face further into Mark's chest when he pulled you towards him, blocking your attempt to hit Jeno who was smiling at your cute act. He finally hugged you from behind, with you three drifting off to sleep.

Atleast, the night was not as bad as you thought it would be.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

[open!]

1K notes · View notes

fuckmymunson · 6 months ago

Text

Confidential. — Eddie Munson.

☆ 18+, smut, lowkey hate sex, fingering. | word count: 1.2k

☆ my montly post ;) or maybe I'll find more inspo soon.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Can you leave me alone for five fucking seconds?”

“For what? So you can keep talking shit behind my back?” He asks back, crossing his arms. Leaning against the dirty bathroom wall, Eddie stares at you with a cocky smirk. He isn’t usually this confident, not around you at least.

“I don’t want the whole school to think I’m your fucking groupie, dude. Just leave me alone,” You bite back. You wish you could erase that smirk on his face. The anger is bubbling up your throat, burning your insides. “Just because I’m the only one who lets you get your dick wet, it doesn’t mean you can go around bragging about it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be bragging about it?” Eddie laughs, he has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t you think it would be a juicy conversation topic? You, little miss perfect, fucking the freak?”

“Shut the fuck up. Seriously— or I promise you I will beat the shit out of you.”

“Jesus, you kiss your mother with that mouth, sweetheart?” He mocks you again, again. Eddie is really testing your patience. Lowering his arms, he steps closer, his heavy boots tapping on the greasy linoleum. “I think we both know you look better with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock rather than talking shit.”

“Fuck you. Literally. I don’t even know why I agreed to this,” Done with this conversation that will surely lead to nothing, you grab the doorknob. “You talk a lot of shit when we are alone, but you are such a pussy when people bully you. Just say you don’t have the balls to man up.”

“Man up?” Eddie takes another step. He is willing to chase you if you dare to open that door. “Oh, sweetheart. You know what kind of man I am. The man who can actually make you come, not like those preppy fuckers that share you.”

Your head whips at his words. He couldn’t have possibly said that. Perhaps you are having a stroke. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, cutie. The same whores you talk shit with, talk shit about you too— behind your back, I might add,” His hand takes yours, gently removing it from the doorknob. Eddie bites back a laugh when he sees your expression, how could you be so oblivious? “Haven’t you noticed? Or are you that stupid?”

Shaking your head, you push him— or try to, at least— the action surprises him, but he doesn’t move an inch. Eddie quickly wraps an arm around your waist, pushing you against the wall. He knows what you need, wherever and whenever, he knows what you want. Your hatred has no fundament, you are just a dumb sheep that follows the horde, but he can’t blame you; there’s the need to fit… and there’s the need you can’t escape from no matter what.

“Come on, you know you don’t want to break our little deal,” He whispers.

“Let go of me,” You choke. “You are lying. They are my friends—”

“You know what they say, sometimes your enemies live in your own home,” Nobody says that, Eddie is just making it up to play with your newfound insecurity. “Perhaps you are a freak, just like me.”

Smashing his lips against yours, your hands grope his shoulders. The logical thing would be to push him, to yell and run, but you can’t. Whatever he has, is drowning you. Eddie can make you see stars, and the problem is that he is the only one. A thing that happened by a stupid mistake occasioned by the stupid join you agreed is now escalating and threatening to ruin your reputation— he knows that. You know that. Outside he is no one, but when you two are alone, he makes you feel like you are no one.

“You talk so damn much,” Your words are weak when his lips reach your neck, when his hands slide underneath your skirt. “I hate you.”

“I hate you too, pretty girl.”

Lifting one leg to wrap it around his hip, you bite your lower lip when his thumb traces the outline of your folds, rubbing the fabric of your panties against you. Keeping you steady with his free hand on your waist, Eddie bites down on your neck, relishing on the sweet cry that escapes your lips. He is so close he can smell your perfume, of course is the one he has been seeing advertised on TV. You fight so much to be perfect that it breaks you how pathetic your yearning is. He quickly finds your clit— now this is true, you know what they say… practice makes perfect— circling it slowly.

“You want to keep it so low, yet the only thing you keep low is your voice when I fuck you in your bedroom,” He taunts you. He hits you in your weakest spots. “Just accept it, I’m your escape— I don’t mind. As long as you are honest.”

“Fuck you,” You spit, buckling your hips when he pushes your underwear to the side. It is an endless battle, not only with him, but with yourself.

With a sigh, Eddie shakes his head, his curly hair bouncing softly. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

Sliding a finger, his cold rings make you gasp. He never takes them off, not even when he fucks you. Eddie says it makes him look cool, you say it makes him look idiotic— and you maintain that thought, even when he is adding a second finger and curling it, rubbing your tight walls slowly. Moaning louder, you clasp a hand over your mouth, if someone finds you, God, you’d be ruined; he, on the other hand, has other plans. Thrusting his digits slowly, Eddie groans lowly every time he feels you tightening. The moans you fight so hard to swallow are a confidence boost, and right now? He wants to hear them all.

“Take that hand off your mouth or I swear I will leave you here,” His threat makes you shudder. What games is he playing? “I’m being serious.”

Reluctantly, you agree. The smile that appears on his cheeky face shouldn’t be as pretty as it is. Now you are sure he is toying with you— yet you can’t be mad about it. Not when he is speeding up, not when he is nibbling on your neck, not when you can feel his erection grinding against your thigh. Being finger–fucked by the town’s freak is already embarrassing enough, so naturally, orgasming so quickly would be even more embarrassing.

“Why do you fight it?” Removing his fingers, Eddie clicks his tongue when you protest. “I could fuck you every day if you weren’t such a bitch,” Yanking your underwear down, he pushes you harder against the wall, spitting on his fingers and returning them to his favorite place. Your pussy greets them back greedily, squeezing his digits and wetting them until you are not sure if it’s dripping down his wrist. “At least I know one part of you actually likes me.”

“Shut up— Shut up,” you repeat over and over, keeping your eyes shut. Your moans flow freely now, urging him to continue. Eddie loves how pliant he can get you, how just a little pleasure gets you this dumb. “Fuck— don’t stop, please.” There it is, what he has been dying to hear.

“I wouldn't dream of, princess.”

#☆ anya writes!#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic

1K notes · View notes

ktownshizzle · 2 months ago

Text

Wild & Free | Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you.

Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Warnings: Mild angst, cursing lol, mentions of sex, pining and lots of it, reader is insecure, couple of idiots truly, covid didn’t happen, one mention of recreational gambling (we're in Vegas!), canon moments I botched for my own use, ginger Yoongi is a warning in and of itself, angry Yoongi, cliches ‘cos meh, possible inaccuracies about Las Vegas - been there once, but details used in the story are just from research. Also, I get that Las Vegas weddings might seem tacky to some. Coming from a background of traditional, elaborate ceremonies, the characters in this story are genuinely surprised by this simpler approach. After all, a wedding is really just about you and your partner, and that’s the essence we’re exploring here. ♡ If you can get on board with that, then let's head to the Tunnel of Love! Viva Las Vegas! 🙂

Word Count: 7.2k (approx. 30 mins.)

Posting date: August 31, 2024

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

"Yoongi, marry me!" You shout at the top of your lungs, earning laughs from the people around you.

On the other side of the room, a couple of other people shout the same catchphrase, including Kim Taehyung, who seems to get the most kick out of it out of all the members.

Coerced to do one of those Tik Tok dance challenges, Min Yoongi stands in front of the room, hides his face behind his hands and you watch in delight as he awkwardly sways his hips side to side. More cheers erupt and two seconds after he decides he was done.

"Hajimaaaa!" Your friend says to no one and everyone, cheeks burning as he stalks back to the chair he was occupying across yours.

You push his beer bottle towards him, "Good job, gramps."

"Fuck off," he says with no real bite, taking a long swig off his drink to cool off his reddened cheeks.

It's great to finally get some down time with the crew. After such a fast-paced, high production tour, everybody needed to blow off some steam. This Korean BBQ restaurant off the Strip was the perfect venue to get the team together for samgyupsal and drinks. The vibes are, as the kids say, immaculate.

You are already sufficiently buzzed so you sit down as Seokjin takes his turn to do the challenge. He really seems to be more into it than the man currently giving you a look.

"I heard you." He narrows his eyes at you almost accusingly.

"What? It's the new viral catchphrase," you shrugged. "Everybody and their grandma is saying it these days."

"Not their grandma."

"You should be flattered."

Stop, you thought he would say. But his response catches you off guard.

"Only ‘cause you said it."

And he has the audacity to lick his bottom lip, a ghost of a smirk forming.

Fuck. Your throat dries up. When did it get so hot here?

“And in case you’re wondering…” he leans forward, a dopey-ass grin now on his face. “The answer is yes.”

Record scratch.

Did he really just-

Thankfully, you recover.

“Stop playing,” you say, trying to sound casual. But your face probably betrays the internal turmoil happening in your brain. You fear the day will come that he will have caught on to the unshakeable something you have been harboring for the better part of the last decade.

See, there’s always been an unspoken tension between you and Yoongi, something neither of you ever addressed or acted upon. Perhaps, in your younger days, there were moments when you felt your friendship was on the verge of becoming something more. But then he debuted as an idol, and things took off, and you were robbed of time. With his group’s growing popularity and you managing his personal career, the possibility of exploring anything beyond friendship and your work rapport became even more distant.

You feel like a bug under a microscope the way he observes you with a lopsided grin and while you try to hold his gaze, this clown interrupts.

"If y'all done eye-fucking each other, some of us are heading back." A drunk Park Jimin says with a mischievous grin, eyes crinkling like crescents. You could almost throw up.

Your eyes shift back to Yoongi and he just blinks in that blank way he does and bends to collect his bag from under his chair, completely ignoring his bandmate.

‘Fuck you,’ you mouth to Jimin hastily. Just enough time before Yoongi emerges with his backpack and your tote, which he already slung on his own shoulder.

You try to take it from him, but he waves you off.

"We're in bus 2," Jimin sings-songs and walks off, looking every bit the trouble-maker.

Thing is, you made the mistake of confiding in Jimin once, last year. You got drunk after getting dumped by some guy you met on Bumble three dates down, though it really was the sting of learning that Yoongi took one of Psy’s backup dancers out for coffee, even if it was just casual, that pushed you off the edge and into a bar in Hannam Intersection. Coincidentally, Jimin was there with that cute idol from Shinee and some other guys, but he joined you when he saw you looking like shit.

After learning about your long-standing crush (thank God you did not drop the L-bomb), Jimin would occasionally tease you, much to your chagrin. He’s careful not to push things too far, but it’s clear he sees himself as a bit of a cupid. You keep telling him that nothing will come of it, but he just won’t let up.

You are scared for things to change between you and Yoongi, not when everything is just how it’s supposed to be.

Not when you believe in your heart that if anything would have happened, it already should have.

And you would snuff the last embers of the torch that you keep holding out for him if only you knew how.

"Drive-thru weddings?" Yoongi enunciates in English, with the slightest lisp that you have always found so endearing. As your tour bus passes by chapel after wedding chapel, he continues to wonder out loud. "People get married there?"

Namjoon turns his head to look at Yoongi from his seat in front. "Yeah, hyung. They don't even need to get out of their car. It's just like a McDonald's. But they get a marriage license instead of a burger."

“Really? And people do this? Like, randomly?”

“Yeah, some celebrities decided to do it that way, but I assume many people do, too. I mean, look how many we’ve passed already.” Namjoon says with a tiny grin, cheek dimpling.

"Mm." Yoongi hums and you're curious about that faraway look on his face as he stares outside.

“Are you interested?” You joke lamely, instantly regretting opening your mouth. Why do you keep propositioning him? You blame that ‘one for the road’ shot of soju you downed on the way out of the restaurant.

He studies your face, before he replies lowly, so only you can hear, “Are you asking?”

Fuck, he’s bold. He’s also a bit drunk, but everyone knows he can drink anyone under the table. You know this is not the first time he got weirdly flirty with you after one too many drinks, so you take it in stride.

“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” Hoseok's voice booms from the back and with a chorus of laughs ringing inside the vehicle, you take that as a sign that this is definitely just the effect of being in Sin City.

A few beats after and you steal a glance at Yoongi, finding his gaze transfixed at a sign that read: "The Little White Wedding Chapel".

Last day of the Las Vegas tour and while you are glad it is almost done, your heart aches as you remember that this is also your last one, ever. Your 60-day notice is already running, having tendered your resignation a month after LA wrapped up.

As great of a job as it is, your heart seems to always be at odds because of the lingering feelings you have for Yoongi. Everyday, you find yourself trapped in the limbo of unspoken feelings and missed chances. The endless “what ifs” weigh you down, and you can’t summon the courage to confront them. It’s not anyone’s fault but your own, and you hoped that stepping away from this life might jumpstart your next chapter, as BTS is also about to embark on theirs.

With the group taking a break for solo projects and gearing up for their military service, it seemed like the perfect moment for you to explore something different, too. Maybe finally open that cafe you’ve always wanted. Maybe you can also meet somebody, especially since your eomma has been on your back even more lately about giving her a grandchild.

You weren't planning to sever ties with Yoongi entirely, or at all. There’s too much history between you two to just walk away from the friendship. But you were desperate to let go of the emotional baggage.

The thing is, you have not told anyone. Not even Yoongi. Especially not Yoongi. It is highly likely that he will try to stop you and press for reasons, and you can't tell him that you’re in love with him, can you? Just… no. What a fuckin’ cliche.

You don’t know when you will be ready to tell him the truth, but it needs to be soon.

You find him on the side of the stage, eyes locked in on his phone that he held with one hand and you already can tell he is watching a documentary with the way his face is screwed up in concentration. His ‘watching a cat video’ face was infinitely more smiley, that's for sure.

He lifts his sleepy eyes up as you approach, handing you a latte that he apparently picked up for you from that place across the street, because the coffee from the catering ‘tastes like shit.’

Before you can say thanks, Yoongi exclaims, “Omo! Michael Jordan got married there?”

Your confusion must be written all over your face, because he quickly explains, “You know in one of those drive-thru wedding chapels we saw the other night. Wow. I can't believe Jordan did that.”

He pauses the video and turns the screen toward you, revealing a white building decked out with all sorts of decorations reminiscent of Valentine's day. The way he looks at you, expectantly, makes you feel like you should share his excitement, but you're a bit stumped. “Yoongi-ah, why are you watching this?”

He fidgets with a sheepish grin. “Well, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Korean weddings can be so complicated, you know? Hyung was really frustrated with all the traditions at his wedding.” He shrugs, still looking a bit embarrassed but trying to stay casual. “Here, it seems like you just need the right person. And maybe some courage. Okay, a lot of courage. I just— I don’t know, I find it fascinating.”

He nods to himself, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Totally endeared, you hop to sit beside him on the stage, bump your shoulder with his, and say, “Go on, press play.”

The tiniest of frowns that has settled between his brows smoothes out and he angles the screen more towards you before resuming the video.

Turns out it really is fascinating (Omo! Joe Jonas also got married there! But wait, isn't he divorced now?), so you watch a few more clips, before soundcheck starts.

You’ve always known Yoongi to have massive hyperfixations. In fact, you’re not at all surprised when that night during the concert, he even cheekily says to the crowd during his ment, “Welcome to Las Vegas, with the drive-thru wedding.” And of course, the audience eats it up, those wearing Shooky headbands, veils or holding “Yoongi, marry me” signs end up being the loudest.

But while you’ve supported all his previous mini-obsessions (League of Legends, Dalgona coffee, woodworking) until he over-indulged to the point of almost flushing it out of his system, you are not quite sure how else to help him with this one.

Unless of course, you… hah, you wish.

The tour wraps up successfully. The boys have different group and individual schedules before they return to Seoul. For Yoongi, a shoot for his photofolio, and some b-roll content for his upcoming documentary was on deck for him, you, and his crew.

The drive up to the desert was pretty uneventful as mostly everyone was asleep. You arrive sometime in the afternoon and immediately get to work in order to catch the golden hour. Yoongi has disappeared into the makeup trailer and you busy yourself with checking the preps.

The theme was glamping. Though Yoongi would never admit that that was the concept he approved. He would most likely say something more deep and poetic, that the setting is a poignant portrayal of his growth as a person and a metaphorical exploration of his artistry… Or something like that.

Things were running a little later than you like, which always happens when you are doing shoots overseas, so you volunteer to help with the set design. Placing some of the props near the camper van, you take a second to decide whether to use the metal cup or the ceramic mug, when a sleepy voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Set looks great. Good job."

You turn your head to look at Yoongi and wow his hair is orange.

The color of his favorite citrus and of course he looks sexy as fuck. He smells phenomenal, too–like mandarins with a hint of spice. You are in so much trouble. Seems your mouth is filled with cotton the way you are unable to make a sound.

“Yah! I spent hours on this new hair, you're not going to say anything?” he whines with a small pout.

You snicker at his cute expression, reaching out to touch the ends of his hair very lightly else the glam team unnies might scold you. “You look like a cat.”

“Ugh,” he groans, walking away with what you now realize is a stick of marshmallows in his right hand.

“No, Yoongi, it's cute,” You follow him as he stops in front of the bonfire, roasting the marshmallows over it briefly before taking a bite, still not placated by your words.

You decide to put him out of his misery. “You look good. Like really good. ARMY would probably even say sexy.” You inwardly cringe at the last bit–using ARMY to voice out your inner thirst, really?

Nonetheless, Yoongi's reaction is priceless. His lips stretch into a thin line, chin dimpling as he pretends to not enjoy the compliment that he very well fished for.

“Ok quit acting like an emoji and let me take your photos for IG.” You take your phone out and snap a few pics of him posing with the marshmallow, some without it. A couple of him grinning, gummy smiles on display, and you know you need to keep some of these for yourself when the inevitable comes and you won't see his face everyday.

“C’mere,” he pulls you to his side, arm going around your shoulder. A whiff of his musk has you swooning which you hope he does not notice.

Your phone is taken. He snaps a few selfies of you both and tsks when he sees your lock screen.

“Tablo-hyung, still? You know he's literally married and has a kid, right?”

You make a face and snatch your phone from his grasp. “Yah! As if you're not an idol and your face is not the wallpaper of thousands of people.”

“I think you mean millions.”

“Ass.” You try to shove him, but his hand closes in on your phone again.

Swipes and taps later, he seems satisfied and your phone is handed back to you, before he walks off without so much as a goodbye.

What did he do?

Wait.

Tablo is gone.

And the tableau in his place is one of the photos you just took with him. Eyes twinkling, smiles identical. The picture of a seemingly perfect couple.

Oh, damn. You really are a goner.

You send the pic to Jimin a little later. His response was unwelcome.

Jimin: You two have literal heart eyes for each other. So cute.

You: Not helping.

Jimin: Just tell him how you feel.

You: Again, not helping.

Jimin: What's your plan?

You: Do you really wanna know?

You ring him. Might as well tell somebody.

In between layouts, Yoongi films interviews for some magazines. You have complete faith in him and his media relations skills at this point. Smart, thought-provoking Yoongi can wow any interviewer, sometimes to the point where numbers have been slipped inside his coat pocket. Thank God this one is on Zoom, ‘cause you can’t deal with something like that happening right now.

You caught wind of something that he said during the interview and you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Sometimes, it feels like my life is just a sequence of obligations and schedules,” he tells the online reporter. “I can’t even remember the last time I made plans for myself. Being here in Las Vegas is refreshing. It’s like everyone is just living by their own rules. I don’t think I’m like that at all.”

"Do you want to be like that?" The reporter asks.

"Maybe..." he shrugs, sinking a bit lower on the chair he was on.

It was late and the crew was just winding down before packing up the set.

“How was your day?” he asks you with a soft smile. You can see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Not bad,” you say, taking a spot beside him on the picnic blanket that was still on set. He seems pensive.

“Did you ever think we would get this far?” he asks. “Couple of Daegu kids, now running around in America.”

“Who would've thought…” you say, observing him. His eyes were stoic, but you know he's got something else on his mind, something bothering him.

“You said something in your interview earlier.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Not bad per se, I just never heard you say it in an interview before. About not feeling like you can make your own plans. Like life has become a series of schedules.”

He hums and takes a sip of something from the mug he is holding. Your nose tells you it is definitely not hot cocoa.

“I’ve come to terms with it for the most part, you know,” he sighs looking out into the vastness. “But plans are good. Makes me feel like there is a point to all this.”

You follow his line of vision and sigh. You knew he was feeling a lot of stress lately. His life was not easy. You hate that you have to pile on top of it.

“We need to start planning D-day soon. It's going to be so busy with the album and the tour and all the content we have to make. Oh God, we might have to do fan calls, but I'm so embarrassed when I do it.”

You mimic his hum, getting disoriented with his use of ‘we’. He still doesn't know that word would be null and void soon.

“By the way, we gotta come up with a different name for the Youtube show. I can't pronounce it. Sich? Sush? Shit-”

“Suchwita,” you say, guilt settling in your tummy.

“...and we have that collab with Halsey for what’s that game again? Doom? No, Diablo! We used to play that before, remember? I think we might be doing a music video for that one.”

Just tell him. This would be the best time.

“Look, Yoongi I-”

“Thank you,” he suddenly says, in a tone so soft, and the way he punctuates it with your name makes your heart soar.

Your eyes snap to him, the slight pinks dusting his cheeks make him look like the teenage boy you met in music school.

“I’m not good at this - fuck, this is so awkward - umm but I've really been meaning to tell you that I appreciate you.” He continues, “You're really important to me.”

You try to fight back a smile at how elated you are, but can’t. And maybe he needs to see how happy this is making you. How happy he is making you.

In the years that you've known him there were two distinct moments that made you believe that just as you have been in love with him, maybe he was in love with you, too. And as you watch him rub his crinkled nose, trying to act chill but can't, you somehow convince your fickle heart that this might be the third.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, with all this talk about our ‘chapter 2’...”

“Yeah?”

“I know things are going to change, but I’m glad you’re still here. I honestly don't know what I'm doing half the time, but you, you give me direction,” he smiles, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Are you seriously thanking me for my constant nagging?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “I’m thanking you for being my friend.”

Oh. Ouch.

His lips keep moving and moving, and he is saying things with a fond smile, but your ears can’t register a single word. Except that single word: friend. Because, that’s all he sees you as, and that’s all you’ll ever be, and lest you need a reminder, that’s why you did what you did.

Disappointment cracks through your core and your lungs are suddenly devoid of air and you feel the urgent need to step away.

“Sorry Yoongi, I- I have to go.”

“Huh?” The light in his face fades, replaced by a frown and confused eyes that are watching your every move.

“Wait, did I say something? Tell me what's wrong.”

Don’t cry. Shit. Don’t cry.

“I've nothing to tell you.”

You grimace at how stiff you sounded but before you can rectify anything, your feet take you to the nearest trailer. You close the door and drop to your knees as uncontrollable sobs rack your body.

You rein yourself in after a few minutes, wiping your tears on the back of your sleeve. You fish your phone out from your pocket, the photo on your lock screen twisting the knife lodged in your heart.

You ring the first person on your recent contacts.

“I can’t do it, Jiminah.”

“What happened? Talk to me.”

You tell him how you were just talking and it was getting deep then he got sentimental and said thank you…

“For being his friend.”

A beat, then Jimin finally speaks. “He is such an idiot.”

“I can’t do this,” you say, with finality. “I’m going to finish this tour, but I’m really leaving. I can’t be around Yoongi anymore.”

You finally get a couple of days off and decide to dodge Yoongi after coming back from the desert. It’s oddly easy—he’s not seeking you out like he usually does. You left him hanging the last time you talked, and now you’re stumped about how to fix things. You and Yoongi never really fight, at least not seriously. You handle work stuff through Kakao, like sending over today’s recording schedule for the award show. He left you on read.

Jimin immediately calls out for you as you step inside the set. It was just one of the penthouse suites in the hotel you were staying in. You feel awkward as some eyes shift over to you as you barely had time to fix yourself, you just aren't in the mood.

“Hi,” you respond simply. “How's everything?”

Jimin glances over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze to find Yoongi staring blankly at the coffee table, a face of thunder.

“He knows. He heard you on the phone with me.”

Your heart immediately drops to your ass. “Shit.”

Jimin shrugs, a mixture of sympathy and amusement on his face. “Yeah, he’s pretty confused… and a little pissed.”

“Did you–”

“I would never,” Jimin interrupts quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s not my story to tell.” He pats your shoulder reassuringly. “Just talk to him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You’re not sure if Jimin’s optimism is comforting or just making you more anxious. You’ve spent years imagining every possible outcome, every scenario where he finds out you felt something deeper. And most of those scenarios end in heartbreak.

Either way, you know you’ve got to face the storm brewing in Yoongi’s eyes.

The shoot goes on without a hitch. You and Yoongi avoid each other like the plague, so much so that one of the makeup unnies takes notice. You downplay it, not wanting to be the subject of workplace gossip.

The schedule wraps up and as you get ready to leave, there is a light tap on your shoulder.

“Hey noona,” Jake says, looking a bit nervous but flashing a tentative smile. “Umm, a bunch of us are heading out tonight. If you don’t have plans, you should join us.”

Jake’s one of the newer camera guys, and while he’s been nice—always greeting you and opening doors—he’s barely scratched the surface of what could be considered a friend. He’s not just polite; he’s actually pretty cute. You’ve never really hung out with him before, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. It was one of the last nights you have in Las Vegas, and maybe, you should live a little.

“Ok. What time are we leaving?”

“Can we meet at the lobby by 10?”

Just as you’re about to respond, there’s a loud crash from the other side of the room. You catch a glimpse of Yoongi and Jin amidst a flurry of crew members rushing over. Whatever happened, it looks like it’s already being dealt with.

“10?” you repeat, still distracted by the commotion.

He nods.

“Got it,” you reply, trying to shake off your unease.

Jake adjusts his backpack and gives you another nod, his smile still lingering as he heads out. “Cool. See you tonight.”

“Ok…” you nod, a little dazed as you watch Jake fistbump one of the producers on the way out.

“Hot date?�� Jimin appears out of nowhere, casually sipping his Americano. His grin is a little too knowing—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

“Not really. He just mentioned that a few people were planning to go clubbing and asked if I wanted to join.”

Jimin’s eyes light up. “So, he wouldn’t mind if we tagged along, right?”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

Yoongi lifts his wine glass at you, smiling and unbothered.

Is this him extending an olive branch?

“Hey, Danbi, Eunchae…” he says, his gaze drifting past you to the two girls from Design. They look momentarily stunned, then offer hesitant waves, clearly not accustomed to this rare gesture from the usually wordless Yoongi.

Seriously?

This asshole.

A knot of frustration tightens in your stomach. Not only is he acting like nothing happened, but he’s also playing it cool, like he’s completely unaware of how much this is getting under your skin.

You’re sad, but now you’re kinda pissed, too. And the worst part of it all, he knows he looks fine.

Ginger hair slicked back to reveal the fresh undercut, He’s wearing some black shirt and black pants, with Jordans you would guess, and you know if it was any other man wearing that, he would have been stopped at the door.

You shift the strap of your dress slightly, conscious under his taunting eyes. The little number was something hot you recently picked up, the kind that might end up on somebody's floor.

“Are you going over to them,” Jake asks casually, leaning closer to your ear.

“No,” you say, breaking eye contact with Yoongi and moving to the next table where the others were, with Jake following closely behind.

A chorus of hellos started as you reached the table. There were a couple of girls from Hair and Makeup and some of the videographers, too. As if on cue, a tray of colorful shots are suddenly placed on the center console. The night is about to begin.

Jake has been incredibly attentive so far, but the truth is, it’s someone else’s attention that you want. You are hyper aware of Yoongi’s presence and it’s like having an itch you couldn’t scratch.

You spot Yoongi by the bar, alone and absorbed in his own world. As usual, he's oblivious to the pair of women casting lingering glances in his direction.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and make your way towards him. You notice his shoulders tense and stiffen as you approach, a clear sign of his unease, which almost made you want to retreat. But you know you can't go on another day of this unresolved tension with him.

“Yoongi, can we talk?”

He looks up, smirking as he swirls his drink. “Nah.”

Alright. You were not expecting that.

“Look, I just wanna explain–”

“It’s cool. You don’t have to,” he cuts you off, his voice casual but his eyes fixed stubbornly on the lowball glass he’s holding.

“But I–”

“You don't wanna be around me anymore, simple. Dunno why you're here.”

“Wait, Yoongi, you don't understand.”

“Don't understand? You never told me shit.” You notice how his fists are clenched, knuckles turning white. “I would have apologized if I did something wrong. Thought you knew that. Thought we were friends.”

It’s that word again. You chuckle bitterly. “Friends, I know. You keep saying that.”

At this he looks up at you, brows furrowed, but it was your turn to avert your gaze.

“‘Kay. You're leaving anyway, right? You can start now.”

“Fine.”

“Bye.”

You take a few steps, but something tugs at you, pulling you back. You glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch him watching you leave, wishing he’d somehow intervene, stop you from walking away.

But he isn’t there. His chair is already empty, the space where he sat now as vacant as if he’d never been there at all.

No one knows you better than Yoongi, and apparently no one else can hurt you quite like him, too.

The night is young. The club is electric. It is the hottest spot in town and you are hell-bent to experience it to the max.

Spirits and sugary shots tempered the hurt that settled in your gut after your encounter with Yoongi, now replaced with an urge to forget, to almost rebel.

The dance floor becomes your sanctuary. Shots of sweet, potent liquor flow, loosening you up and syncing your movements with the music. The crowd sways around you, a sea of bodies, but Jake remains a constant anchor.

His hands rest confidently on your stomach, your back pressed against his chest as you grind slowly against him. With one arm raised, you hook your hand around his neck, letting your bodies move in perfect rhythm. It's been a while since you let yourself go like this, but it's Vegas, after all.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You’re so sexy, noona.”

“Wanna get out of here?” The words leave your mouth before your brain can stop you.

Jake's eyes widen slightly, but he nods, quite enthusiastically actually, and you think: fuck it, he's cute and you are leaving the company anyway.

Disappointingly, the heat between you and Jake cools with every passing second as you make your way back to the hotel. Yet, you cling to the idea of seeing it through, driven by the need to prove a point: that a) your life doesn't revolve around Min Yoongi; and b) you are attractive and can pull anyone, even if Min Yoongi does not want you.

In another world, this would be a whirlwind of clothes flying off, bodies pressed against walls, hands exploring with urgency. But instead, you both enter the hotel room in silence, the air heavy with a tension that contrasts sharply with the passionate encounter you’d hoped for. The quietness between you feels like a stark reminder of how far you are from the fantasy you envisioned.

Jake notices the maze of thoughts you were lost in.

“Noona,” he says, placing his jacket over the arm of the couch. “Are you sure you want this?”

Want. It was hard to stitch words as a response to that. Not when your heart has only wanted one person for years.

To be fair you do want Jake in your bed tonight. Objectively, he is super attractive - his soft, wavy hair, those wide, doe eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass.

No time to waste. You turn to him, slowly unzipping your dress and letting it slip to the floor. “Does this answer your question?”

“Yes, yes, it does,” he walks in long strides over to you, yanking up his shirt in one fell swoop, revealing his toned stomach.

His hands cup your face and soon you feel his lips against your… neck? Ok, you can get into this. It’s not like you hate it.

He spends a few moments kissing you there. You close your eyes, willing your brain to shut off and just be in the moment.

“Can I touch you here?” One of his hands ghosts the side of your rib, inching towards the underside of your breast.

But before you can answer, loud knocks pound at your door.

“What the hell?” You hastily pull up your dress, zipping it up quickly. The furious raps continue and you can hear a voice behind it.

Jake follows you as you head to the door, picking up his tee from the floor and pulling it over his torso.

Bothered at the urgent banging, you don’t think to view the peep hole as you swing the door open, revealing

“Yoongi?” you squeak.

“Get out.” Eyes bloodshot, he strides past you and goes for Jake, who quickly tries to side-step him, moving a few steps back to create distance between them.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jake's eyes, wide as saucers, go to his elder then to you, before a realization dawns on him. “They said you weren't– Fuck, I swear I really thought–.”

"Get. Out." His voice is cold, laced with a fury you’ve never heard from him before. He grabs Jake by the arm, practically shoving him toward the door.

Jake casts a pitiful glance back, mumbling, "Sorry, noona," even though he’s done nothing wrong. But you don’t see it. Your hands are covering your face, trying to shield yourself from the shock and shame crashing over you as the scene unfolds.

“Fuck off, kid.”

And then the door slams shut.

Yoongi paces the room like a caged animal, his hand raking through his sweaty hair in frustration. His breathing is heavy, almost ragged, as if he’s on the verge of losing control.

You finally find your voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't just barge in my room like that!”

“I just did,” he fires back. “Why are you with him?”

“It's none of your business. But since you really wanna know. I was about ready to fuck him.”

He clenches his jaw, his voice strained. “Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!”

His hand shakes as he drags it through his hair again, his frustration barely contained. “Did you want him to?”

You can't understand why he’s asking these questions, why he’s reacting like this.

“Yoongi,” you exhale heavily, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi’s POV

Min Yoongi likes being in Las Vegas. The city buzzes with an electric energy, a stark contrast to his own chill demeanor. It’s a place where neon lights flash all night, and the unpredictable atmosphere makes him feel like a fish out of water—a thrilling kind of discomfort. He doesn't get why a city so loud and chaotic captivates him, but it does.

He was never one for outlandish, over-the-top spectacles, but the Cirque du Soleil show he watched with you and Hobi the other night instantly became one of his favorites.

He never liked recreational gambling, but the way you lit up with joy and hugged him tight after winning just 20 bucks at a random slot machine—it’s now one of his most cherished memories.

He never fared well in big, buffet restaurants, but if it means hearing you shout “Yoongi, carry meeee” (so stupid) as you beg him for a piggy back ride after downing five heaping plates, then maybe he can start looking up some buffets back home, too.

Las Vegas is free. Las Vegas is wild. Min Yoongi is not.

At least, not until that night when he tore past wild and plunged into nothing short of primal.

Straight out of a segment from The Animal Planet, he was a tiger, lounging contentedly with his pack. You were his queen, his chosen mate—though you don’t know it yet. But when a looming threat emerges, the alpha in him awakens, tapping into ancient survival instincts to protect what’s his.

First, he observed the threat.

Some guy from production. Jake. He’s HYBE's new ace videographer from Australia. Isn’t he younger than her?

Oh shit, this was the dude Yoongi actually handpicked to be the director of photography for his documentary. He might have to rethink this, depending on how things play out.

Fucker has his hand on your back and you shift subtly so his hand falls away. This is good, you don’t seem to be too into his advances, Yoongi tells himself, relaxing slightly on his chair.

Second, he assessed the situation.

Unfortunately for him, the situation escalated quickly.

Never in his life has he ever wanted to gouge his eyes out so badly. If he could actually shove his fingers in his eye sockets and scoop his eyeballs from his skull he would have done it right then. Yet somehow he couldn't look away. There was a sick, sadistic pleasure in watching you lose yourself on the dance floor. Like a voyeur, he stared, mouth slightly parted, breathless as your body grinds in time with the bass. He didn’t want to acknowledge the other man in the picture, the one that wasn’t him.

“You’re drooling, hyung,” Jungkook teases, and Jimin erupts in a fit of giggles, almost falling out of the bar stool.

Yoongi wants to deny it. But between the ache in his heart and the boner in his pants, he did not have it in him to lie. “Pass me a napkin, dipshit.”

Third, he sensed danger.

Unfortunately again, he had to use the toilet at some point. And as he returns to his spot on the balcony, he panics.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Jimin looked at him, warily. “They left.”

No, he thought. No, no, no they’re not leaving this club. They are not leaving his sight.

Fourth, he took decisive action.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through his body spurring him to run out the door, his phone on his ear as he tries to reach his driver.

“Hyung, stop.” Jimin runs to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“You know where.”

“Why?”

His head is pounding. He cannot think straight. And Jimin asking so many questions is so fucking annoying.

“You know why.”

Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “Why didn’t you idiots just talk about this like normal people?”

He doesn’t answer his friend, but he knows Jimin will be coming with him, whether he likes it or not. Because Jimin, nosy as he may be, is also one of the last real ones in his life.

Fifth, he confronts the threat head-on.

Which has brought him here, in your room, acting like the unhinged motherfucker he never aspired to be.

Your stern voice shakes him from his thoughts. “If you’re just going to stand there, just get outta here, Yoongi.”

“No.”

“No?” you let out a huff, a bitter sound cutting him. “You got some fuckin’ nerve. You ask me all sorts of questions, but you can't answer mine, huh?”

He has never seen this look in your eyes, and he starts to regret the hasty decision to come to your room.

Now, he was confronted with the first and very real possibility of you walking out of his life.

“Again, why are you here?” you ask, your voice a notch softer than it should be. It’s clear you’re exhausted, your tear-filled eyes an indication, wanting nothing more than for everything to make sense.

He cautiously pads towards you and gently reaches out for your hand. To his relief, you let him take it and he envelops it in both of his.

He takes one good look at you, committing your face to memory, because in his mind, this could be the point where your friendship ends.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment, before a confession finally spills from his lips. “Because I can't lose you.”

You blink and a lone tear spills free.

“I heard you on the phone with Jimin and what you said broke me. I keep thinking what I did wrong, but I can't figure it out. Then I saw you with that guy and I lost my shit. You know I'm terrible at expressing myself, but I need you, ok? More than I can say. Don't go. I can’t let you go.” He tugs you gently towards him, encasing you in his arms.

It didn’t take long for you to return the hug, pressing your cheek against his chest, and he is certain you can finally hear his heart that beats only for you. How he wishes he can summon the courage to say so. But the moment feels so delicate and he wants to tread lightly.

“Yoongi…” you sigh out his name and his heart races at how tenderly you seem to have surrendered to him.

“I’m so sorry that I was such a dick to you. Didn’t mean to ice you out. Honestly, that’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

“What is it that you want, then?”

“This.” He tightened his arms a tad against your frame to make a point, before pulling his head back, just enough to be able to see your eyes when he says, “You.”

Your breath hitches and he is unable to read the expression in your face. Was it just shock? Was it dismay? A slight panic bubbles in his throat. Did he misread the signs? Did he just blow it? But you felt so pliant under his touch, you still do. So he had to ask, even if your response might just end him.

“Y-you don’t want this?”

“No, I do, I do,” you say, almost too quickly, nibbling on your bottom lip afterwards. His thumb goes to caress your cheek, and you lean slightly into his touch.

‘Fuckin’ do something,’ his brain screams at him, the way it has for years now.

So many words are still unspoken between you two, but as he looks at the affection and the want in your eyes, he decides–fuck it, you can talk later.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he finally admits, his voice low but steady. "Is that okay?"

You nod, but hesitate. "I’m just—” you place a hand on his shoulder, as if to anchor yourself on him. “I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

He lets out a breath, a smile playing on his lips as he sees yours curve into a shy grin.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he murmurs as he closes the gap, his lips almost grazing yours.

“I don’t want to just be your friend anymore, Yoongi.” Your nose nudges his, inviting him to make the next move.

“You were never just a friend,” he whispers against the corner of your mouth.

“And after this,” you say, moving your hands to the back of his neck, “I might want you all to myself.”

His lips brush against yours, featherlight. It’s barely a kiss, just a fleeting touch, but it leaves you both craving more.

“Baby,” he breathes, “I’m already yours.”

A/N: What do we think??? Feedback is appreciated! Do we hear wedding bells, or nah? See you in Part Two! 🙂

Tag: @tea4sykes @mggv97 @jajabro @yooglefics @codeinebelle @tinytan-gerine @comingupwithacoolnameishard @dontcribuyabag @mizz-kraziii @angelfuzzy2 @marnz1990 @speedyhandsbonkpalace @amarawayne @coffeedepressionsoup @little-cherry01 @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @lolpanda94 @parapiop7 @wobblewobble822 @dazzlingjade @storyofafangirl @yoongrace @mzbtsreads

Thank you so much for reading, you beautiful human! xo

#myg x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x oc #yoongi fluff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fic

811 notes · View notes

ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months ago

Note

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.”

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown.

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better.

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her.

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted.

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum?

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise.

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.”

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear.

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?”

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits.

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.”

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks.

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.”

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.”

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.”

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment.

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

2K notes · View notes

cash-111 · 10 months ago

Text

Am I so bad?

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

CW: just some minor hurt-comfort. Friends to lovers. Reader is purely gender neutral except for the fact they have longish hair.

Synopsis: Theo is insecure after you snort at the idea of you being together.

Words: idrk but it’s very short.

A/N: sorry this isn’t very professional or aesthetic, or beta read. It’s my first fic on here, I’ll get the gist eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Would it be so bad?”

Having had your interest peeked, you looked up from the book you were so enthralled by. Theodore laid on your bed, his uniform messy and crumpled from the day’s commotion, looking up at your ceiling.

“Hm? What, Theo?”

Your eyes dropped down on the page again, turning it slowly, almost to savor the feeling of the paper on your fingertips.

“Would it be so bad” He repeated “if we… you know, were to date?” His hands rested on his chest, one of his thumbs smoothing the top of the other in a soothing way.

“What’s this about now?” You said, a playful tone in your voice. “You getting desperate, Teddy?”

His face scrunched up in one of his usual sarcasm-filled smiles, before it straightened into a normal one.

“Be serious for a moment, would you?”

“Okay…” you closed your book on your lap and sat up “So what’s this about?”

He rolled around too so he could face you, consequently scooching up with a few huffs. “Well,” he started “you made a really disgusted, wacky sound when those Hufflepuffs mistook us for a couple”

He gestured, a hint of a shrug. “And, you know, I wanted to know what was up”

You set your book on the table, your eyebrows raised.

“Oh my god. The Theodore Nott feels insecure? Check the date, I need to put this on my calendar!” You gasped jokingly, getting up in a hurry. You laughed as Theo caught your thighs and threw you onto the bed with him.

“I’m not insecure.” he reasoned, quite loudly.

“Mhm” you pursed your lips, trying not to let any more laughter slip, but he caught on and started tickling you as ‘his revenge’.

Once you were begging for him to stop, he finally relented, mumbling a satisfied ‘that’s what you get’.

As you caught your breath, a big grin still on your face, Theo turned away from you, his shoulders slacked.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” You came to rest a hand on his shoulder, your voice softer and worried. In turn, his hand shot up to rest on yours.

“Do you truly, actually, find me sickening?” He smiled, but his eyes were sad and his voice carried that hint of melancholy that let you know he was asking sincerely.

“What? Of course not, Theo.” You squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, and your other hand came to smooth over his back. “You’re the most handsome guy I know. I thought you knew that, that’s why I was making irony earlier” you explained.

He turned his head to look into your eyes. “I’m the most handsome guy you know?” His usual grin finally reclaiming his features.

“Psh, don’t flatter yourself.” you pushed him lightly. “But yes” you returned his grin with one of your own.

“So I do have a chance” he propped himself up more to face your body.

“In your dreams, Ted” you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, before patting his head and going to put up your hair.

He tsked and mumbled to himself. “Nei miei sogni facciamo già molto di più, tesoro” In my dreams we do a lot more already, darling (treasure)

“What was that?” You spoke up, busy looking at your image in the mirror.

“Nothing, nothing…”

#fanfiction #x reader #fanfic #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo x reader #friends #friends to lovers #slytherin x reader #hufflepuff reader #gryffindor reader #ravenclaw reader #slytherin reader #gender neutral reader

2K notes · View notes

uranometrias · 6 months ago

Text

nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

1K notes · View notes

emchant3d · 1 year ago

Text

It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week.

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it.

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger.

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing.

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?"

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep.

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching.

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2

#steddie #steve/eddie #stevexeddie #eddie/steve #eddiexsteve #steddie fic #my fic #listen i was in the mood for steve whump and i won't apologize for it #don't worry there's plenty of eddie whump coming in part 2 i promise

5K notes · View notes