#if you know more than me and i should add things pls let me know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lowkeyren · 1 month ago

Text

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar.

alhaitham.

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%.

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal.

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win?

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings.

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU.

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him.

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you.

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with.

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away.

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway.

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.”

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó… nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you.

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake.

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow.

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath.

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window.

alhaitham.

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why?

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you.

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears.

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot.

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from.

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile.

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you.

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today:

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you?

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still.

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!”

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.”

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.”

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?”

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening.

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her.

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially. “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could.

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions?

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE.

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl.

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance.

alhaitham.

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave."

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction.

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold.

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable.

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you.

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you."

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear.

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically)

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket.

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting.

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN.

To [Name], I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise. You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you. If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly, Alhaitham.

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it.

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay.

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so?

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours.

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.”

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue.

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops, until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm.

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin.

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it.

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub.

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?”

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?”

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.”

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly.

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—"

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes

tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy

arabic — @ughscara

chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

pspspss check out the cool fanart / comic based on this fic here by @rei-plswork 🤍

MASTERLIST.

4K notes · View notes

giannaln4 · 2 months ago

Text

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day seventeen.

Sub Lando (2.9k words)

summary: People would never take Lando as someone who surrenders control during sex, but they definitely don't know how good he can be for you when he does.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, sub!lando, oral (male receiving), thigh riding, unprotected sex, overstimulation, language. (pls let me know if there is anything else I should add!).

Lando liked being the one having some type of ‘control’ during sex. Not that he took over your entire body, but he was definitely in charge. This is why it took him by surprise when he realised how much he loved surrendering to you.

It happened gradually, but the first time you called him a ‘good boy’ something lit up inside of him.

"Do you like it when I call you a good boy?" You asked, still in a low and sexy voice but genuinely curious as your hips slowed down a bit.

He just nodded, not being able to get his words out, but you shot him a look that he knew what it meant. "Yes," he stammered. So from that moment on, you always tried new things with him, of course making sure he was totally okay with it.

The stress of this season is really what encouraged him to let go a little, letting you take the moment and make of it whatever you wanted. That was the situation he found himself in at the moment.

In the middle of a heated kiss, your hands started travelling all the way down to his pants. His breath itched, so you pulled away for a second. “Is this okay?”

"Yes," he replied right away, making him seem a little desperate.

You left a trail of wet kisses leading to his neck, sucking his sweet spot and making him moan. "What do you say?" You asked. He didn’t say anything at first, but you repeated the question in a more demanding tone.

"Please," he finally replied in a shaky breath. Your hand continued to go down, your teeth now softly biting his thick neck. He closed his eyes for just a second, but the shuffling of the bed as you went under the covers to play with the hem of his sweatpants made him open them again, looking down as you disappeared.

You started massaging him over the layers before sliding your hand under his briefs, and at that point he didn’t care about the noises he was making or how desperate and needy they sounded. "You're so pretty when you make those little noises, baby," you whispered.

He swallowed hard as he started to sweat everywhere, hands falling to his sides to fist the sheets. He needed you to do something, and the fact that you were taking your sweet time was killing him, but not so deep down, he loved it.

Finally, you instructed him to lift his hips for you, getting rid of his bottom clothes and making his needy cock stand before you. You smiled at how quick you got him to that as you kicked the covers so he could see what you were doing to him.

You decided to tease him a bit longer, so you admired his cock that was just a few centimetres away from your face, rubbing your thumb over his tip as you watched his eyes widen. He breathed a sigh at the contact, the pressure in his stomach releasing just the smallest bit at the relief. You didn’t break eye contact once; god, you loved to see the effect you had on him.

After just a moment, your hand gripped at his base; your cold hands against his hot skin caused a hiss to leave his mouth as you curled your small fingers around his thickness. You laid your cheek on his thigh, watching each pass of your own hand over his cock.

“Do you want me to take you?” You asked him, expecting an obvious answer from him, but you had to repeat the question when you didn’t hear a single word fall from his mouth. “Mhm, do you?”

“Yes, please,” he replied in a desperate tone, his hips almost betraying him, but he knew better than to get ahead of himself.

A smirk appeared on your face. You positioned yourself better between his legs, finding a more comfortable position as your mouth slowly approached his cock, the anticipation making him take in a breath and his grip on the sheets tighten.

“Such a pretty cock, aching just for me,” you mused. He let out a shaky whimper. “Why don’t you take my hair instead? We don’t want it to get in the way, do we?”

He pathetically nodded, his hand immediately flying to your hair and making a ponytail with his fist. “Like this?” He asked, as if it were the very first time you were giving him head.

“Yes, baby, just like that.”

You took his base and your fingers barely connected around his cock, a sight that made him moan on its own. He was looking down at you with his eyes begging for more, his breath staining when he felt the spit you had collected in your mouth go down his thickness. You pressed your soft lips against his head, opening your mouth a little wider when you started to slide down his prick.

A choked moan left his throat, every part of his body feeling heavy as his grip on your hair loosened a little. You took him out of your mouth to look up at him. “You have to keep my hair in place, remember?” He nodded his head, his mouth slightly open. “Good boy.”

You went back and took him again, hollowing your cheeks around him as your head bobbed painfully slowly. You repeated the motions a few more times but never fully pulled back, and he could feel your warm tongue at different spots and his precum glossing over your lips.

The entire time he was trying his best to stay in place; he knew he had to, but it seemed nearly impossible with how good you were making him feel. He let out a soft moan as your head continued to pump his base to meet with your lips, and as your pace began to quicken, the more desperate he was getting for a release.

It was taking everything in him not to beg you for more, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to try and calm his urges. Any other time, and if the roles were reversed, a tighter grip on your hair or a subtle push would have done it. He let out a long breath; he needed more, but he knew he had to be patient, but a particularly good suck made him involuntarily buck his hips up a bit. His eyes shot open as your hand lightly smacked the side of his thigh, warning him.

“Sorry, sorry, I- I’m sorry.”

You decided to let it pass and continued to take him, and he was repeating in his mind he had to be more careful, but it was hard with the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips and your spit coating in his cock.

He was thankful when you started to go faster and deeper; you were sucking and licking repeatedly, your tongue tracing the vein along his cock as the weight laid heavy in your mouth. The pressure in his stomach was tightening with each pass, letting both of you know he was close.

He almost begged you to keep going, but the words ‘don’t stop’ got stuck in his throat, and a loud whimper replaced them. You had done that before, taking away the pleasure just moments before his release, but you weren’t planning on doing that today, not when he was being so good for you.

One of his hands fell over his thigh, his nails digging his skin every time he felt his tip brush the back of your throat. The feeling of your spit drooling down onto his balls was what pushed him over the edge, and there was nothing he could do about it but cum.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming," he moaned, and your thumb circling his thigh gave him the permission he was waiting for. It only took a couple more passes of your soft lips before he was shooting his release down your throat, his eyes screwing shut as his mouth repeated your name like a prayer.

You worked him through his orgasm, licking and swallowing everything he was giving you. Once you took all of it, you pulled back, the smallest lick of your pink tongue rolling over his head to collect the last drop of cum that was still there, making him squirm. Another chocked moan escaped his mouth when he saw a thin line of spit and cum that was connecting his cock and your lips before breaking and falling over your chin.

Your gaze was glassy, lips swollen, and hair a bit of a mess when you silently asked him to release it, but he swore that it was the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes on.

“Do you feel better, baby?” Your voice was as soft and innocent as ever, only adding to the filthy scene.

He swallowed hard before answering “yes.”

You went on your knees as your hands rested on his thighs, softly squeezing them as you tried to read him. He already looked spent, but now it was your turn.

“Do you think you can take me?” You asked him as you quickly got rid of your clothes.

He didn’t even have to consider it, and even though he was still recovering from his orgasm, he nodded. He watched you climb on his lap, your dripping centre placed on his right thigh as you caught his lips in a deep kiss. He moaned at the taste on himself on your tongue, hands instinctively falling on your waist.

You knew he was still sensitive, so why not give him a little more time to recover while you used other parts of him to get off? You started rolling your hips softly, your pussy getting in contact with his thigh.

His entire body tensed when he realised what you were doing, his jaw dropping as he threw his head back against the headboard, whiny pants coming out of his mouth while your lips were still hovering over his, unable to keep kissing him. Anyone would think he was getting some kind of pleasure at your actions, and if he was being completely honest, he was.

Your juices were starting to coat his thigh as he looked down at how your pussy was dragging along the surface. “Don’t want me to kiss you, pretty boy?” You teased him, making him look back at you and you could see him trying to speak, but no words came out of his mouth.

He got it together and continued kissing you, enjoying the way the bed was creaking at your movements as they got quicker. You weren’t actually planning on finishing on his thigh; you needed him inside you, and by the looks of his cock, that’s also what he needed, but you couldn't deny how much it turned you on to see him lose his mind at you using him to pleasure yourself.

You decided to keep it going for a little longer, pressing yourself down harder as he tensed it every once in a while. A moan escaped your lips, making him stammer a soft ‘fuck’ into your mouth.

“Want me to ride you now? Do you wanna be inside of me?” You asked, pulling back as your fingers found the hem of his shirt to take it off, lifting your hips to hover over his cock once you threw it somewhere in the room.

“Yes, please,” he whimpered, and the loud moan that ringed in your ears when you grabbed his base to guide it to your entrance let you know he wouldn’t last long.

You lowered yourself, nails digging on his shoulders when you took him completely. “Be a good boy and play with my clit.” You whispered, eyes locked with his.

Not even a second later, one of his hands left your waist and made its way to your clit, his fingers rubbing hard circles as you started to bounce on him.

It was impresive, really. He never in a million years thought anyone would have him in the palm of their hands the way that you do, and yet there he was, following every instruction that left your lips, but he enjoyed every second of it. Your moans joined his when you found the perfect angle, his cock moving inside you just the way you needed it to.

You were wrapped around him just right, keeping him warm and wet as you picked up the pace. He could feel his tip kissing your cervix every time you came back down and he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting up, not once, but twice.

“I need you to be still for me. Can you do that, baby?” He swallowed hard, nodding as you kept going. His head fell back again, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. “You are being such a good boy. Look at how your pretty cock disappears inside me.”

He opened his eyes and looked down; his hand was covering part of the view, but he could still see it. You loved the look on his face more than anything else, eyebrows coming together any time you squeezed him.

It was hypnotic seeing you bounce on his cock as it disappeared and reappeared in your cunt. His eyes travelled up your body, his lower lip getting trapped between his fingers when he got to your boobs.

“Do you like what you see?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, but he then looked at you and released his lip to reply. “Yes.”

“Take one.” And he did, as soon as you asked him. His hand fell on his favourite one, squeezing it slightly before playing with your nipple.

He was proud when you moaned loudly and your grip on his shoulders tightened, your head falling back for just a moment, but you liked to keep your composure in these situations. You looked back at him, catching his lips in a kiss.

He was a mess under you, sweat covering his body as his throat vibrated every time he was deep inside you, and as your movements began to quicken, he felt that familiar feeling starting to form.

Lando pulled back from your kiss, a loud moan leaving his lips. “Ah, fuck. I´m gonna cum,” the hand that was on your clit stummbled for a moment, his voice shaky and his whimpers getting more consistent.

“Hold it a bit longer, yeah?” You purred, ignoring his whines.

“Mhm, I can’t,” he cried, his legs trembling and his lower abdomen spasming.

“Yes, you can. I promise you can,” you reassured him, your hips moving more freverishly as you chased your own high. He was fighting back his orgasm for dear life, praying he could hold it long enough for you, but you just felt so good.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to do it; you could practically feel his cock twitching inside you, and the way your pussy would naturally clench around him, you knew would just bring him closer.

But he still tried — for at least a minute, that was. You felt his cock throb as he moaned, tossing his head back and a whimper escaping the back of his throat as he got to his second release.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleaded with teary eyes as his hips pushed up a little, but you didn’t mind anymore, you just let him get through his orgasm.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” you said, rubbing one of his cheeks softly, but your movements didn’t slow down. Instead, you picked up your pace even more, the sticky liquid inside you only encouraging you to get your own orgasm.

You were well aware it was too much for him; he was at his second orgasm already, but you were proud of him for taking it like a champ. As you gripped his shoulders tighter for stability, your hips moved back and forth at an angle, and you were insanely grateful that he continued rubbing your clit through it all.

You could feel it coming, so you started pressing down harder near your release to help his cock hit your g-spot every time as louder moans escaped your lips. “I’m almost there, baby,” you groaned, your clenching walls making him whine at how sensitive he was.

Then, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you came on Lando’s veiny cock. Walls fluttered and your back arched, making your head fall on the crook of his neck, which triggered a third orgasm out of him, even more cum painting your velvet insides as he cried, eyes shut the louder his moans got.

Once your orgasm was finished, you fell forward completely on his body as you lifted your hips to slip his cock out of your pussy, he was so sensitive and overwhelmed, and your contractions that were happening post-orgasm brought him slight pain.

Your heavy breathing was matching his, your hand caressing his hair as you whispered sweet nothings to his ear.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. You did so good for me, so so good,” you whispered as you pulled back to look at him, your lips kissing the tears that managed to escape from his eyes.

He opened his eyes slowly, offering you a sweet smile to let you know he was okay.

Once you both recovered, you got up and ran you both a warm bath to share before getting into some clean sheets and going to sleep after a long day.

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

#giannaln4 kinktober #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris one shot #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #giannaln4 writes

770 notes · View notes

parfaitblogs · 3 months ago

Text

bad idea right? ❀ s. reid x reader

in which hooking up with your ex is probably not a good idea... right?

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/smut (18+ mdni) tags: porn with plot. reader's mentioned wearing a dress. fingering. kind of fade to black p in v. i think im incapable of writing no d/s dynamics so soft dom!spencer my beloved. i don't mention protection but he wrapped it just trust me guys. really awful decisions are made. word count: 3.9k a/n: i know i KNOW i said im writing fluffy smut but i simply cannot help myself... anyways this has been in the works for far too long (months...) but i have a lot of ideas for this dynamic/pairing so if we want more pls tell me 💗💘💕💕💗 i will do it!!! maybe im already doing it!!!!!💗💘💗💘💓don't fuck ur exes and thank u again for 1k ily

"Hey."

There was a beat. Then another. By the third beat your heart had started stuttering in your chest and your adrenaline-induced activities had caught up to your brain. You were slowly sinking into yourself under his gaze, that probably wasn't scrutinising, but definitely felt that way. Regret pooling in your stomach because yes, this was an absolutely awful idea, and he had clocked it within the twenty minutes it took for you to get here after his last text.

His last text that did technically say you shouldn't come over, but if you did he wouldn't leave you stranded out in the hall. Such a gentleman, you had thought.

"I said you shouldn't come," he chastised, and your legs wobbled beneath the weight of your regret.

"You also said I could—"

"—As a courtesy," his voice was firmer than you remembered him ever being, and your heart stuttered uncomfortably in your chest at the sound of it.

"Well don't add courtesy messages if you don't want me to take them seriously," you retorted, and your arms crossed over your chest.

He was silent for a few moments, gears turning behind his eyes, deciding if he should send you home or let you in. Then, he was stepping back, and gesturing for you to come inside — and you were.

Admittedly, six months was a long time. Being here at all is risky, and there was that fear of there being a girl sitting curled up on his couch, watching an episode of something Spencer had bribed her to watch. And maybe if you were any more sane, you would not be carefully analysing every inch of his apartment. Searching for — and expecting there to be — someone residing in spaces you had once found comfort in.

But; no one. Then you decided that thought was stupid, because Spencer Reid was not (stupid), and he wouldn't have asked you to come to his apartment if there was a girl there.

"Why are you dressed up?" he asked you, eyeing the dress you had on, even as he brushed past you to head into his kitchen.

"Had a party," you replied, clasping your hands behind your back, watching him walk around his apartment with so much ease. Maybe this was only awkward for you.

"Is that why you messaged me?"

"No. No. I didn't drink," you quickly said, shaking your head, immediately clocking where his own thoughts had wandered off to.

He nodded his head, leaning against his kitchen counter, rubbing his palms together as he studied the marble countertop, seemingly needing to find his words. "Then why did you?"

Your lips parted, silence settling between you two for a few moments longer, unsure if your internal turmoil from the night you had been having should be something for his ears or not.

You decided it was. "Everyone's in relationships. And all their partner's were there with them at the party."

"And you were alone."

"Yeah."

He slowly nodded his head, his gaze settling on you again. "You were lonely."

Your shoulders shrugged, your own eyes dropping to the floor as embarrassment crept up your spine uncomfortably. "I missed you."

"Don't."

"What? Miss you?"

"Yes," he said, voice strained enough for your stomach to flip. "That isn't fair."

"I know."

"You're the one who ended things."

"I know."

He was silent then, his hands dragging down his face, pausing to dig the pads of his index fingers into his eye sockets. He sighed, his arms dropping by his side heavily, eyes returning to you. Again.

"You can't do this," he grew firmer, the sudden tone of voice causing an uncomfortable dull ache to form in your chest.

"Do what?" you asked, quietly.

"Come see me every time you feel lonely."

"I don't come see you every time I feel lonely."

He bore holes into your face, eyes meticulously committing features to memory, before he straightened his shoulders, exhaling through his nose. "Don't make this a habit."

"It won't," you said, quickly, a promise you both knew you couldn't make truthfully.

Hesitantly, he nodded his head towards his couch, and despite the blaring alarm in your brain telling you to just go home and forget about it, your feet carried you over to it. Sinking into the plush of black leather you had sat so many times before, the fabric cold against your legs.

His face softened involuntarily, staring at you, heart achingly vulnerable and small, tucked into the corner of his couch. It almost made it easy to forget the past six months and everything leading up to the breakup. Almost.

He stayed standing, as a power move or because he was simply awkward, you didn't know anymore. The man you were currently sharing air with did not seem the same as he had half a year prior. That hurt.

Sitting up straighter, you clasped your hands in your lap, fixating your gaze on the coffee table in front of you. "I'm sorry."

He didn't respond for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by your sudden apology. Then, feet shuffling that indicated he was walking away from the couch, and your heart sank to your stomach.

"For what?" he asked, his voice gruffer than he had intended.

Your breath hitched. "Breaking up with you, I guess."

Too many memories filled your mind from what had happened, and you felt the guilt you had suppressed for months crawl its way back up your spine.

"And you think sorry can make it all okay?" his voice had a hint of bitterness in it, and you couldn't even blame him for it.

"No. Obviously not," you said, shifting on the couch to turn your head to look at him, fixating on him as he attempted to busy himself with rearranging the books on his desk. "Can you come here, please?"

His movements paused, and he lifted his gaze to you. There was a silent battle between your eyes, before you inevitably won, and he nodded, letting go of the hardback book he was moving and instead walking over to you on the couch.

"I feel awful. For the way I left," you told him when he found residence on the other end of the couch, the distance technically small, but to you, seemingly massive.

"You didn't seem upset when you left."

"I was. Please believe me."

He was no longer looking at you, but you were at him, and there was a disapproving expression on his face that told you he simply didn't, despite the quiet, "Okay," that fell from his lips.

Unsure of what else to say, you let the silence encase you, instead flickering your eyes around the apartment, attempting to pick out minuscule changes he had made since you'd moved out. Nothing insane jumped out to you, other than the lack of your presence. There no longer being a collection of your own books on his bookshelf, brightly coloured trinkets not cluttering the kitchen countertop anymore. Which was fine. Even the items you had left here unknowingly, you hadn't expected to still be residing in his apartment.

When your gaze settled back on him, you found him staring at you already. Your lips pulled into a small frown, while his parted, breath catching as if about to say something, then stopping.

"You look pretty," he settled on telling you. And if you were any more stable, maybe your heart wouldn't have flipped in your chest.

"Thank you," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burn slightly.

Despite the fluster such a simple compliment brought you, you couldn't look away. And it seemed neither could he. Staring at each other for ticking minutes, until you were finally breaking the brick wall of tension and standing up.

"I shouldn't have come," you told him. "You were right."

"I should agree with you," he replied, watching your every movement. Even as you halted your beeline towards his door, confusion creeping up your spine. He had noticed it.

You turned back to him. "But you don't."

"No. I don't," he agreed. "We ended abruptly."

"I left."

"Yeah."

It had been a huge misunderstanding, in the grand scheme of it all. A misunderstanding you had logically worked out after a week of dwelling on it all, but then had far too much pride to reach out to him again. Instead, allowing the remnants of your relationship to rot away in the back of your mind, never to be touched again.

Until you were violently reminded just how much you had thrown away that night in a room full of happy people.

Letting your shoulders soften, you trudged back over to him, standing rather awkwardly in front of him on the couch. Not that it felt awkward. You decided awkwardness was impossible when Spencer Reid stared at you like you were the sun materialised in his living room — the same way he had when you were still with him. And after six months of not seeing him, and an entire awkward conversation later, you finally wondered if anything had actually changed at all.

How you felt about him certainly hadn't. Eyes fixated on him like he was going to disappear if you even twitched, and you had the fleeting thought of kissing him. Which then turned into a recurring thought, until you were actively fighting the thought because this was not your boyfriend and kissing him was quite possibly the worst thing you could ever do.

But God, did you want to.

"I resented you for a long time."

You ignored the guilt eating away at your heart, and the hurt that settled in your stomach. You deserved his resent.

"You don't anymore?" you asked, voice choked up from the thick ball of a sob caught in your throat.

"No," he shook his head. "I don't know what I feel anymore."

You nodded your own head wordlessly. "That's fair."

He exhaled sharply, and his fingers pressed into the inner corners of his eyes. "You shouldn't be here."

"So you've said."

"No, I mean—" he cut himself off, lifting his gaze back to you. "I have things I want to do, that I will regret."

"With me?" You already knew the answer.

"Yes," he confirmed anyways. "And we shouldn't."

"We definitely shouldn't," you agreed.

He stood, dropping his hands by his sides, and you feared for a moment he was going to kick you out, just for the sake of his own sanity. Maybe it would be better for the both of you if he did that.

He didn't.

Instead, you learned quite quickly that he was battling the same internal conflict you were. And maybe he was attempting to ignore it; same as you. Maybe he had lost that war and that was why he was acting on those terrifying impulses.

"I want to kiss you."

You were mostly shocked the words hadn't come from you. But by the time you had registered that fact, you had also registered you were nodding in agreement, followed by your consent, and he then was kissing you.

And it was like no time had passed at all.

His lips on your own were as desperate as you remember — even in the quieter mornings he would kiss you like you'd disintegrate beneath him, never to be seen again. And, with matching his desperation, you found his knees buckling as they hit the edge of the couch, and he was coaxing you down onto it with gentle hands on your hips.

Abiding his physical request, your knees dug into the cushions, on either side of his body, and he was stuttering through breaths, lips detaching from your own. Your protests about it died on your tongue quickly as he kissed down your jaw and over the skin of your neck — delicately, for he had always been keenly aware of how sensitive the vessels and nerves in your neck were.

"You definitely haven't drank tonight?" he mumbled against your skin once his lips had reached the top edge of your dress.

"No," you confirmed with a shake of your head, and he let out what seemed like a sigh of relief — you didn't know if feeding into that idea was good for you mentally or not.

His fingers trailed up the length of your spine, your back arching on impulse as goosebumps arose on your skin. Tender hands found the thin straps of your dress, and his head lifted to look at you again. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, content flooding over you as he did as he had intended, and you were slipping your arms out of the straps of your dress.

"This is such a bad idea," he mumbled, and all you could do was hum in agreement, for he was still pressing kisses along your skin down past your collarbone.

Maybe it was the lingering thought that you shouldn't be doing this that egged you on. The knowledge that your friends would probably consider a violent end for you (and him) once they found out. That this was bad, and you were going to regret it the second it was over.

His hands dropped back to your hips, and you searched for his lips again with your own, kissing him once more. Your dress bunched at your waist with help from Spencer, and hands that grappled at your ass tugged you impossibly closer.

"Are you actually going to hookup with me on your couch?" you murmured against his lips.

"Where would you prefer us to be?" he asked you, tilting his head back so he could see you once more.

"Your bed."

If he disagreed with your suggestion, he hid it behind a nod, tapping your thighs so you could climb off of him. Which, you did, leading him towards his own bedroom, similarly to all the ways you had done it before. He tried not to dwell on that.

"Have you been with anyone since we broke up?"

Your voice was filled with an insecurity you wished to burn as you climbed onto the bed. The sheets so familiar you felt like crying.

"Do you really want the answer to that question?" he asked, positioning himself over you, fingers placed at your waist.

"No," you decided, a response he knew you'd reply with. "But I guess that is an answer within itself."

"I guess," he agreed, head ducking back down to kiss over your shoulders and collarbones.

"Were they good?"

"I'm not answering that."

"So they were."

He said your name, chidingly, nipping at your skin. "If you want to do this, I need your focus to be here. Not the other people I've had sex with."

"Okay. Sorry."

He only hummed as a response, the hand on your waist dropping past your hips, gently parting your legs and running his fingers up the skin of your inner thigh.

Everything he did felt hauntingly familiar, and easy. As if the past six months had been nothing more than a bad dream, and the man who was above you, pulling your underwear down your legs and hiking your dress up to your waist, had done this twice in the past week already.

You'd resonate in that fantasy for as long as you could.

You squirmed as he brushed a finger through your folds, and he smiled, his mind no doubt reminding him of all the times you had done that before.

"Take your time," you muttered, bitterly, as he repeated the gentle ministration a few more times.

"I will," he bit back, though the amusement in his eyes as he met your gaze again told you he was similarly as impatient. "I'm just figuring out what makes you feel good."

"You've forgotten?"

"No," he shook his head, the word flying off his tongue as he circled your clit with his finger, with a frustrating expertise. "I'm reminding myself."

"I like being kissed."

He laughed, quietly. Your heart warmed in your chest, while his lips brushed delicately against yours once more. "Thank you for the reminder."

"Of course," you said, and he was then swallowing a moan as he kissed you, pushing a finger into you at the same time.

His eyebrows knitted together, something you only make out because his lips have tugged into a frown and you were pulling back to peer at him — only to be coaxed back into a kiss by his searching lips. You decided not to ask why he's confused. Or concerned. Or whatever the expression he was making was for.

"Spencer," you breathed out when he had kept his finger still for too long (in your opinion), and he's quick to mumble an apology and start thrusting his finger.

Whether he was more conscious of the sounds you were making, or simply just wanted to kiss you, you didn't know. But his lips stayed connected to yours as he fingered you in practiced motions, that you were focussing so closely on. Perhaps too closely, for he was nipping your lower lip when you had stopped actively kissing him back.

"Is your distraction an indicator of something good? Or do I need to work harder?" he asked you, lifting his head to watch you squirm as he added another finger.

"No, it's something good. It feels good," you reassured him.

The heel of his palm grazed over your clit, and you whined. So, he did it again. You moaned louder. He curled his fingers inside of you, and you moaned at how overwhelming it all was. He might have slept with more people in between, but you certainly hadn't, and it was becoming all too much, all too quick.

You were acutely aware of the movement of his own hips on the bed beside you, your lips tugging up in amusement at the desperation he was displaying. Comforted by the fact that you were not alone.

A particular brush of his fingers upon that spot inside of you cut off your thoughts, and you gasped, jerking your head away. At that, he did it again. And again.

"Spencer—Spencer," you whimpered, brokenly, grappling for any semblance of control over yourself.

"Mm?"

"I'm gonna come," you told him. An honest mistake, because he was now pulling his fingers out of you, despite your quick protests. "No—what the fuck?"

"Shh," he said through a smile, kissing you to quieten your loud objections. "I want to come with you. Is that okay, honey?"

Oh.

Overwhelmed with a sudden shyness, you nodded your head, cheeks warming, and any opposing words dying on your tongue. "Yes. It is."

In an all too quick motion, he went from fully clothed above you, to fully naked and beside you, you having discarded of your own dress at the same time. Absentmindedly, because you were a little too focused on what it was you were actually doing, brain running rampant about how awful of an idea it was.

But then he was shifting your legs open, hand running up and down the skin of your thighs as he positioned himself at your entrance, and you were forgetting all about it.

In a slow, languorous thrust, he pushed himself inside of you, a low hiss leaving his lips as he stilled, your own eyes fluttering shut, hands balling into fists.

"This, I forgot," he breathed out, and you felt his hair tickle your shoulder as he rested his head against it.

"You have an eidetic memory."

"Not for touch. Not like this," he explained, voice strained. "Sorry, sweet girl. Give me a minute."

The pet name had your heart fluttering, and you felt tears sting your vision as the violent reminder that this will never happen again flashed in your mind. You willed that thought away, trying to focus on the feeling of him inside of you, and how good it was in the moment.

"It's been like twenty," you grumbled, pushing your hips back against his, and a choked laugh left his lips.

"Seconds, maybe," he answered, a hand dropping to your hips. To still them or ground himself, you didn't know. "Exercise patience, please."

"Forgive me, but you did just stop me from coming."

He bit your shoulder. "Exercise manners too, while you're at it."

At that, you inhaled, before saying in an awfully sweet voice, "Can you please fuck me, Spencer?"

"Was that so hard?"

"Fuck off."

"After I make you come, I will," he answered, tone of voice unbearably innocent.

A stark contrast to the drag of his hips out of you, and the sharp thrust back in (just to punctuate his point, of course). At its unexpectedness, you gasped, voice cracking and heart somersaulting.

Every thrust into you was a constant reminder of what you had given up. What you had lost. A string of moans from you so achingly familiar to his ears, and heavy breaths from him making you want to never let this end.

He was everything, and perhaps your hands were an inch too small to hold all of him.

As quickly as it had all began, it was over, and you were left in the centre of his mattress, staring up at a ceiling you had intricately dissected with your eyes many times before.

He had disappeared to his bathroom, assumedly to get clothes for himself, and hopefully something for you and your walk of shame you were no doubt doing in less than thirty minutes time.

There was a growing sick feeling in your stomach you could at least identify to be anxiety, paired with the gross feeling of regret for your actions. You were never meant to see him again, despite what your heart had wanted. You forced yourself to be an adult about this, to cut him off. Your friends had pathetically changed his contact name to don't answer on a night out for their own personalised reminder of what talking to him would ensue. Why didn't you fucking listen?

He returned from the bathroom, a pile of clothes you had forgotten you'd ever even left here in his hands. You wiped the sides of your face with the backs of your hands, fluttering your eyelids to cut off anymore tears, sitting up.

"You should probably go," he said. If there was anything left of your heart to shatter, he just did.

"You're kicking me out so soon?" you asked him, failing at keeping your tone of voice light. When he hesitated in a response, you discovered why you no longer let your heart speak for you. You cracked a small smile, shook your head, and muttered, "Kidding."

He didn't need to know you were subconsciously begging him to let you stay.

You stood, albeit on shaking legs, and took the clothes he was offering you. Pulling them on under such a watchful gaze was almost embarrassing, even as he busied himself with stripping the sheets from his bed to avert his attention. He was still keeping note of your presence in his space.

"I—um, bye, Spencer," you stammered, throat closing up with every passing minute.

He looked back at you. "I'll see you out."

"No," you were quick to deny him. "It's okay, I know where the door is. I'll see you around. Maybe. Probably not." Stop talking.

"Yeah. Maybe," he agreed with no real sincerity. "Goodbye."

"Bye," you said, again, hesitating to leave behind the remnants of an even more destroyed relationship.

Though, you had to.

And as you left, you discovered that yes. Everything between you two had changed.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut

653 notes · View notes

eimiette · 4 months ago

Text

minutes

࣪♡ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── SPENCER REID

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

1K notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Can we pls get more shy reader who’s new to the team and Spencer who just got out of prison?(I just read the other one and loved it)

(P.s love all of your work 🤍)

Why is Spencer murmuring?

“It's more complicated than anger-excitation. Everybody assumes anger-excitation but it's never that simple.” Is he talking to himself? “Our UnSub has a unique signature, so that's what we should be focusing on, but…” He opens the folder of crime scene photos, frowning hard.

“Are you okay?” you ask, hand reaching for him of its own accord. You stop yourself before making contact.

“I'm waiting for you to finish.”

“Me?” Your eyebrows hike.

“You're learning. You know the answer already.” His frown softens but doesn't leave, prompting a weird, hard-to-ignore pattering in your chest. “This is how we do it. We speak out loud and build off of each other's interpretations.”

He's more intimidating than he realises, perhaps. You flounder to think of what he'd said and how you'd move forward. It feels like a long lapse in conversation as you mull it over, your features tilting into their own unhappy frown.

You begin. “Most UnSubs have a signature by mistake. They mess up, or their emotions run too hot, but this one physically cannot be accidental. He's clearly sociopathic, or narcissistic, but if that's the case and we focus on the signature, then that's what he wants,” —Spencer nods encouragingly, blood rushes past your ears— “it's a red herring.”

He lights up, his voice almost velveteen as he agrees, “It's a red herring.” It twists your guts, has you biting back a smile even as pleased heat rushes to your face and neck.

“So we focus on the things he can't control,” you suggest.

Spencer must see it, hear the question, the need for his approval. “Good job, Y/N,” he says, your name said with enough warmth to make it feel like a brand new word. “Really good.”

You can't keep eye contact. It's too much. You hide your unsteady hands in the mass of papers stationed between your two thighs, wondering if he can feel your jittering in the threadbare couch beneath you both.

“What, you don't think you're doing well?” he asks gently.

“It's not that.”

“Oh. I see. You like praise.” Your lips part though you can't summon words. He continues on, “It won't be hard to attract, considering how quick you are. I'd say you were a natural if I didn't know how hard you worked to get here.” His upper arm brushes yours as he sets the closed crime photos aside. “Let's do it, then.”

“Um–” You're practically blind for a second. “Do what?”

“Find his mistake.”

You shake yourself. You have to get back to work.

It would be much easier to do so if he wasn't sitting beside you talking under his breath, smiling every time he catches you looking at him, completely at ease in your company.

You think you might be getting away with it until you aren't. He says your name, voice fried with the very beginnings of a chiding.

“What?” you ask.

“Find the mistake.” His lips twitch. He's almost melodic as he adds, “I know you can do it.”

He's torturing you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

2K notes · View notes

hyunjilicious · 28 days ago

Note

I just read in the making and I absolutely love the idea so much 😭😭 and I was just wondering, how do you think the other members would react?? Or would he keep it a secret from them too? (I can't wait for the next parts!!!!)

SHUT UP THIS WAS SO FUN TO THINK ABOUT!!!!!! He would definitely not hide it from them!! Especially not from Han and Changbin since he's gonna need their help finishing the songgskdsdkjslk warnings: mentions of sex and public sex, felix being a little freak, and yeah... 18+ pls!!!! The post that inspired this or basically Chan fucking you in the studio so he can add you moaning to his solo, and these are the members reacting to it!!!!

Han and Changbin - they’re the first ones to hear it because Chan can’t get any of the other producers involved and he needs their advice and help. And in order to not make things even more weird, he of course lets them know beforehand what they’re about to listen to and let me tell you, they’re jaws are on the floor!!! Changbin can barely process what he’s hearing, can’t contain his smile - he doesn’t really know if he’s cringing or if he’s just impressed with what Chan managed to come up with, but one thing is for sure, he can’t even try to look into his hyung’s eyes at that point. He just listens, smiles and bops his head along to the track, trying to come up with something to say… he fails. Meanwhile Han?? OBSESSED. He loves it. At first, he’s at a loss for words too, but the pure excitement is visible on his features. He can’t even sit down properly, his chair is turned around and he’s kneeling on it, mouth agape as he processes the track inside his head. He’s 100% impressed but, “We need to work on it a bit more, though. It sounds really good but you can easily tell it’s her”

“Really?”

“You’ve listened to it too much” Han shakes his head and ushers Chan to make space for him at the computer. “You can easily tell it’s Y/n. But I got an idea, here…”

Hyunjin - absolutely adores this. He somehow managed to look right past how filthy the whole thing is and is just utterly impressed with how Chris went from just writing a song about someone to actually adding that person into the song, making everything more real and tangible. Just sees the art behind it and lowkey hates he wasn’t the one who thought of it first. Also completely against the sounds being refined any further, he loves the raw feeling of it. But really, he can’t help how mesmerised he is, he’s completely impressed with Chan’s genius and his producing skills and to him this is nothing less than a work of art.

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Too much?” Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, confused. “No, how could it be too much? I think it’s subtle enough to not be the main point of attraction but impactful enough to really bring the song and its message to life. I love it!”

“Really?”

“Yes, really! Good job”

Felix - also loves it, but quite literally in the opposite way that Hyunjin does. What art? What feelings? No, it’s just filthy and he LOVES IT. He’s hella proud of his mate, will definitely high five him. Also can’t fucking contain his enthusiasm, bops his head along to the track, you know, eyebrows furrowed and his lips between his teeth as he listens to it over and over again.

“Did you fuck her here?” he asks with enthusiasm, pointing at the floor. Then he points to the couch, “Or there?” and then to one of the empty chairs, “There!?”

“Oh my god” Chan laughs, face all red as he doesn’t know whether he should answer the question.

“But you two fucked in this studio, right?”

“You’re crazy!!”

“I’m crazy!?” Felix erupts, slapping Chan’s shoulder and pulling at his arm. “Do you hear yourself, mate? You’re the one who fucked Y/n here!”

“Don’t! Say it like that!”

Felix’s smile disappeared but the mischief was still there in his eyes, “She fucked you? Was she on top?”

“Ok, get out!” Chris, although amused, has had enough, but unfortunately his friend is nowhere near done.

“Ah! I love this-” is the last thing Felix manages to say before he gets pushed out of the studio.

Lee Know - he likes it, yeah, a bit more than he thought he would but has literally no idea how to talk about it. He’s still in shock, keeps looking back and forth between Chris and the screen, as if waiting to hear that it is all a joke. It isn’t. “How did you manage to come up with this??” he’s absolutely astounded. “Y/n knows about it, yeah? I don’t have to kill you or something, right?”

“Of course she knows!!”

“Ok, ok, good” Minho nods and resumes listening. “Cool, cool” he says after a while and but can’t help but burst into laughter in the end. “I can’t believe you’re doing this”

“In a good way or in a bad way?”

“In a ‘you’re insane’ way” he clears, “I knew you were a pervert but this is a lot, even for you”

“I’m not a per-” Chan tries to defend himself but he knows there’s no point in doing that, so he just trails off, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you are” Minho stands to pat his friend’s shoulder before moving to leave the studio. “No problem with that, though. Let me know when it’s finished”

I.n - oh, he finds this so fucking hot but it does shortcircuit his brain a bit. It’s not the recording itself, he’d personally be down to do it himself with their partner, or even go further and film the whole thing but he just fears the song would be interpreted the wrong way. You and Chan haven’t gone public yet, people don’t know you two are in a relationship, let alone the true extent of it; what if they’re gonna get the wrong impression? What if they’re gonna think that’s all Chris wants and cares about, sex. People are mean, he’s worried about that.

“I don’t think that will be the case” Chan sighs, “I wrote a lot of songs and I expressed different sides of me through each and every single one of them. This is just one song”

“Red lights” he dryly says.

“Ok,” Chris chuckles. “A couple of songs-”

“Drive”

“That's-”

“Connected”

“Ok, enough!” he cries, waving his arms to get his friend to stop. “That’s enough, you made your point”

But apparently, it all works in Chan’s favor as Jeongin nods and visibly loosens up. “Now that I think about it, hyung, this is really your style. It does fit your vibe”

“What’s that supposed to mean”

“Just don’t ask her to be in the music video as well and it’ll be fine”

Seungmin - he’s… not a fan. It does sound good, he can agree to that, but he’s reluctant to even get too close to that computer. I feel like he wouldn’t be a fan of PDA in general and this… is just over the top. He’s definitely a romantic, and considers that stuff like this needs to stay between the people involved and no one else. Doesn’t judge Chan for it but doesn’t understand how he could possibly be so chill about hundreds of thousands of people hearing you moan like that either. “So you think I shouldn’t go ahead with it?” Chris asks but Seungmin would be very quick to dispel his worry.

“Oh, no! Not at all what I was trying to say. You just express yourself in a different way, I guess. And there’s nothing wrong with that”

“Is it obscene?” Chan cringes.

“It’s not obscene, no. It’s hot. I just don’t know which one of us is the weird one. You because you don’t mind strangers thinking of Y/n that way, or me because I’d probably want to murder each of them in their sleep if they ever dared think about my girlfriend like that”

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan #skz imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan imagines #stray kids imagine

169 notes · View notes

gothcsz · 3 months ago

Note

oh to have javi come over and seduce you when you're out at a bar and then fuck you so good you can't even think straight

tags: f!reader, mentions of infidelity, established relationship, no use of y/n, roleplaying, smut, unprotected p in v sex (be safe), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 2k w/c - gif cred

a/n: you guys must be stopped! leaving me sexy prompts like this! i have no choice but to write themmmmm! i got an ask a few weeks ago talking about roleplaying with javi and well... i had to incorporate it somehow. also, that one scene in narcos (hence the gif…) hehe enjoy cariño 🖤

You sit hunched over your martini glass, idly swirling the ice. The air in the bar is warm and hazy, filled with laughter and conversations you’re barely aware of.

It’s been a long week—the kind of week that crawls under your skin and leaves you in desperate need of a drink.

You had left work with no destination in mind, eventually finding your way here, hoping your favorite cocktail would smooth out the edges before you had to face the quiet of home.

You take the last sip of your drink just as the bartender places a fresh one in front of you, her lips pulled into a knowing smile. “Courtesy of the cute guy down there,” she says, jerking her head toward the end of the bar. Instinctively, you turn to look.

And he’s… well, calling him cute feels criminally inadequate.

He’s handsome as hell, with dark, captivating eyes and features that would look more at home on the big screen than here, in the half-light of this neighborhood bar.

He smirks like he knows exactly the effect he has. You meet his gaze, lift your glass in acknowledgment, and take a careful sip.

That’s all the invitation he needs. He slides off his stool, weaving his way through the scattered crowd until he’s beside you, easing into the empty seat with a smoothness that feels almost practiced.

The confidence only adds to his appeal.

“Didn’t know people still did this,” you say with a wry smile, though you’re subconsciously reveling in the attention.

You shift your hand subtly, so the glint of your ring catches the light—a reflex, a reminder to yourself and a warning for him.

His gaze sweeps over you with an unapologetic gleam. “Did I come off too strong? Couldn’t help myself, especially not with a beautiful woman drinking alone. Feels like fate.”

You laugh, the sound escaping you before you can stop it. There’s something invigorating about his brazen confidence, and he seems to notice, leaning a little closer.

“He must be out of town or something,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting down to the diamond on your ring finger. “No way he’d let you sit here all by yourself.”

You tilt your chin up a little, defiant. “I’m perfectly capable of going out on my own, thank you very much.”

He hums, a low, amused sound as he lifts his glass and takes a slow sip. The scent of bourbon reaches you, mingling with the subtle notes of smoke and black teakwood radiating from him.

“So you’re married,” He murmurs, more of an observation than a question.

“Three years,” you reply, and when his brow arches with playful curiosity, you can’t help but feel the tiniest thrill. There’s something intoxicating about a stranger’s interest, especially one with beautiful brown eyes that linger just a second longer than they should.

“Three years… Happily?” His words are gentle, teasing, yet they strike a nerve, and you can’t help but tip your head back and giggle, feeling the warmth of the alcohol and his presence loosening something inside you.

“Is this your thing?” you ask, feigning suspicion as you lean toward him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Chasing after lonely, married women at bars?”

His head tilts slightly, intrigued. “Lonely?” he echoes, the word rolling off his tongue like a test. His brow lifts just a fraction. “Now, don’t tell me he’s not taking care of you.”

You straighten, getting a little defensive. “He does, trust me,” you say, and though you mean it, there’s a flicker of something—a crack in the polished surface you present. “It’s just… his job. He works long hours, and it’s been hard, not seeing each other as much as we used to.”

You’re definitely tipsy, venting to this stranger that’s hitting on you about your marriage and how it’s fallen into a rut recently. To keep yourself from digging yourself a deeper hole, you drink more of your cocktail.

As if sensing the vulnerability behind your words, he leans in closer, his attention unbreakable, drawing you in like a force of gravity. His eyes move, tracing the shape of your lips against your glass, dipping down to the glimpse of lace beneath your blouse.

He lets out a low, exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he lifts his drink again. “Shame, really,” he murmurs, eyes flicking back to meet yours. “If it were me, no job would keep me from a wife as stunning as you.”

His words hit you like a warm gust of wind, filling you with a sudden, startling awareness of how long it’s been since anyone looked at you like this, made you feel desired. And you can’t really blame your husband, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you said yes to his proposal—how demanding his job is.

But all of your logical reasoning seems to disappear entirely in the presence of this rugged, attractive man.

Your cheeks heat, and instinctively, your thighs press together. He notices, a spark of amusement lighting his face as he leans just a bit closer.

And then, his hand lands on your thigh, his fingers spreading out over the fabric of your pants. It’s a daring move, but there’s something about it that thrills you, and you feel a low hum of excitement settling in your core.

Oh, he’s bold.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, though there’s no true bite in your voice.

“Just testing the waters,” his hand inches slightly higher, fingertips grazing your skin. He leans in, breath warm against your ear, and your skin curls. “Seeing if I’m readin’ things right.”

“Are you?” The words are barely audible, more of a breath than a question, but he hears you.

“Why don’t you tell me?” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles that send electricity up your leg.

You swallow, feeling a surge of reckless abandon taking over as you ask, “What’s your name?”

“Javier,” he answers, “Call me Javi. Or whatever you want, really.”

“And what makes you think I’d throw away years of my relationship for one night with you, Javi?”

His smile morphs into a cocky smirk, confidence radiating off him. “Because,” he whispers, eyes glazed over with a heat that makes your pulse race, “I’d make it worth your while.”

For a second, you consider letting him take you on this bar in front of all these people. His hand squeezes your thigh gently, the pressure igniting a spark low in your belly.

He leans back, his gaze fixed on you as he studies your face, waiting, watching for any sign of permission.

At last, you let out a breath, reaching down to place your hand over his. With a polite smile, you slide it off your leg. “I can tell that handsome face of yours always gets you what you want. That won’t be the case tonight, but I’m flattered. Thank you for the drink, Javier.”

He drags his thumb across his bottom lip, a slow, almost contemplative gesture as his gaze rakes over you one last time. “No problem,” he says, voice dripping with an almost playful disdain. “Have fun with your husband.” His words dance in that gray area between teasing and tempting.

You know better than to stay any longer, aware that another moment with him will get you in trouble. It’s already dangerous that you let his hand linger on you, already a risk that your mind wandered to how blissful a night with him would be. You’re not the kind of person who cheats—or at least, you didn’t think you were.

He downs the rest of his drink, his eyes fixed on you with that lingering, dark curiosity before he finally pushes back, letting the warmth of his presence slip away like a tide retreating, leaving you almost breathless.

You can’t believe yourself, how part of you feels ready to throw caution to the wind for one more minute in his attention.

A surge of longing—a need to feel desired, to feel seen—overcomes you. Before you can stop yourself, your voice slips out, soft but clear. “Actually…”

He halts, that cocky smile curling at the edges as he turns, his eyes glinting as he faces you, slowly, like a cat stalking back into a room. His grin grows wider, a spark of victory there as he watches you, waiting for what you’ll say.

“I think I could use another drink.”

Your body is flush against Javier’s, his skin hot and slick beneath your fingers as you straddle his lap on the couch. Every inch of you feels alive, heightened, as you move with purpose, grinding down on him like the cock starved woman that you’ve turned into.

He fills you perfectly, stretching and pressing in ways that make your toes curl and your mind blur. Sweat slips down your spine as you cling to him, feeling his mouth on your neck, trailing heated kisses that turn into little bites on your chin, each one sending another jolt of pleasure through you.

His hands are rough and possessive, gripping your ass and guiding your movements, matching the frantic, hungry rhythm you’ve both built together.

There’s nothing but him—the heat, the pressure, the way he’s burying himself in your cunt.

You’re mindless, every thrust bringing you closer to that tipping point. You can feel your pussy tightening around him, already on the edge.

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s coaxed you to release tonight. On his tongue, his fingers—each one drowning you in white heat and leaving you gasping.

This one on his cock, though, is building with a tantalizing pressure, leaving you almost immobile as you near it.

Your body is already feeling sore.

“Look so pretty bouncing on my cock.” His praise, laced with his own need, sends you over.

You shudder, your walls clenching around him as you gush your creamy release all over his cock. Your head falls back while another orgasm surges through you, crying out his name.

He growls in response, shifting you beneath him, your back hitting the cushions as he moves over you. His hips snap forward, each thrust sending another shock of pleasure through your oversensitive body until he pulls out with a grunt, fist jerking his cock until his milky release paints across your skin, warm and sticky.

You’re both panting, bodies sated and tangled together in a haze of lust and satisfaction.

He leans his weight onto you, pressing close without a care for the mess between you as he buries his face in your neck, letting your heartbeats slowly calm in sync.

“Lonely, huh?” he murmurs, his voice gravelly, breaking the cozy silence.

You can’t help but snort softly, fingers finding their way into his dark hair and giving it a playful tug, a gentle reprimand. “It’s true.”

Javier pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes tender and filled with that unmistakable love, deep and unguarded. “I’m sorry, baby,” your husband whispers, shifting up on one arm while his other hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “I promise it won’t always be like this.”

His words settle into you and you nod, still feeling the lazy warmth in your body from his touch, his kiss. Your legs wrap snugly around his waist, pulling him close. “I know, Javi. I don’t always feel like that, and I see how hard you work to make it home to me.”

He leans down, brushing his nose against yours. You close the distance, pressing a light kiss to his still-swollen lips, savoring the feeling of him so close.

After a beat, he chuckles, a playful glint flickering in his eyes. “Gotta say, the whole ‘strangers at the bar’ thing was kind of hot. Had me wondering just how many guys try their luck when you’re out there alone.”

Your lips curve into a smirk, mirroring his. “Likewise. You’re a natural flirt without meaning to.”

He scoffs playfully, shaking his head. “Other women haven’t existed to me since we met, mi amor.”

Then he goes and says things like that, a reminder of all the little ways he shows you how much you mean to him.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @angiewatson . @sunshinefive . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @dinanabuu

#📞 next caller!#javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #kat's writing.

338 notes · View notes

kalims · 2 years ago

Text

cupping their face

parts. one , two , three , four , five , six , seven

characters. heartslabyul

content. gender neutral reader

riddle

he has very squishable cheeks despite his concerning diet mainly revolving around tea, biscuits, and whatnot (tarts).

you suppose the chubbiness in it comes from the mounts of sweets he can't exactly resist. of which trey is probably to blame.

riddle grew up with his very picky mother with her particular food choice for him so when he arrived in NRC without her eyes he gained a lot of freedom.

so if you hold his face in your hands the fat from his cheeks pokes out of the hole between your thumb, and pointer fingers. it's so cute 😭 so you can't resist the urge to sneak a squeeze.

it makes it all the more comical becomes he looks so confused, furrowing his brows at you like he can't believe whatever the hell you're doing right now.

plus points if you start to randomly caress his face cause he's slowly realizing that this is just a show of affection and is turning more red by the minute.

it would be a flustered riddle without the steam out his ears after all!

riddle avoids your eyes. "what in the world are you doing?" but makes no move to... well, move.

trey

uhh compared to riddle he's not in that level of squishy cheeks despite him being a baker and all.

I mean it's more of a 'you can feel the curve of his cheekbones' rather than the 'chubby cheeks' kind of thing. let me tell yall, the muscles in those damn arms aren't there for show!!

but yeah I firmly believe he just takes bites out of his batter / finished product to check if he should add a certain ingredient from the taste.

but it's usually the other people that do the eating.

though if you pinch hard enough you might be granted the satisfaction of smothering his cheeks (and a trey who is trying his best to keep the increasing pain off his face cause you seem to be enjoying yourself too much.)

anyways yeah cupping his face! from my memory, to me he seems like a person with a more lean face? (I have not seen him in a while lmao) but when you do he just raises his brow a little and watches you patiently.

you won't know if he's caught on what you're doing but you'll know he's starting to enjoy it when your palms are growing heavy from trey slowly leaning the weight of his face on it.

"is this a reward for my hard work?" trey huffs in amusement. "tell me when it's too heavy."

cater

wow he's so cute 😞

cater likes to snack every now and then and all that food just teleports to his face rather than anywhere else so it's prominent even if he laments about it.

I think it just makes his smile cuter cause you can see dimples pop out of his cheeks as well 😭 it tempts you to poke them all the well.

notable. they're also kinda stretchy, you can poke, pinch, and stretch them wow. the versatility. at this point everyone should have a cater to poke, pinch, and stretch out his cheeks.

^ stress reliever.

as you're cupping his face his response is just to automatically cup you back? and he's already giggling about this 'couple bonding' thing so you're not quite sure how to proceed.

but cater's laugh is pretty contagious so you end up laughing along. both of you are cupping each other's face, and you can feel the curve of his grin from your palms.

... next thing you know in a poof of smoke two more cater appears wearing similar pouts, of which are whining about their turn..

"you guys go away!" the cater which you remember to be the original dramatically pours himself over you. arguing with.. himself. "this is og cater and (name) bonding time, shoo!"

ace

is his cheeks squishable or not? we will never know cause everytime your hands are near his face he's flying backwards to avoid you.

what a menace with the suspense and all. ace is always trolling you so it's understandable. he's like: "haha get trolled." AND WHEN YOU ACTUALLY IGNORE HIM HE'S LIKE: "wait no that was a prank too pls."

if his ego wasn't taller than him he definitely would have regretted it 💀 honestly I'm so in dynamics with ace where he thinks he's the dominant one in the relationship and if you tell him to sit he's immediately sat.

it's gonna be more of a challenge to actually get a hold of his face but pro tip: just tell him to stop with a stern face, and he's just gonna go stiff but grumble when he feels your fingertips.

he's looking annoyed the whole way but you notice the twitch of his brows. suddenly he's looking just a little more comfortable in your hands.

point it out it out if you want but his face is just gonna revert to that annoyed look, just honestly let him loosen up (and loosen up he will, don't be surprised if he just starts demanding those face caressing thing you just did in the future.)

^ well he's only doing that if you initiated it a handful of times. if not he's taking that desire to the grave.

"wow. are you really that much starved for me?" ace smirks, and nods. probably praising himself in his head. "just keep doing whatever you want, I don't care." ???

deuce

the most squishable cheeks. I take no objections, I do not care ‼️ (even though certain official art might not say so) I bet he eats with a mouth full of food, it just inflates his cheeks lol.

if we have characters we call baby girl like jamil over here, we got deuce spade our resident baby boy.

probably the one that eats up all your attention even if he's embarrassed. not of you of course! but if you ever do public displays of affection he's just hyper aware of the eyes kqbsjajss.

but he likes you a lot so he just tolerates it <3

cupping his face hmm... honestly he looks like a very innocent puppy, he's watching you with those kind of eyes. curious and patient 😭 he's watching to see what you'll even do next.

he doesn't really speak. was this man even actually a delinquent before? who the hell was that cause all you know is this very endearing, shy deuce of yours.

if there was a tail it would be wagging slowly!

man the inner man is him is wrestling him rn cause where is his pride?! but the person it's fighting is his love for you so the inner man is losing lowkey 😞

"..." there is no words, just a very flustered, pleased deuce.

end notes

trey the gentleman fr.. also ace's part is vv chaotic lamao

2K notes · View notes

hyukalyptus · 6 months ago

Text

i need to tell you—idol!soobin x gn!reader | besties pining after each other, right person/wrong time, angst.

cw. angst, suggestive but not smutty, kissing, swearing, i think its a gn!reader? pls lmk if it's not and i'll fix it, reader is from LA and is a performer, reader had feelings while in a relationship but never cheated, mentions of a breakup, kinda implied it was a shitty relationship, lmk if there's anything else. notes. please lmk if there's anything that isn't gn! wc. 2.8K

I never thought this last night with you would happen—I’d known for months you’d be going on a three-month long tour soon, but I didn’t want to believe it. You’d fly in from LA, we’d hang out, play video games, and hide our feelings from each other. Then you’d go back to California, we’d text and call as much as we could, you’d come back, and it would all start over.

But not seeing my best friend for three months, if not longer, sounds terrible. I take all of you in—your chin resting on your knees that are pulled to your chest, the city lights flickering across your face, the shape of your nose, you look stunning as ever. Your lips are squished by your knee pressing up on your chin and god, I wanna kiss you so fucking bad.

There’s nothing better than being on tour, but part of me wants you here with me forever.

But I can’t tell you any of this. Our feelings are undeniable but they need to stay a secret. You’re in a relationship—albeit a dead relationship, but a relationship nonetheless. More importantly, though, you’ll be leaving for three months tomorrow morning. We can’t start something now.

Or maybe it’s the perfect time to start something. It would be the perfect way to say goodbye. Then again, I don’t wanna add stress to your already stressful tour. You get anxious so easily. Maybe it won’t be that long.

“When do you think you’ll be back in Seoul?”

You blink out of your thoughts and say, “My last show is in Seoul actually, so…late October, early November.” I nod, taking another sip of my soju. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay though.” You shrug, leaning back on your hands. Turning away from me, you say, “I’m gonna miss you.”

Looking over at you, please just look me in the eyes. I want to see your beautiful eyes as much as I can before you leave. I wanna see you look at me the way you do before you say goodbye—a glint of hope and longing. I need to tell you—

“I’m gonna miss you too.” That’ll have to do for now. Surely I’m being overly dramatic about all this. I don’t know. You look at me, but glance down as soon as our gazes meet.

“You’ve become, like, my best friend out here.”

Another reason why I can’t tell you my feelings. I can’t…I can’t do that to you. You need a friend out here. And if you don’t feel the same way about me—even if I think you do—you’d never talk to me again. And then you’d have no one out here.

“You’re one of my best friends too,” I add.

“Ah,” you scoff. “I got hit with the ‘one of’.” I chuckle with you, running my fingers through my hair as you stand to your feet. “I think I should go.”

No. You can’t. I need to tell you—

Standing up to join you, I’m only a few inches from you. I reach for your hand, but you pull it away to adjust your jacket sleeve.

“Are you sure you wanna go?”

“On my tour?” Your eyes finally meet mine, like are you crazy? And yeah, I kinda am. “Yeah, I think I should go still,” you chuckle.

“No, I mean,” I start. “Are you sure you wanna leave right now?”

“Oh.” You sigh, looking down at the cars driving down the street, watching the train that we spent hours on go by, watching the lights of the agency building flash. “I need to.” But you don’t want to. “My flight leaves in six hours and I haven’t even started packing.”

“Let me drive you to your hotel?” Please.

Reluctantly agreeing, we drive in a devastating silence, like we both have the same thing on our minds. And that we both know we have the same thing on our minds.

Arriving at your hotel, I pull up to the drop-off driveway and you start to hop out. No. Don’t go yet. I need to tell you—

“Why don’t you park and walk me upstairs?”

I have no idea where this is going, all I know is I’m walking next to you down this hallway with my hands shoved in my pockets while your arms are crossed. Standing in the doorway, you lean back against the door, fiddling with your thumbs, refusing to look at me or open the door.

Working up the courage, you look up and say, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” I nod before we say our final goodbyes. The door shuts behind you slowly. No. Not yet. I need to tell you—

Walking away defeated, I hear a door behind me open, but I keep my eyes on the ground. A quiet “Soobin?” comes from behind me. I turn, welcomed by you pulling me into a hug. Your arms wrap around my neck and mine around your waist for what feels like forever. But it’s not enough. No. Don’t pull away yet. I need to tell you—

Looking in my eyes, you bite your lips as you shift your weight. I can't help but think you’re about to say exactly what I want to hear right now. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”

Letting out a soft laugh, I smile and say, “No worries.” You wave at me and turn back toward the door before I say your name. Turning back, you wait for me to say something while your hand rests on the handle. Please. Don’t go yet. I need to tell you— “I, uh…” I need to tell you. But I can’t. “Good luck.”

“One more hug?” Oh, thank god. I nod, managing to keep my excitement from being too obvious. Your arms wrap around my shoulders again while mine fall around your waist, you face digging into my neck. I breathe you in, wishing I could just kiss you already. Pulling apart, you don’t move your arms away. You look in my eyes like you want to say something more. But you don’t know what. Or if you should. “You know,” you start. “I, uh…I wouldn’t be mad if…”

“If…?”

“Are you gonna kiss me or am I gonna have to—“

That’s all I need. My lips crash into yours. It’s slow. And sweet. Your lips are soft, made kissable by that chapstick you’re always making me carry in my pocket. My hand is on your cheek as you smile against my lips and I lean into the kiss to deepen it. Breaking the kiss, you laugh out loud, your head falling back before you look up at me again. You’re so close to me.

“For fuck’s sake—I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me all night,” you say.

“What! No you haven’t.”

“We’ll, maybe I’m not the best at sending signals…” My lips find yours again, but only briefly. “Spend the night?” My eyebrows raise. I don’t know if I should—starting something like that right now is a little risky. And it would make saying goodbye that much harder.

“Don’t you have to leave for the airport in, like, four hours?”

“Eh,” you shrug. “Yeah, I guess so, but I’d like it if you stayed.” You smile— “We don’t have to, like, do anything. I just wanna…” you take a deep breath, “spend more time with you. Wanna say goodbye in the morning, not right now, you know?”

I let go of her, backing away. “I dunno if I should…”

“Oh.” You drop your arms to your sides. “Okay. Yeah.” Crossing your arms, you nod softly and bite the inside of your cheek.

“I want to but,” I sigh. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea tonight.”

“I-I just meant hang out,” you shrug. “I’m gonna be packing most of the time anyway. I mean, you definitely don’t have to,” you say. “Just thought you might want to.”

I keep repeating to myself you’re in a relationship. You’re in a relationship. You’re in a relationship. We already kissed—what’s the harm in spending the night without sleeping together? No. I don’t want us to start like this.

“I think I should go,” I say, saying our final awkward goodbyes. I’m walking away, but I know you’re still standing there, leaning up against the doorframe. Hope is trying to bubble up as I wait for you to call out my name again. But I’ve told you no. So I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I would do the same. Although I just wish—

“I broke up with them.”

“What?” I turn to face you, chewing on your thumbnail as you slowly smile at me before giving me a nod. That’s it.

Rushing back to you, I hold your face in my hand before kissing you again. We breathe each other in, arms wrapped around each other.

“Are you being serious?” I ask you through my deep breaths. Biting your lip, you nod with a smirk. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno, I’m sorry,” you start. “I guess I just—I guess I was embarrassed that it took so long,” she says. “And I didn’t want you to think I broke up with them for you. I broke up with them—”

“For you,” I say. You look up at me, mumbling a soft yeah before I say, “It’s okay,” I chuckle, peppering your face and neck with kisses while you giggle and scrunch your shoulders. “God, I’ve been wanting– to tell you–“ I say in between kisses. “For so long– that I have the biggest– crush on you.”

“I know you do,” you laugh. “I have the biggest crush on you too.”

“Seriously?” You nod and I don’t let up with the peppering of your face with my lips.

“Okay, okay—“ you say. “Lemme get the door open.” Laughing, you reach in your back pocket for the key, waiting for the buzz and the green light. As we stumble through, we kiss again, both of us in each other’s trance. The room’s spinning, I feel like I’m floating. Our hands roam everywhere. Mine settle on your backside to squeeze while you hum against my lips. Fuck.

“You know,” I say in between kisses. “I know you said we didn’t have to do anything but I wouldn’t mind—“

“Oh yeah, we’re definitely having sex tonight.”

“Okay, good,” I laugh, picking you up by your waist to walk you to the bed. Sitting down, you straddle my waist—always smiling, giggling, being sweet. “You sure?”

“Ah, you’re so sweet,” you say, holding my face in your hands. “Here is me giving consent, yeah?” I nod. “Soobin, yes, I want you to fuck me.” Smiling into a kiss, you break it before saying, “Your turn.”

I say your name confidently, swiping a thumb across the apple of your cheek. “Yes, I wanna fuck you.”

“Oh shit,” you say, your expression drops. “This is really happening.” My eyebrows stitch together; do you not want to— “I mean, you’re really here,” you say, looking over my face, squishing my cheeks to make my lips pucker. “You’re like…real.”

“Are you okay?” I ask through my pouty lips. Groaning, you lift off me to plop down on your back, rubbing your forehead with your fingertips.

“Fuck, I dunno.”

“Um,” I start, resting my hand on your thigh. “It’s okay. We don’t have to,” I say, watching for your reaction. Even if you do want to, there's a voice in the back of my head screaming at me Don’t do this! It’s not the right time! But there’s another part screaming Remember how long you’ve wanted to be with her!? You sit up, sitting criss-cross while you fiddle with the hem of your jeans.

Looking up, you look into my eyes, trying your hardest to put together the words you want to say but don't know how. But I know what you mean. “Soobin…I’m so sorry.”

Shaking my head, I say, “No, no it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize.”

“I just don’t think right now is a great time to…y’know, start something like this.” Well, at least it sounds like it would’ve started something, not just end with us having sex. “I just think,” you start, reaching to run your fingers through my hair. “It would make saying goodbye harder.”

It would be the perfect way to say goodbye too though, no?

“Yeah, you’re right.” I smile. And you are. I can’t imagine how shitty it would be tomorrow morning waking up next to you knowing I can’t see you for three months. Or even worse—you’ve already left and didn’t wake me up to say goodbye. “Let’s not—”

“I do want to though,” you sigh. “Just not right now,” you say, biting your cheek while playing with the bedsheets. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, get your hopes up, I dunno.”

“Hey, listen,” I say, reaching for your hands. “I was happy when you came out of your room to give me a hug but kissing you…” I hold your face in my hands. “That was—do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” You shake your head. “I honestly couldn’t tell you either. I don’t remember a time before wanting to kiss you.” Tilting your head, you smile up at me shyly. “But we shouldn’t do anything unless both of us are ready, okay?”

Nodding, you say, “Yeah, okay.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Yes please,” you say. “If you’re comfortable with that?”

“I’ll tell you what…I’ll stay if you let me kiss you again,” I say. “If not…well, then I’ll still stay but you’ll be left kissless.”

“I can’t be left kissless, can I?” You joke, wrapping your arms around your shoulders, pulling me closer. Our lips meet again and it’s just as nice as the first time around. You’re so…perfect is the only way I know how to describe you. We’re trying, trying to tell each other what we want to say. And I think we can both hear it. But not saying it out loud is a pain I don’t know if I can bear. I can feel you start to pull apart, but I can’t yet. This can’t end.

We hesitantly pull apart and you look at me, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You’re absolutely fine. I promise.” But I know you’re not apologizing for not sleeping with me. You know you wouldn’t need to apologize for that. I know what you’re truly sorry for. And I’m sorry for it too.

Tears start to pool in your eyes. Everything is a bit…much for you right now. You know you’re hurting me, you know you’re hurting yourself, but there’s nothing we can do about it. It’s simply not the right time. You need to focus on work and you need a friend while you’re gone. You don’t need to be dealing with a brand new relationship. I get it. I’m in the same boat as you are.

“Hey…” I hold your face with one hand. “Dance with me?”

Sniffling, you nod while I let go to turn music on my phone. A song I know you love—Unforgettable by Nat King Cole.

“Ugh,” you say, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “You’re too sweet.” Wrapping around each other, this is the closest we’ve ever been. Your arms are around my waist as you cuddle into me, mine are around your shoulders, one of my hands on the back of your head. Your sniffles rattle me inside and out. Our hearts beat against each other as we sway, your cheek against my chest as I place gentle kisses to your forehead.

This song is saying everything we want to but can’t. Except for that one thing. Those three words that are being repeated in our heads over and over. We both want to, need to say it, but we can’t. Now’s not the right time.

Right now, though, this is perfect. You in my arms, moving to the music with me. And it all feels right, despite that one thing that’s missing. Our lips pull at each other like magnets until they’re pressed together gently and softly. I graze my thumb over your tear-stained cheek and you smile subtly against my lips. Your sniffles are dying down, but they’re still there. They’re still breaking my heart.

Breaking the kiss, you look up at me and your lips part to say something—I know exactly what you want to say, but I shake my head. This isn't the right time. Closing your mouth, you keep looking at me, taking deep breaths before laying on my chest again.

Your sniffles start to pick up again—more sporadic, uneven. A tear falls onto my neck and—god, I don’t know if I can handle this.

“I do though.”

Your voice is strained and devastating. I absolutely hate hearing you like this. I can’t even bring myself to try to look at your face. My heart’s already broken. But seeing your face right now…it’d shatter it into a million pieces and would never be mendable.

“I know,” I say, kissing your temple. “I do too.”

144 notes · View notes

mochiimadness · 1 year ago

Note

hello!!! i love your works so far :DD!!

can i request the rise boys with an s/o who’s a human but has experience fighting with mutants? like s/o uses a scythe and can easily fight with the turtles :)

The Rise! Turtles with a human scythe wielding s/o!

Neon Leon

He thinks you're so cool!

Listen, he knows humans can go up against yokai's and mutant's

I mean, his dad and April are living proof of that-

But he genuinely can't help but be amazed when he sees you using a scythe of all things to go up against yokai's literally four times your size

Especially since you seemingly appeared out of nowhere to join the battle-

Seriously, can you portal or something???

He stops are stares as you easily knock a rather angry lizard yokai off balance, before sending them running with a slice of your wicked scythe

Your movement were so fluid,

A literal blink and you'll miss it type of speed

"Woah S/O! I didn't know you could do that-"

He'll exclaim, before ducking as you swipe at another angry yokai right behind him

"Think you could teach me how to do some of that??"

"Sure- we should probably finish this fight first though."

Oh right the fight-

He loves to spar with you

You're able to keep up with him quite easily!

And Leo is fast- like really fast

But even when he uses his portals to try to get near you-

Your scythe easily keeps him at bay.

He's absolutely in awe of you

Your blades clash together and Leo gives you this bright smile

"How in the world did I end up with someone so cool!?"

Don Tron

Donnie's impressed!

Though, he tries not to show it

Wielding a weapon like a scythe or bow staff automatically gives you cool points in his book

And you're incredibly proficient with your scythe too???

Donnie definitely want's to challenge you

"Your scythe versus my magnificent Bo-staff, I think the winner is pretty clear here."

What he thought would be an easy fight ended up being a nearly 20 minute long battle

You both were neck and neck

You were quick to block his attacks and dish out some deadly looking slices of your own

Afterwards, Donnie offers to modify your scythe for you!

"Think about it- it's already incredibly sharp and in your hands?? Borderline deadly. Now, hear me out, imagine if it had a chainsaw?"

Donnie pls.

"Or what if it was purple!?"

Donnie no-

Whether or not you let him add some "flair" to your scythe

He genuinely thinks you're cool

He doesn't even flinch when he sees you, his wonderful human s/o, go up against a super powered yokai

"Me? Worried?? No need to, I already called a mystic doctor."

"You mean a human doctor, right?"

"No??? That yokai obviously needs a mystic doctor."

He never doubted you for a second~

(That yokai you beat definitely needed that doctor- yikes)

Mystic Mike

He thinks you're amazing!!!

You're out here with no powers

No magic

No mutations

Just your normal human self and scythe

Fighting angry mutants and yokai like nothing!!!

Mikey thinks you're one of the strongest people he's ever known!

Aside from his family ofc

He loves to watch you fight

Has and will bring snacks to watch

Ofc, if you're ever in a pinch, Mikey will gladly swoop in to help you

He absolutely loves teaming up with you

Between his nun-chucks and your scythe-

No villain stands a chance

He even uses the blades in his nun-chucks from time to time to "match with you" ^^

Loves asking you to let him wrap his chains around the staff portion of your scythe so you can launch him at people

"It'll look so cool! C'mon just once???"

To be fair-

It does look and feel pretty dang cool!

Mikey knows you can handle your own in battle

He's seen it more than once

But if things ever get too rough

He's always there to lend a hand!

Big Red

Oh Raph...

Poor guy nearly faints every time you go into battle

Yes he knows humans can fight too

But you're not even using a mystic powered weapon like April does!

You could get seriously injured or worse!!

He always starts worrying over you

Especially when you both were just starting to get to know each other-

He didn't want to loose one of the few friends and humans that he knew!

He often will go into battle and cover you,

Taking hits or tackling opponents away

But you end up having a serious talk with him about this

"I know you're worried, but I can do this. I know how to fight-"

"I know, I know, I just get worried ya know?"

While he's still nervous about it,

He eventually starts hanging back to let you fight your own fights

And he comes to realize you are pretty great at what you do!

Your scythe is practically an extension of your own body,

And you easily handle opponents larger than you-

Both mystic and mutated!

"You're amazing!!"

Raph really comes to respect your strength and proficiency with your scythe.

He knows you can handle yourself

That still doesn't stop him from jumping in to help or defend you

Even when you may not necessarily need help

He still cares and worries about you

Doesn't want you to get hurt

Especially if he can help it.

"Er- sorry, I just jumped in again without thinkin'..."

I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for such a long wait

#my writing #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rise leo x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise mikey x reader #rise raph x reader #neon leon #don tron #big red #mystic mike #the boys

423 notes · View notes

nogenderbee · 5 months ago

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔 𝕘𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕠 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @wabatle request: ASK FOR OBEY ME REQUESTS AND I SHALL DELIVER!!!!

anywayssss can I req the brothers (but if all of the brothers are too much just Lucifer, Satan, and Asmo pls!) + Diavolo with an mc that's INSANELY GOOD at playing the electric guitar please?

Thank you pookie you're the best 🤭🥰😍💗

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ THANK YOUUU I choosed the option with less chars hope you don't mind -w-"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Lucifer plays on piano and you play on electric guitar... he listens to classic music, you most likely listen to something harder, you're literally opposites!

✧ the only thing you share is most likely that you're good with hands...

�� your instruments don't match tho so unfortunely you have no way of playing together...

✧ as for different tastes... it never hurts to try, right? As long as you won't insult his taste, he won't insult yours. And who knows? Maybe the two of you will find some nice songs that you normally wouldn't even reach for?

✧ he's definitely a bit surprised when you tell him you do it professionally, but he's also interested second after...

✧ maybe he never considered playing on electric guitar but now he certainly thinks about at least trying... especially with you as his teacher

"You want me to try this badly? Maybe later... I'd like to see you on piano as well, are you aware, my dear? So do we got each other a deal~?"

✧ he's not really the best player... he may not want to admit it, but you can see his fingerprints aren't really used to strings

✧ as for you... if you won't success at playing piano either, he'll tease you just a little bit

✧ tho if you are... he'll be proud of you, but also his pride is slightly hurt that you had no problem playing on his instrument...

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@wabatle - come get your scary brother!

✧ Satan definitely has some electric guitar solos and songs on his playlists... I mean he's literally avatar of wrath! It just kinda goes along that he'd let it out in way of stronger music... plus it's opposite taste of Lucifer's which adds onto it...

✧ he doesn't play himself but he still knows a lot about it

✧ he asked you quite straightforward to just play something for him, expecting to catch something he may correct but... it was harder than he imagined...

"Well... Maybe you should learn more advanced chords- You were just warming up? Alright, I'm listening..."

✧ surprised that you're actually professional with electric guitar but after a day he's already used

✧ will say stuff like "my lover's better at playing electric guitar than you're at playing piano" to Lucifer just to piss him off

✧ if you actually win in the little competition he made against eldest brother tho... he's gonna have the time of his life by rubbing it into his face whenever he gets the chance

✧ other than that, he actually likes hearing you play! Especially if you're playing more aggressive songs, he finds it a bit calming!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@miya-akane @wabatle - come get your cat lover!

✧ you can't tell me Asmo doesn't find it hot whenever you play electric guitar for him

✧ he'll shamelessly beg you to play a song for him, while he watches you or does his make up

✧ but you'll always get the best and loudest applause from him, followed by big hug and wave of kisses!

✧ he loves the most the finger play you do during complicated solos

"Well that's quite an experienced~ I dare say even better than mine! Hehe~ Oh c'mon, it was a compliment, darling!"

✧ he wanted to learn how to play guitar untill you told him he can't have long nails whole doing so

✧ now he sees playing on guitar as a curse... so! He does his best to plan aesthetic short nails design for you, so they'll fit your style and guitar design!

✧ whenever you come over, he'll make you sit down so he can do or fix your nails first and only later he'll let you play on guitar

✧ he gushes a lot to everyone he meets about you whenever the topic drops even slightly to music. He's just such a proud boyfriend!!

✧ you never have to worry about not knowing what to play or learn around him too... he goes to so many parties, he usually gives you few ideas, be it for songs that already exist or for your own songs

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@vodka-glrl @wabatle - come get your pretty princess~

✧ Diavolo is the type to appreciate any talent, especially if you're so dedicated towards it

✧ maybe Barbatos sent you annoyed glare when you payed such a hard songs in the middle of castle but... if it doesn't disturbs Diavolo, than what can he do?

✧ I feel like he'd actually enjoy how electric guitar sounds and may even get so into it he tries finding some songs dedicated for that instrument

✧ definitely asked you if you could teach him how to play electric guitar out of pure curiosity

✧ he's actually pretty good at it! He may not get it first time but he's definitely a fast learner

✧ if he was as dedicated as you, you two could probably play together, but he has slightly different interests too...

✧ tho he mostly still enjoys listening to you play! He won't even mind it if you play a song or two while he's doing his work

"Oh no, no need to leave! Your music helps me concertate. But if you're bored, I have few ideas what we can do during my quick break!"

✧ he'll definitely get you into few concerts if that's your dream and you bet he'll be there cheering for you!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@wabatle - come get your childish ruler!

92 notes · View notes

weirdsht · 2 months ago

Note

Heya!! Can I request a tcf x reader fic from where the reader is teenager and got teleported there? Somehow they can see the dreams of the future and knew about tcf novel while also being a full on simp for the main characters?(But also the thing that the young reader was someone who has been to various worlds and was in a loop, repeating things but without the memory of them doing so each time. They get glimpses ofcourse but it was just their past self trying to give out signals to not repeat any mistakes)

Definitions - Cale & Teen! Reader

notes: sorry anon i couldn't reflect all of your ideas because i found some of them hard to combine when i started writing. also this plot is better suited for a long fic/series but i don't have that time and energy huhu

tags: gender-neutral reader, mentions of death and dying (can be a little graphic but nothing too bad), teenager reader, nightmares

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome (for a limited time)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist

“You should be more careful, this is uncharted territory.”

The look-a-like caressed your face softly as they spoke. Eyes filled with concern and uncertainty bore into you.

You may look alike but there’s something different about them.

Maybe it’s their mature aura. Perhaps it could be the tired look in their eyes. As though they have been suffering for eternity and want everything to end.

Whether they long for peace or eternal rest even you do not know.

“Still… this is a good opportunity and something we haven’t tried yet. Maybe you’ll be safer under his watch.”

“What do you mean by that? Who are you?”

You spoke for the first time since being transported in this weird abyss.

Being transmigrated into a novel like a lousy isekai protagonist was already confusing, but now you have to add weird dreams on top of that.

However, it beats trying to survive in that place you used to call home.

Between being endlessly confused and going back there… you’d choose the former any time of the day.

“I am you, well a part of you at least. As for what I mean… let’s just say this is for your own good.”

The supposed “you” paused briefly as they rested their hand on their chin. Probably thinking about how much they can disclose. Once they made up their mind their fingers caressed your head.

You may not know what’s happening, but you can tell they’re trying to provide comfort.

And it’s probably for the arduous path waiting beyond this dream.

“We’ve been through this many times, and each time you forget… I do not know if god has forsaken us or is playing a cruel joke…”

The look-a-like sighed before hugging you tightly. You meant to reciprocate, however, before you could raise your arms a sharp pain went through your neck.

“AGH! IT HURTS!”

It really does. It feels as though someone’s digging a knife through your neck, Trying to separate your head from your body.

When you manage to come back to your senses the other you are gone. The only thing left in the abyss is your and your throbbing neck.

…And wouldn’t you know, the moment you looked at your hands that were previously clutching your neck… all you could see was blood.

“-[me]”

“-[me]!”

“[Name]!”

“[Name] wake up!”

You jolt up as the familiar voice wakes you up from your dream. That’s right, you are currently under Cale Henituse’s wing after being transmigrated inside the novel you were reading. You have momentarily forgotten such a fact.

Clutching your throbbing neck, you tried to look at the redhead through your tears. Not that you are succeeding at the moment. However, you think you could see a slightly startled look on the young master’s usually calm face.

“Young master..?”

You asked, unsure of everything as your mind is still hazy. Still trying to get out of dreamland.

“You were screaming and crying in your sleep.”

Cale stated calmly as if he wasn’t panicking a minute ago. Still, his eyes roamed around you several times to double-check if there was anything wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The redhead asks as he gently wipes your tears and pry your hands away from your neck.

“I’m sorry young master. I don’t think I can for I don’t remember the contents of my dream… All I could remember was that there was a searing pain in my neck. It-it felt so real. As though I was in the middle of the battlefield and someone was sawing their sword back-and-forth on my neck…”

You tried to explain to the best of your abilities. You didn’t want to lie to the man that you considered your saviour.

Both when you were reading the novel and when you transmigrated.

In every form, fictional character or not, Cale Henituse has always been your saviour in one way or another. And thus you hold deep respect for the man.

“Don’t push yourself. Sometimes forgetting and never remembering is better than being reminded constantly.”

Ah, he must be referring to his record ability. A blessing and a curse indeed…

“Still, if you feel unwell or anything come to me. I took a kid like you in so I must take responsibility for you till the very end.”

Cale Henituse probably doesn’t know the impact of his words. Just how much you have longed to hear such things.

No, perhaps he does. Perhaps more than anyone, Kim Rok Soo has been the one longing to hear those words since he was a child.

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

With that, Cale stepped out for a moment to ask a servant to fetch a glass of warm milk. After doing so he returned to your side, sitting on the side of your bed. He looks unwilling to leave you, despite having three younger children waiting for him in his bedroom.

“Don’t hold back, have you seen me holding back from doing and saying whatever I want? You don’t have to push yourself to act like a grownup around me. I’m the adult, those things are for me to bear.”

Cale’s words suddenly found their way to your memory when you were about to urge him to go back to On, Hong, and Raon. That combined with the redhead’s determined gaze to not leave your side has you clamping your mouth shut.

Soon enough a maid delivered the glass of milk to your room and you drank it to your heart’s content. Then the morning after that you could feel the children averaging 7 years old sleeping beside you.

The weeks following that are peaceful. Well as peaceful as Cale’s life could get at least. Not that it says much since he has the tendency to meddle in things that will only jeopardize his slacker life.

Despite that, your days are looking better. After that night you didn’t seem to experience excruciating nightmares anymore. You also seemed to have opened up to the rest of the crew.

Perhaps that’s why Cale became complacent, causing him to lower his guard.

And perhaps that’s also why his face hardens 10x more than it would have weeks ago. His anger soars through the sky, reaching the gods even, as he hears the heartbroken sobs you utter on your lips after waking up from a nightmare.

“Am I such a bad child for the gods to do this to me? Have they forsaken me? What did I do that was so wrong that warrants this kind of suffering?”

You sobbed on the young’s master chest. You look so out of it. Eyes glazed over as if you’re not with Cale despite being in his embrace. You continued to wail, continued to curse the world for putting you in a type of pain that not even Cale can comprehend.

“I’m tired, I’m so tired. How many times has it been? I’ve tried my best… I always did, but I don’t know what the gods want.”

As you looked up at the ceiling, perhaps trying to directly ask the gods, Cale could finally clearly see your eyes.

They were filled with pain and suffering. Such young eyes carry the weight of the world.

It did not belong to the teen who was laughing and playing around with the kids and Choi Han.

It was still you, but it wasn’t the you that Cale is currently raising.

The meddlesome transmigrator couldn’t understand it himself, but he was sure of this feeling that he had about you.

Hence why when you finally passed out he immediately ordered someone to summon Cage and Saint Jack.

Cale Henituse might be a piece of trash but he always sees through his promises.

Even if he has to fight every god out there to fulfil it.

Because for Cale Henituse, that’s what it means to be a guardian.

#le asks #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf #cale henituse #lotcf #totcf #lcf x read #tcf x reader #tcf fic #lcf fic #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #x child reader

71 notes · View notes

tmwcs · 1 year ago

Text

"Turn Around..."

One shot fic. (Not relating to any of the established series.) This is a bit different from what I normally draft up, kind of like the Robin Hood one shot, which is also a non-yandere fic like this one. Pls enjoy.

Thank you for taking the time and reading my stories and drabbles. To show your support, please consider donating into my ko-fi account ♥️

Warnings: Unprotected smut, breakup, lovers reunited, makeup sex, rough sex, a little bit of angst, taken for granted, apologetic make lead, regretful male lead, and drama. "Dont know what you got till it's gone" type vibe. not proofread but figured i'd get this out to keep yall busy until i get the next chapter of TO out 😉

Summary: You and Heeseung had a break up, despite all that has happened, you find out that you weren't the only one hurting.

“Hey.” he stands calmly at the door. You avoid making eye contact, too nervous and shy on what to say. A bit of a ridiculous notion considering you knew the man very well, dated for quite some time in fact, yet the lack of his efforts drove you to the point where you had to kill off the relationship, for our own happiness. The only issue was, that you’re not sure if you’re any happier now than you were when dating him. Nodding, you respond back with a soft “hey…”

Walking in, his initiative causes you to walk back. He lets himself in and gently shuts the door behind, never breaking his sight away from you. You kept shifting your sight from one area on the floor, to another. He continues to take his steps forward, and you keep taking them back. Soon, he has you pinned against the wall. Palming the wall, one hand off to each side, he traps you in his arms and leans in, wanting to get closer. You dip down and swoop under his arm to get away freely into the open space, walking over to the living room, much to his grimace dismay.

Sitting on one end of the couch, you cross your legs and prop your hands up to rest your chin. Intent on avoiding eye contact, you look away and kept your face in the opposite direction. He walks over calmly and sits next to you.

“Y/n….”

“Heeseung stop. Could you please just get your things and go? I’m not in the mood to talk.” you snap, rubbing your temples as you adjust your body to shift up and away, standing before the tall window, waiting for him to move along and to get out. But he doesn't.

Looking up from where you were just sitting, he remains on the couch wide eyed and slightly appalled. Sure, he went along with the break up, even dabbled and went on some dates even though you both had just broken up merely two weeks ago. However, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t hurting either. He only went and saw other girls just to try and take his mind off of you, but how are you supposed to know? He left you no choice, you didn’t ever see your relationship coming to an end. You worked and tried to get through to him, but he never listened, so then you were left with no choice but to break things off, yet you couldn’t help but feel stabbed when his nonchalant attitude and response to your initiation was given, almost too easily, as if he was thinking about breaking up himself.

Seeing you standing in that silk camisole dress, lazily covered with the matching satin short robe over it, had him feeling some type of way. How long has it been since he saw you like this? No makeup, hair laying freely and barely dressed. You looked so beautiful, stunning in fact, and yet your body language and attitude made you achievable for him to grab hold on. Did he really lose you for good?

“Y/N…” he tries once more, keeping a respectable distance away, so as to not add any fuel to the fire. “Can’t we just talk?”

That did it for you. NOW, he wants to talk? Now? After seeing a handful of girls, pretending like you no longer mattered after you presented him with the words “I’m not sure if this is working out…I wished you would just be more considerate, yet you just always put me off to the side. Maybe we should consider a brea–”

Remember the tone he had in his voice, he cut you off and finished your sentence, almost as if he was eager and looking forward to the word…as if he was taking your initiation as an opportunity to end everything without having to do the dirty work himself. “Break? Yeah sure, I think that would be good for us.” he told you. Never once trying to figure out the meaning behind your initiative, nor did he ever try to fight for you. But now, it seems he had a change of heart, but you weren’t wanting to hear any of it. Not after having a string of girls by his side the last few nights. What were you? A rebound? Were you just a safety net since it didn’t work out with those girls? What is this?

Turning away, you snapped in a harsh tone. “No!”

“What?” His voice was a little more firm, and he seemed a bit irritated by your attitude.

“I said no. I don't want to talk.”

“Why are you–” he pauses. “Y/n…you act like you’re the only one that is affected by all this. You’re not. I’m struggling too, you know.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You’re hurting so much, how many girls did you seek out for comfort? Five? We’ve only broken up two weeks ago and you never once wanted to talk, until now.”

Standing from his seat, he grew offended by your words and replaced his soft and gentle gaze with a more stern and harsh one. Walking over to you, he nearly traps you in as he breaches your personal space and begins to walk you back to the wall, again.

“What? You think those girls meant something? Seriously?”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t pretend you’re hurting, you nearly jumped for joy when I brought up the idea of taking a break. You think I don’t know? Get over yourself Heeseung!” Turning sharply, you try to get away from him, but his movements are quick and he restricts your fleeing attempts by hugging you from behind. You struggle and try to break free, yet the moment he pushes forward with you grasped in his arms, shoving you up against the wall chest first and his chin resting on your shoulder, burying his face in your neck, you begin to falter, but mentally maintain your resistance. Taming you, he senses your physical strength decreasing front he struggles, and continues to push you in, resting you on the flat surface as he closes the distance between your backside and his chest. Stroking his thumb, he caresses your waist as he hugs tightly. With small brush strokes of his lip, he softly pecks on the soft area of your neckline.

“Stop…” You whimper out, trying to ignore the beautiful sensation of how his lips felt gently kissing, and sucking on your skin. “Stop…please….get away…”

“You really want me to get away?” he mumbles, with a mouth full of your delicate skin in his mouth. “Then say it. Tell me in all sincerity that you want me to stop and I’ll leave.”

With your arms pinned to your body by his embrace, you reach up and lean your palms against the wall, pressing your body against his. You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder, you didn’t want him to stop, nor did you want him to leave. But you had to be strong, for the sake of mending your broken heart. So, with a shaky breath, you whined out.

“Get away…” you nearly whispered, your hair draping over your face and your robe coming undone, bearing the nakedness of your shoulders and cleavage. “Just…get away…”

A slight pause was present, before he leans in and resumes his efforts as he takes in a mouthful of your soft skin, just below your ear, this time he was less gentle and more rough in his manners.

“I said no….” you whimpered. His arms tightened around your arms and waist, and he slightly lifts you before shoving you further up against the wall, pressing your cheek to rest against the surface before whispering in your ear…

“I don't believe you.”

Shooting his hand around, he lifts the hem of your camisole up and fingers his way through panties. He called you out on your bluff and you didn’t seem to mind, because now you get to show how much you missed him, that you didn’t want to leave. You get to show him that you were hurting, and that he left you without any options or hope to continue forward, that you were just at the lowest part of your life. He knew it too. He wasn’t being his best self with you, in fact he was selfish and led you with so many false promises, it’s no wonder you proposed a break up. It didn’t hit him until you started to usher out those words, but before you could finish, he beat you to the punch, all because he saved himself from the heartbreak of hearing you say it, so he had to say it first. Figuring he would save himself by hurting you, then to be hurt directly, he found that it was all for nothing. Right after walking away and leaving you to go on your own, a sharp pain hits him inside, and he immediately regrets it. He regretted going with the flow, and letting you go so easily. Fact is, he turned around, wanting to run back after you, but seeing your backside facing him, walking in the opposite direction without so much as a glance back over to him, compelled him to look the other way and to move forward, after all, it seemed you had no trouble doing just that.

Taking your hand, he intertwined his fingers with your own, his kisses became more passionate and his embrace became tighter as his hands roamed. God he missed you. He missed how your body felt against his, and how your skin tasted. He missed how you sounded when he kissed that one little spot on your neck, and how your body shakes when he touches you. He missed you too much.

“Tell me you don’t want me to leave this time….tell me we belong…tell me…so I can do what I’ve really been wanting to do for the last two weeks…with the one woman I’ve been wanting. Tell me baby…”

Softly sobbing, you whimpered and gasped out, immediately trying to catch your breath as you cried out your words.

“I never wanted it to end in the first place…”

Peeling his head back, he stood slightly shocked at your words. Before he could ask questions, you finally let it all out. It was long overdue, and the most painful sense of release you ever felt.

“Why couldn’t you just have turned around?....I stood…watching you walk away. I mentally begged for you to turn around and come back…but you just kept moving on…you left me crying….and I just had no choice but to finally do the same….you didn’t come back. What was I supposed to do? Stand and wait in that spot forever? And those girls?....I just knew…you didn’t care….”

Your words hit deep and cut a wound that may never heal. He had no idea that you waited. He did turn back but he was too late…probably by mere seconds. The image he recalls of you walking away, was imagined with you displaying a calm and tranquil look on your face. Now, he understands that you made your way back home in tears that night, and longed for him to come back to you.

He gulps. In a single brief moment, your entire relationship flashes before his eyes, and he realizes that not only did he not give you his best during, but he didn’t give it to you after. Yeah, he tried to get his mind off you by going on dates, but how were you supposed to know that? He started to think how his behavior must have looked to you…how hurtful it must have been to hear about his rendezvous while you were sitting here longing for him to come back. But what killed him in all of this was that, had he just been less attentive towards his friends and set his priorities straight, none of this would have happened. How many times did he come home and skip eating the dinner you prepared, all because he decided to eat with the guys after work. Or whenever you asked to spend time with him, and he promised you he would have another day, one where he didn’t have plans, yet that day never came. How many times did he wake up, shower, and quickly breezed through the kitchen and sees that you prepared breakfast for him, yet instead of sitting and eating with you, thanking you for taking the time to feed him, he picks bits and pieces off his plate and heads out while jutting out the words “see ya!” and quickly leaves so he could be the first in line at the coffee shop…that coffee shop…the coffee shop you loved yet he never took you with. He knew your favorite order yet never brought you back anything. He was always so focused in grabbing his drink and heading to work, where he could spend nearly the entire day chilling out with the guys doing what they love, spending a great deal of overtime, before finally calling it a night. How many times did he have the opportunity to come back home, especially after seeing all his friends dipping out to go back to their loved ones that were waiting for them…and yet he stayed back, opting to hit up buddies who were single and could spare the time, instead of coming back home to you. How many times did he come back home so late at night, finding you already asleep. How many times did he crawl into bed with you, and instead of hugging you and kissing you, he turns the opposite direction and falls asleep, leaving you to not only feel lonesome during the day when you’re awake, but at night when you’re asleep too. Just how many times…did he take you for granted?

He didn’t have any words. He felt hurt…he felt a great deal of pain, and it was nothing that you did, you were great…you were perfect in fact. The one that hurt him was himself.

Remaining silent, he leans back into your neck. Shoving his lips against your ear, feeling the shrug of your shoulders as the oversensitive sensation of feeling his lips pressed against you was immense and triggered potent arousal. Whispering, he merely tells you “I’m sorry…”

His soft whisper made you cry even more. Feeling you shake as you sobbed harder, he holds on tightly and kisses you on that soft spot again…and again….and again. Until your sobs turned into moans. Sucking on your neck, he reaches up and grabs onto your throat, gently but firmly holding on as he pulls your hips back. His free arm hugs your waist and tugs onto you, while his grab around your neck keeps your face and chest close to the wall. Pressing his groin against your derriere, he takes in a large whiff of your scent, that subtly sweet perfume that he liked so much…he missed it. The one thing he grew complacent in taking in daily, yet the moment he thought he lost it forever, he realized it was the most beloved scent produced in this world. The feel of your touch, your skin, hair, and your soft lips, was something he didn’t realize how much he loved. It had been longer than two weeks since he last felt you, growing too comfortable and spending more time away from you throughout the course of your relationship, it had been a while since you both were last intimate. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you or cared, he just didn't have his priorities straight. He just always thought that no matter what, you were always going to be around for whenever he needed or wanted you. But when was that? When did he express how much he needed or wanted you? When did he last make you feel appreciated and desired? More importantly, when was the last time he made himself available to you? Knowing that you wanted and needed him, yet he never was there for you.

“God…I’m such a fucking idiot…” he hums out with a mouthful of your skin sucked in to his mouth. Lifting you once more, he flings you over and softly lands you on the couch, laying atop your backside as you rest on your stomach and chest. “He–Heeseung…”

“Why was I so fucking blind…” his words gasped out in a near whisper, it was gentle and calm, yet the manner of his physical touch was the exact opposite. Nearly ripping off your dress, the straps snap loose as he roughly pulls it down, and tears your panties off. Hanging by the bits of thread and pieces of fabric, it loosely hangs on your thigh while he smooths his hands over the softness of your smooth skin, grabbing onto your cheeks firmly as he squeezes your derriere.

“Why did I not see what was in front of me?” Leaning forward, he places his lips on your back shoulder, and sucks on various regions. Firmly holding onto your waist, he fishes out his stiff member and rides it in between your cheeks, squeezing it to nestle in between as he strokes it up and down. “How could I not see that I had the best thing that’s ever happened to me?” Taking a hold on the back of your neck, he slowly feeds himself inside your cavity, pressing in. You weren’t entirely ready, and the lack of prepping made it hard for you to take him in, not to mention it had been so long. Yet his eager desire to have you made him impatient, he needed you now…he wanted you…he wanted to please himself but also, to please his queen.

“Why did I not show you just how much you mean to me….why didn’t i do it sooner?” Thrusting in hard, his groin smacks against the soft plumpness of your cheeks, you screamed out as he rams himself in, reaching the depths of your gut as he pushes through all of your stagnant walls. Fully in, he pauses before continuing. He had to take a moment to enjoy the feeling of burying his cock deep inside you….after missing out for so long.

“Why wasn’t I better for you?” Sliding out, his tip breaches its exit, providing you with some relief as you catch your breath, only for him to shove it back in with fierce momentum. “He–Heeseung!” Gripping onto the sofa cushion, you brace through the pressure of pain and pleasure as he roughs up your womanhood. He was being so demanding with the way he was thrusting, yet his words were so beautifully spoken with genuine sincerity and sympathy. He truly was sorry, and now, he wanted to show it, even if it meant he had to mix his love with fucking you into pieces.

“Why didn’t I tell you how I’ve felt all this time?” Thrusting, he jolts forward and bucks his hips, causing your body to rumble and shoot forward, only to be retracted back as he pulls you in, all to repeat his performance in jutting his cock back into you deeply, shiting your body forward.

“Why wasn’t I home often?” Thrusting and pumping his cock fiercely, you felt the sting of his thickness tearing you open. It had been too long, your body nearly forgot what it felt like to have someone, much less him, pelting you with their girth. Even though you were devotedly waiting for him, and yearned for him, he left you empty and unfulfilled so many nights, and you spent each evening alone and drifting off into a dream where you weren’t sleeping lonesomely on an empty bed. Now, he was here, and for the first time in so long, he was not only making love, but he was fucking you like his life depended on it. He didn’t want to take it easy, or slow, he wanted to go in deep and hard. He wanted his performance to match the ferocity of his love and yearning for you.

“Why did I let you sleep alone all those nights? I should have been there to kiss you to sleep.” Deepening his thrust, the curved edge of his lengthy member hits your sweet spot. Soon, there was no pain, only the pressure of pleasure and ecstasy.

“I should have touched you more.” increasing speed, he forces the moisture of your secreted fluids to squelch in and out. Your body gushes out, you could feel yourself releasing the warm liquid your body was producing, seeping out, and glazing his cock as he continues to fuck you.

“I should have loved you harder.” Grabbing onto both sides of your waist, he pumps his cock in and out, faster and faster as he holds you steady.

“I should have been better. I should have been so much better.” Slapping into you, his groin and thighs stains your skin red as he continues to slam himself in, going deeper and deeper.

“I should have….fuck….baby you feel so good…I should have…I should have….”

“Heeseung!! Ugh!” He continues with his pace as you reach behind and smack your hands over his, digging your fingers onto his wrists as you feel the snap in your gut release the high of your orgasm.

“Fuck baby….you’re making me cum…..”

Your body shakes uncontrollably and you scream out his name, which transitions into tiresome whimpers as you catch your breath. All the while he slows down, going in deep and slow, passionately slow. Admiring the view of his length smoothing in and out of your womanhood, he savors the feeling of releasing every bit of love, anger, sadness, and regret into you. Still thrusting, his thumbs stroke your skin and he bids you to answer.

“Tell me you missed me…”

“....I missed you…”

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you…”

“Tell me you need me.”

“I need you.”

“Now tell me you love me….”

“....I love you….”

Leaning in, he rests his weight on top of you as he tenderly kisses your cheek. His cock remains buried in, and goes in deeper as he propels forward and lays atop your body. “Then turn around…and don’t let me go. I’ll do the same.”

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

550 notes · View notes

fordpinesthemanyouare · 4 months ago

Text

Ford x Fem!Reader

Math Assistant Pt.1

Summary: Ford needs himself an assistant, Stanley makes an online post for him and BOOM there you are, coming to meet him for an interview at the diner.

Warnings: Erm... this is a nothing sandwich I THINK. Please let me know if I should add something

A/N: My brothers in christ please this is my first fic that I wrote on a whim, I had an idea and I started writing. I have never written fan ficiton in my life so pls be nice... also who up wit dey werm to Stanford Pines HOOBA HOOBA!!!!! Okay also I want to write SMUT for this so imagine this is like the really really really long winded plot to the porno. K thanks bye read if u want or dont i dont control you.

——————

Ford shook his head at Stanley who was seated in front of a new computer now placed in the living room, “I’m still confused on why we should be posting the ad listing “online” rather than the local paper, or putting up flyers around town.” Ford used air quotes for emphasis, he still found the whole idea strange, he liked the computer for being a tool he could use to further research. He didn't like it so much as a vessel for finding candidates for a job he was offering, the thought that he had no idea who was communicating with him unsettled him a bit. Especially knowing the kind of work he was going to be having this future assistant… well assist with.

“Because yer never going to find someone with the qualifications yer asking for in this town” Stan looked over his shoulder at a crossed arm Ford. “Hiring someone for a summer job who has a PhD in Application Math, whatever that means-“

“Applied Mathematics, Stanley” Ford interrupted.

“Whatever it is you're not going to find that here, you and fiddleford are probably the only people in this town to actually have a college degree” he said with a chuckle, turning back to the computer. He was clicking around on some website that Ford had never heard of, let alone just recently finding out what the internet was. “I'm setting up a job listing on some of the local college websites, ya know for people that are studying or just done studying”. The clicking of the mouse and the typing of keys continued as Ford ran the motion through his head, overthinking perhaps every outcome of Stanley posting that job listing. Ultimately though Ford knew he was right in that, no one with at least a degree in Applied Mathematics was going to be residing nearby.

“Just please be careful about the information you include in this job posting, try to keep it minimal as possible. If they ask more questions about specifics you can let them know that I can explain in person.”

Stan looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows slightly downturned with a smirk rising on his face, “I didn’t realize you had hired me to be your assistant, you're going to have to cough up if you want me to do this for you”. Ford groaned in annoyance of his brother, “Stanley you know I don’t know how to use any of that”.

“Exactly why you're going to want to have me help you out with this”, Stanley moved his arm to drape across the back of the chair he was in, looking more directly at him. “That’ll be twenty dollars”, he held out his hand expectantly at his twin. A beat of silence passed between the two as they had a small staring contest, both men’s brows furrowed at the other.

Ford finally reached for his back pocket after he felt he had glared at his brother enough, he slipped a twenty dollar bill from the leather wallet and practically slammed it in his hand before walking in the opposite direction without a word. While Stan on the other hand, was more than beaming when he saw Ford’s hand fall to his back pocket, Stan half shouted as Ford strode out of the room.

“You’ll thank me later when I find the perfect candidate!” He laughed as he said it and returned to more clicking and typing around the website.

Ford returned to the lab to finish up some things before the kids were scheduled to get there later in the month. When they returned from the long months at the ocean, Ford wanted nothing more than to work on something in his lab again. He loved feeling the anticipation of a project becoming something, but of course he knew he could easily get carried away. After Dipper and Mabel left last summer, before Stanley and him were going to head out, he had made a major discovery while working in the lab. He had discovered an atom that was capable of recreating a direct clone of itself and in as many atoms he could count. He continued to work on the project until Stanley was practically dragging him from the house to leave to sail around the world.

While sailing towards one of their final destinations at the end of the trip, Ford finally opened up to Stanley about his worries of falling into the same pits as before. He was worried that he would become too involved, as he already felt himself doing as they were leaving for their trip. He also desperately needed some alone time from Stanley, but he didn’t mention that to him while they were on the boat.

“What if you hired someone to help you with the project?” Stan had offered a possible solution, while he had sat in the boat looking at Ford who was deep in thought over his dilemma. “I mean obviously the last time that happened, it wasn’t great either…” He trailed off after the look on Ford’s face became apparent, regretting the thought of his old college friend.

“I know the last time wasn’t great” Stanley pushed forward, “but maybe if you have someone hired to help with the smaller stuff. Things like using the calculator or something, whatever the small stuff even is to you” he said the last part under a fake cough which earned him a glare from his brother. However, the idea wasn't… terrible, Ford thought. He pondered over the possibilities of having someone helping him out, along with having the two kids upstairs to bother him. If he were to have someone who he didn't have to know that well take on most of the minor details, the equations and such, he would be able to prioritize the best parts of the project while also having time for his family. At least, that’s what he had hoped for when Stanley initially offered the idea.

“That could be a good idea…” Ford said after taking several moments to ponder the possibilities. “I would need someone who could do advanced mathematical equations, with room for equations that could possibly extend what they know…”. Stanley just looked at him deep in thought, wondering how there could be that many things to think about, the answer seemed clear to him.

Back in the lab, Ford could hear Stanley groaning loudly about some ‘unknown error message’. He continued to monitor and take note of the atoms under his advanced microscope for a while, waiting until Stanley had further news of any postings. He wondered what his new assistant would be like, if they could have the same passion for knowledge and understanding as he does.

———

A few days had passed, Ford falling into old habits quickly, holing himself up in the lab for hours upon hours. The only time he was seen over the last 48 hours was to grab more coffee from the kitchen, he caught naps in between work, falling asleep over his piles of scrap paper filled with numbers and letters. Ford had not anticipated how much mathematical reasoning was going to follow the atom cloning discovery, he was falling behind on moving forward with more discoveries on the atoms, but over hundreds of miniscule details that needed solving kept him at the desk. Stan walked down on the 49th hour of Ford’s lock down in the basement, opening the door noisily and making as much noise as possible on the way down to let him know he was on the way. Ford was scribbling away on the nth page of scrap work, crossing out failed attempts of solving equations as Stan broached the lab floor.

Stan awkwardly cleared his throat at Ford when he didn’t turn around, even though Stanley was sure to have made enough noise on the way down. Ford turned his head over his shoulder, his body seeming to not want to move from the space it had cramped into. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, as if asking ‘What? Im busy’. Stan gave a huff of annoyance before starting,

“I have about 3 applications that I thought were worth looking over, most of the idiots who applied didn’t even have math degrees. All they see in the listing is free housing and they flock like birds trying to claw their way in” he said with a slight chuckle. He strided over to Ford’s desk, as Ford leaned back finally interested in what Stan was saying. He took the papers from Stanley and began to look over them. He began thumbing through the few resumes, looking over each one carefully noting that all three people had at least some qualifications in mathematics. He looked up to Stan and gave him a tight smile.

“I appreciate you getting these for me, I’ll reach out to the ones I feel are qualified.” A beat passed between them, Ford paused for a second wondering if he should just return to work at this point or if Stanley had something else since he hasn't made any move to leave.

“I think the one on the bottom will be the best fit.” Stan said with a certain look in his face that Ford couldn’t place, as he turned to leave. Ford looked at him as he walked towards the stairs with a questioning look on his face, wondering what could have led his brother to place a preference on one of these resumes even though he didn't know what applied mathematics was. As Stan trudged up the stairs Ford called to his brother,

“I'll be sure to look at that one, thank you Stanley.” Which made Stanley pause and turn to look at Ford, a distant smile on his face as he nodded and continued up the stairs. Ford turned back to his desk and pulled the resume on the bottom up to the top, the header in nice bold letters a fine print used, he noted.

Y/N YL/N

He also took note that this was the only two-page resume offered to him, with the education list taking up most of the room. Several universities/schools were listed and his eyes read over the names and degrees that followed. He read all the way to the bottom where it listed your highschool with graduation dated in 1999. He noted this person was in their early 30’s with several bachelors degrees in several sciences, two master’s degrees in statistics and biology, and of course a Ph.D in applied mathematics. The latest graduation listed was University of Oregon masters program in statistics for April, which he noted it was now early May noting it would be fresh on the mind. He moved your resume to the back of the small stack, looking over the first two he skipped over, and honestly he wished he saved yours for last. The first two were jokes compared to the advanced knowledge you listed, he set the first aside after noting that the education list was no longer than a paragraph, and the second resume didn’t take long to set aside either as his eyes raked in the many spelling errors.

He read over your resume again looking for a way to contact you to set up the interview. He noted the phone number and email in the corner of the first page, and made to move upstairs to the kitchen phone. As he stood up however, his muscles almost molded into place from sitting at the desk, stopped him from moving further. He groaned as he began to stretch himself out, thinking about how he couldnt wait to stop looking at math problems for hours on end.

Heading back upstairs he reached the phone and quickly gazed at the microwave clock, 3:49 pm. He was glad it wasn’t later than five, as he picked up the corded receiver and began to punch in the numbers. The phone rang a few times before your voice fluttered over the phone, “Hello?”. Ford cleared his throat awkwardly, “Hello! Yes, is this Y/N YL/N? Oh it is, great, this is Stanford Pines calling about a job posting for the assistant position. I was hoping to set up an interview to discuss further details of the position.”

“I was just wondering if I would hear back from this offer,” the light voice on the other end laughed a pleasant laugh a little before continuing, “I’d love to join you for an interview regarding the position, I’m free anytime, anywhere this coming week and the next.”.

Ford offered a time for tomorrow at the local diner, which he provided the address to. The voice on the phone wished Ford a great rest of his night and that they would see him tomorrow. Ford wished them the normal pleasantries he hated to conduct while making mundane phone calls such as these. He was slightly relieved to find you weren’t completely strange, at least right off the bat. When he hung the phone back on the hanger, Stan suddenly spoke, causing Ford to jump from the lack of warning.

“So did you end up going with the one I said?” Stan looked smug as Ford met his gaze, knowing damn well he scared Ford on purpose. Ford rolled his eyes after he settled after the slight scare,

“Unsurprisingly, as you could probably assume. You shouldn’t have even bothered with the other two. One only had a few community college classes under their belt.” Ford turned to make more coffee, he figured he would stretch his legs now as he was planning on working on some more equations before the meeting tomorrow. Stan gave a hearty laugh, “She’s also quite the looker, surprised me when I was pulling resumes”. Ford gave his brother a look as he asked, “Can’t you make your picture anything you want online?”. He remembers when they got the computer last time the kids were here, Dipper had shown him how he had his profile for online DD&MD. He absolutely didn’t understand it, but Dipper assured him this summer he would teach him. Which would benefit him from not having to pay Stanley anytime he needed something done the modern way (this was not often).

“Yeah but this was on a college website, everyone has their picture I think. It looks all like student ID’s… Oh don’t look at me like that! I looked at all of their profile pictures. She just happened to have the best looking picture.” Stan finished with a shrug and a laugh. Ford had looked at him like he was crazy for looking through all the people who applied profile pictures before feeling the need to ask, “You did give me recommendations on experience, not looks correct?”.

Stan shook his head, “I know you would kill me if I passed on a math nerd over an actual good looking girl” he laughed, turning “I'm going to head out gotta meet some people, don’t wait up for me.” Stan said as he was walking out the door, grabbing the keys as he slammed the door. Ford shook his head and decided to take his brother's word for it, his mind replaying what his twin mentioned, “quite the looker” as if that could have any effect on anything. Ford thought he didn't care much at all for how a person appeared as long as they could solve these problems that's all that mattered, and maybe that they were decently pleasant to work with. He couldnt help but reflect back to the phone call, your light and airy voice filling his ear with pleasant sound, at least you didnt have a horrible voice and he could probably get used to hearing that voice more often, he thought. Ford filled his cup with coffee and headed back downstairs not giving the interview tomorrow much more thought than your voice on the phone.

—————

A/N: Yay I did it!!! yeah so what if its a nothing sandwich?? Didnt i literally say that before hand.. hope you enjoyed if ya read! <3

#gravity falls #ford pines x reader #stanford x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford x reader #ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x you #gravity falls fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #series #grunkle ford #hunkle ford #nothing sandwich #i wrote this listening to BRAT #gravity falls writing

74 notes · View notes

l0v3tast3 · 2 years ago

Note

AHH Hello!!! I absolutely love your writing, it’s so good!!!!

I was wondering…

Y/n always wear a mask to conceal her identity, in hopes the 141 doesn’t find out that Makarov is her father!!

141 had captured Makarov for interrogation, and y/n is there. As the interrogation continues, they start to notice that y/n and Makarov know each other, by the subtle little informality they spoke to one another. And the truth starts to come out, little by little!!!!

✎ tysm i love you :(( i absolutely love this idea the angst potential is just *chef's kiss* i'm sorry this one took like over a month to make oops, also i tried to keep personal details abt the reader as vague as possible, pls let me know if there's something i can fix!!

✎ tags: female reader, military reader, major daddy issues, violence, mentions of blood, hurt/barely any comfort if at all, not proofread im too cool for that,

✎ word count: 2,704

the silence in the cold, gray interrogation room was so thick that you were choking on it. you knew you had just fucked up, badly.

you had done so well so far, too. you're fabricated identity had fooled everyone. the name you had chosen stuck, and no one ever noticed your old one threatening to jump from your mouth when you introduced yourself. you always kept the childhood memories and little anecdotes vague. you stuck to your rehearsed lines better than a world-famous actor. you did every single thing right.

and now, here he was, your own blood, fucking it all up for you, again.

technically, he had made you fuck it up for yourself. it was just how makarov worked; he was a spider weaving a web in the corner, watching, waiting. this man, your supposed father, didn't know anything real about you. he didn't know you as a father should know his daughter. but he knew which buttons to press.

he only knew what to say to you when it would allow him the opportunity of watching you fall a little deeper towards rock bottom.

you knew that the room had cameras covering every square inch, and the microphones ensured that you're accidental admission to your heritage was heard by your entire task force.

there was a red hot pit opening inside of you, caving your insides in like a black hole and threatening to consume your entire being. it was rage, you realized. something you only ever seemed to feel in the presence of one person.

you briefly considered killing him, right there and then. was this really the straw that broke your back? it truly was just another thing to add to the list. you had known he would do this.

no, you were angry at yourself.

on the other side of the door, the four men of the 141 task force were all stood still in shock. what the hell did you just say?

none of them wanted to believe it. they especially didn't want to admit that it made sense. you had done a fucking fantastic job of hiding it, they'll admit that, but even you couldn't hide everything.

price saw the way you tensed when you were passed laswell's photo of makarov in the bar, after you had all put an end to hassan's plan. he saw the way you dropped it and slid it to the next person quickly, as if touching the picture had burned your fingertips.

soap had asked you if you were okay more than once during the plane ride to russia. you were so restless, so different from your usual grounded self. you just said you were having some flying anxiety. he felt stupid now for writing it off so easily.

and kyle, the first one to trust you (and to even really talk to you), he had seen the anger sparking off of you while you shot your way through the tower to get to makarov. floor after floor, bullet after bullet, you had paved a path of blood through the mercenaries. he wondered if someone else had taken your mask and gear and was pretending to be you.

simon saw the fear in you when you all got to the last door. you had been so quick in your endeavor to get here, but he saw you hesitate to follow them in. he saw how you never took your wide eyes off of him, and how you stayed a few steps back, moving far out of the way when price began to escort him out in handcuffs.

and when they had asked you to go into the interrogation room, they all saw how you stopped breathing, and the sweat collecting on what little skin they could see above your mask. you had stuttered when you quietly agreed.

when you stepped into the room, makarov took one look at your eyes, and you knew he recognized you. no, he recognized the hatred. and it made him smile.

now, sitting in the cold metal chair, you realized that it wasn't just one mistake, but a series of them; you had let him unravel you, again. you understood, finally, that he saw you as he did everyone else. he saw you as someone that held him back.

part of you had always known, ever since you were young, still single-digits, and he would only visit you once every few months, if that. you had elected to ignore it. now you couldn't.

you couldn't move. behind you was the door that would lead you to the consequences of your actions. in front of you was the reason for those actions.

this is what you had wanted, wasn't it? it was like something snapped back into place, and you suddenly remembered that everything you had done up until now, every time you put the mask on before leaving your room, every lie you had told and every person you had killed had been to get you here. in front of your father. you remembered that the image of him with a bullet between his eyes was what kept you going.

if you killed him, would it finally absolve you? the gun on your hip felt twenty pounds heavier now. your fingers, folded together in your lap with a white-knuckle grip, felt like lead. would this sin make all the other wrongs right?

a tiny voice was telling you to just walk away, let the team's wrath come down on you and let them deal with makarov, but you had already thrown the table between you towards the wall, he was already on the ground with your hands wrapped around his throat.

you were yelling, no, screaming at him. all the compacted feelings from years and years of being as quiet as possible came up like vomit, spewing out in a mess that could never be cleaned up.

there were more than just makarov's hands on you, pushing and pulling you away from him and dragging you out of the room, kicking and screeching to let you just finally kill him, while two other blurry shapes hauled him back into his own chair.

the heavy metal door shut behind the two people practically carrying you, and they finally let you go. you stumbled a few steps away, whirling around for the next target of your fury.

your captain and lieutenant were standing in front of you, both tensed, waiting for you to do something. you couldn't exactly make out their faces- were you crying?

"what in the bloody hell just happened in there?" price snarled. it was the voice he used when he was face to face with his enemy.

"let me back in there." it was a demand. you needed to kill him.

"that's not gonna happen," simon barked. john and kyle had come out from the interrogation room to stand behind the other two men. "you need to explain, now."

they all stared at you with varying looks of anger and hurt. it wasn't the first time you'd ever had it directed at you, but this was somehow worse than all the others.

every cell in your body was shrieking at you to just run for the door, to somehow get through all four of these men, your teammates, your friends, and kill makarov. but their glares glued you to your spot.

"please-" your voice was trembling, years of grief and agony dripping from every word, "please, just let me kill him. you have to let me kill him." you spoke slowly and quietly, focusing on just trying to get the words out. you took a shaky breath and focused your eyes on a muddy bootprint on the floor. you didn't want to see the looks on their faces.

"you don't understand, you just- just let me back in there, please, i'll get whatever you need out of him, but he needs to die!" your voice was getting louder, and you briefly wondered if your father could hear you. "his men are probably already on their way here. don't you get it? if i don't kill him now, he will get out."

the men in front of you were more shocked now than anything at the change in your demeanor. you had been coined the "second ghost" throughout the units, partly for the mask, but also because of your detachment. you were kind, but you always held logic above emotion.

in front of them now was nothing short of a nervous wreck.

despite not moving, you were frantic. you were wringing your hands together, pressed tight against your stomach. your eyes darted from side to side, person to person, between them and the door to makarov.

price took a step forward and you took a step back. he was slow, bringing his hand up as if he were approaching a wild animal. if he was still angry, he was hiding it now.

"come on, kid, let's just get out of 'ere, eh? go somewhere away from him," he said lowly. the other three men watched tensely, not moving, but their hands still close to their guns. just in case.

"no, no- just let me- price, you need to let me back in there!" you were a broken record, you knew it, but there was nothing else to say, nothing else you could think about. this was what you had been waiting for, you were right where you had wanted to be for the past- how many years now? how long has he tormented you for now?

you could feel your father's presence in the next room like bugs crawling across your body. it made your head feel fuzzy and your hands shake. was it from rage or fear? you couldn't tell, so you chose the rage.

it was like bile stuck in your throat, all the pain makarov had caused you finally being unearthed. you wanted to throw it all up and spit it out onto him, lay your organs and hatred alike out on the table in front of him so he could see the decay. you wanted him to rot from the inside out like you had.

your eyes glanced at the door one last time before focusing on price. he was watching you, just a couple of steps in front of you now.

"let me back in there, john." it was a whisper, but still the steadiest thing you had spoken since they had dragged you out.

"no." he said your name quietly, and you heard it as the plea it was, but you're head decided it was done listening.

your body threw itself at him, swinging underneath his arms and onto his back to try and get him on the ground. the room exploded into yelling, and multiple pairs of hands were on you in an instant, hauling you off of price and forcing you face-down onto the ground with your hands behind your back.

cold metal latching around your wrists didn't stop your screaming and kicking, lashing out at the air around you. it didn't work well, because you were being hauled back to your feet and pushed into a separate interrogation room.

whoever was carrying you didn't bother with trying to attach your handcuffs to the table, basically throwing you in and slamming the door shut before you could get back on your feet.

outside the cell, the four men stood in silent shock. what was there to say, where would they even start? would they really be able to hear each other over your muffled screams to let you out?

you didn't know how long you had been in there once the door finally opens again, but you had stopped screaming and struggling to get out of the room. you had sat down at the table, your hands folded in front of you on the cold surface. you stared down at the blood beading and smearing around the handcuffs.

kyle squeezed in through the tiny amount he'd let the door open before he shut it quickly, keeping his eyes on you. you didn't look up, your red eyes staying fixed on one point even as he slowly moved closer. he followed them to see the red rings underneath the steel, and a pang of guilt squeezed his heart tight.

he sat down across from you, folding his hands in front of him on the table, mirroring you. you still hadn't looked up at him, or done anything to acknowledge his presence; you hadn't even moved.

"are you alright?" kyle implored. he kept his voice soft, bending over a little to try to look you in the eye.

it took you a few moments to respond; he almost started to think you didn't hear him before you opened your mouth slowly.

"is he dead?" you croaked.

kyle let out an audible sigh while he leaned back in his seat, bringing his hands up to drag them down his face.

"no, we still need him. you know that."

you didn't say anything after that.

after sitting in silence for two full minutes, he spoke up. "you realize not telling us about this makes you look really bad, yeah?"

"you don't trust me anymore?" you whispered it, like you didn't want him to hear and answer. you knew what he would say.

"you aren't making it very easy."

kyle wanted to trust you still. part of him was angry and confused as to why you had kept something like this from them. the other part, the bigger part of him, knew that you were on still on the same side of it all. and he knew the other three men felt the same, but they couldn't just dismiss this.

"we can work this out, ya' know. you just have to be honest with us," he added after you once again stayed silent.

"be honest?" you echoed. you finally looked up at him. "about what? you heard me. makarov is my father. i want him dead. that's all there is to say."

kyle took his turn to not speak, weighing your words, figuring out where to go from there.

"why didn't you tell us?" he finally asked.

you looked back down at your wrists. "if i had told you i was makarov's daughter before i joined the team, then all i would have ever been is makarov's daughter." you paused to take a deep, shaky breath. it was uncomfortable with your mask still on, wet with tears, but you refused to take it off, to give away the last piece of your identity that was still yours at the moment.

"it's something we should have known," he contended quickly. "we could have used the information you have-"

you cut him off, your eyes snapping back up to glare daggers at him. "you think i know anything more than you?" you barked. something between a laugh and a sob escaped your throat before you could continue. "i was eight years old the last time i saw him in person. i was raised by live-in nannies. he only visited, what, maybe twice a year? and i don't know why he even bothered, either."

your hands were clenched into tight fists, and the same sting that circled your wrists was appearing in your palms. you kept going though; you didn't know if you could stop now.

"every time i get somewhere, every time i start making a life for myself again, he fucks it all up. never showed his damn face, but it was him, it was always-" you finally cut yourself off, not wanting to drag more memories out from the dark.

"makarov may be my father, but i am not his daughter. i swear, kyle, i fucking swear it." you were pleading with him to believe you now. you needed them to understand.

you could see it in the way his eyebrows creased that he wanted to take your words as the truth. but he didn't say anything (what could he have said?).

the door opened once again, and price half-entered the room to wave kyle back out. he avoided your gaze, something he'd never done before. then you were alone again.

1K notes · View notes