#it took me freaking two days to write this

[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 4 (final)

Masterlist

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut, fluff, pet names, biting, rimming, enthusiastic consent, multiple orgasms, messy sex, power bottom Logan, top Wade, teasing/banter, dirty talk, anal sex, mild genderplay

Word Count: 5K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Wade has him on his back so fast the world tilts.

Logan’s willing to go where he wants, especially if that place is upside down on their mattress. He lands hard enough to bounce a little, huffing out a laugh, the sound ending in a pleased hum as Wade goes right back to kissing him. He wraps his legs around Wade’s waist, cups his face in his hands, wanting to touch him everywhere. This is the kind of prelude to sex that leaves him breathless; not too fast, not too slow, the anticipation of it all clinging to their skin like static.

Above him, Wade can’t seem to decide if he wants to keep kissing him – rough and enthusiastic – or talk about everything that's coming next.

“God, you looked so fucking hot punching that walking protozoa –” he gasps the words right into Logan’s mouth, and Logan can only grin back, chasing Wade’s lips for more. “Love it when you’re mean like that –”

“Oh, do you?”

“You know I do, smartass,” Wade says, his tone and his face so full of love that he might as well have called him angel. His mouth travels to the sensitive place under Logan’s jaw, teasing with teeth. “Will you tear someone in half for me next time? Will you tear me in half?”

Logan can’t stop fucking smiling. Even as he arches up and into the kisses tracing along the line of his throat, he’s smiling, feeling floaty and stupid and turned on.

“Not in the apartment, ya freak,” he manages.

He isn’t deterred. “Your freak,” Wade says. “And no, I'd wait til we took a little trip out to the woods like you want.”

“I'd like that.”

“Tearing me in half?” Wade's mouth pauses, hot and wet, at Logan's collarbone to ask the question.

“Takin’ a trip,” Logan corrects, panting a little now. Squirming for more attention, his cock hard trapped between their bodies.

“Oh, okay, okay. So we can screw in the woods without having to worry about staining the sheets? And play out the ‘fucking a lumberjack’ fantasy one of us may or may not be harboring?”

Logan raises an eyebrow at the lumberjack bit, but chooses to say nothing. Hey, whatever floats his boat. God knows they’ve done far stranger things.

“Sure. Or fuckin’ up the carpet. Been a minute since we had a real rollaround.”

Wade hums his agreement at that, trailing a delicate hand down the length of Logan’s bicep, then his forearm, until their fingertips are touching. Logan’s fingers twitch when he touches them, their hands intertwining. Willingly, he lets Wade bring his hand to his mouth – knows instantly what he wants him to do. He opens his mouth and takes Wade’s fingers on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Wade breathes, and Logan can feel himself leaking in his boxers, dripping a spot against the cotton. He pants out a shaky sort of noise in answer, maybe an agreement or disagreement to the praise, he doesn't know, can’t think. “Yeah, you know just what to do, don’t you?”

His lips close around what's in his mouth, tight, sucking at them just like he'd sucked Wade's cock this morning. Getting them sloppy, dribbling with spit, some of it stringing out of his mouth and into his facial hair. There are still days when they're in too big of a damn hurry to care, but this foreplay is erotic on its own, too.

For a while, they linger suspended in that moment, Wade straddling his lap and watching with fascinated eyes as his fingers move slowly in and out of Logan's mouth. They look at each other, into each other, long past the shyness.

The way Wade looks at him still makes Logan burn, two parts of him trying to run away from one another. It's nice to be wanted. It's terrifying to be wanted. He thinks that the fear of ruining this is getting quieter, though. He hopes.

“Wanna try something,” Wade says all at once, his face brightening with the type of mischief Logan knows only too well. “Here – lift up for a minute –”

Letting Wade’s fingers slide out of his mouth, he does as he's told, spreading his legs a little wider as Wade reaches behind them for one of the pillows. He places it just underneath Logan's hips, turning his attention back to his naked torso, raining kisses on his body.

“Need these off,” Wade murmurs, almost to himself, tugging at Logan's boxers. Breathing shakily, he obliges him, kicking them to the floor. His cock springs up as Wade sheds him pajamas as well, resting heavy above his abdomen in anticipation. He's fucking restless for something, anything, a flurry of past positions floating past his eyes like a slideshow.

For a few seconds, Logan thinks it's his turn to get sucked off, and he's definitely not complaining. Wade lavishes attention on the meeting of his hip and thigh, biting in just the right way to make Logan jump, smirking to himself when he earns an arch off the mattress for more. Logan's palm rests on his head, encouraging. Trusting.

But he bypasses Logan's cock like it's not there. Instead, he trails past, licking a stripe down his balls, pressing his scarred palms to Logan's thighs to spread them wider, and – oh. Oh okay. Wade’s hot breath hesitates over his hole for only an instant before his tongue is tracing the most delicate circles.

“F-fuck!”

Logan squirms at the unexpected sensation, curling his toes. He feels Wade's hands twitch where they rest on his inner thighs, and looks down to see him looking back.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, s’good, I just didn't know –” Logan answers, far too quickly. He blinks, a lot, in an effort to remember how to put one word in front of the other. “You can keep going. If you want.”

“If I want,” Wade repeats wryly. “Yeah, okay, champ.”

Only capable of swallowing hard in response, Logan lets his head fall back against the mattress, his whole body tense with the thought of what's going to happen next. He feels Wade's breath back at his hole, and God, it's so sensitive there, his tongue lapping at him as he spreads his legs further.

It's not quite like anything he's felt before. It's good.

“Relax,” comes Wade's voice, light with amusement before his fucking tongue goes right back to Logan's ass. His knee gets pushed up, opening him like an old paperback.

He's aware that his chest is rising and falling and rising and falling, a rapid in and out. The little circles that Wade traces with his tongue shift into broader strokes, something deeper. Logan moans with the change, thrusting up into nothing.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, Red,” he says softly, his voice coming out smaller than he thought it would. “I don’t, I haven’t –n-never –”

He’s aware that he doesn’t make any sense, but Wade doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it encourages him, a low hum drawn from the other man’s throat as he pulls away to look at him. His eyes are massive between the vee of Logan’s legs.

“Never ever? Am I actually taking a sweet, precious piece of your virginity?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan whines. “Keep going.”

Wade ducks back down, but not before babbling something about best day of his life and definitely going on Tumblr (and it had better not).

He can’t wait anymore for Wade to touch him, fuck him, whatever he’d planned to add to the mix. Getting eaten out is such a tease but he needs more and he needs it now. Logan grasps his cock, already slippery with pre-come, and starts a rhythm that has his head swimming immediately.

With a hiss, Wade digs his nails into the flesh of his thighs, groaning into him. Logan has a feeling that if his mouth were free to say something, he’d be giving him a string of encouragement. Shit, even imagining what Wade would be saying is enough to turn him on.

Moaning out something that strongly resembles Wade’s name buried in a sea of praise, Logan grinds back on his face, chasing more, so so so close.

That’s it, baby, the Wade in his head says. Actual Wade is panting hard against his ass now, getting sloppy. Come for me. Know you want to. Pretty pretty please.

Logan’s eyes roll back. He comes in frenetic bursts all over Wade’s face and shoulder, vaguely aware that now he has pulled away to praise him, kissing up and down Logan's thigh to watch the whole show. Logan's hands scrabble in the sheets, some pathetic little sound coming out of his throat.

“Peanut, Jesus fucking Christ…”

He says something like ungh in answer, looking down at Wade covered in his come. He is so hot with that satisfied smirk on his face, it’s ridiculous. And then he takes a finger and drags it across the side of his face, where there’s a streak of Logan’s spend, and pops it into his mouth.

Fuck, okay.

Barely done from their first round, Logan’s cock twitches again.

“Got me good, Pollock,” Wade comments, still wearing that crooked grin that makes his heart do shit that Logan would worry about if he didn’t know it was always healing. “You liked that, huh?”

It takes a lot to resist the urge to say no shit, but Logan manages. Instead, he runs his hand up and down Wade’s cheek, feeling his spend there all sticky, his mind swimming with sex-drunk praise (you’resofuckingprettywantyousobadithurts).

“Gonna sit on your dick now,” he says instead, and Wade backs off of him fast to allow that to happen.

Their places swapped, Logan palms at Wade’s cock tenderly, not missing the way Wade’s lips part on a soft little ah of need. Wade’s dick is damn near perfect, fulfilling every stupid fantasy Logan had before he worked up the guts to come knocking on his door and do something about it. Bottoming out on Wade still stretches him out so full and delicious, turns him dumb in a way that topping him doesn’t – though he won't say no to either.

He lifts his hips, situating Wade underneath him, when he sees two fingers trailing up his chest.

“Sure you’re wet enough?” Wade teases. “Could finger you a little more, just to be safe.”

Fingertips land on Logan’s mouth, and oh, does this man know how to push his luck. Faking a scowl, Logan takes Wade’s middle finger playfully between his teeth and bites down hard, breaking skin and crushing bone. Blood wells up all at once, his mouth full of copper, and Wade gasps in delight as his cock twitches against Logan’s inner thigh.

“There’s my kitty cat,” he praises, grinning like floodlights. Though broken, his finger is still hanging on after he pulls it away. “Aww, you didn't bite it off this time.”

“‘M feelin’ generous.”

“God!” Wade laughs as Logan guides himself down, trailing off halfway through whatever quip he’d cooked up. He grabs Logan's thighs, moaning at the sensation. “Fuck, princess, you’re still so fuckin’ tight –”

As Logan seats himself fully, he can tell that Wade’s already regretting not being on top. His mouth is doing that cute little scrunch thing it does when he gets impatient. But Logan loves seeing Wade all desperate, too horny to think straight, begging to fuck him or be fucked. If Logan weren’t just as desperate half the time, he’d make Wade wait ages for what he wants. Maybe someday they’ll cool down enough to try that.

Maybe.

Because despite having already come once already, Logan’s not in much better shape. Getting eaten out had eased the way for Wade inside him, but the stretch is still toeing the edge of pain and bliss. He knows as soon as they move, it’ll melt nicely into the latter.

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Wade says, pouting. He’s already breathless, his face flushed, gripping Logan’s thighs so hard that they’re bruising and healing and bruising again in a continuous cycle. It’s so hot. “Please please please, you’re so tight, I’m not gonna last, please.”

If that doesn’t light Logan up from the inside out, nothing will.

Pausing only to give him a yeah, okay, Logan grinds his hips down hard. Wade’s answering whine is like magic, high and keening, something that Logan’s going to replay in his mind over and over like the mixtapes high schoolers used to make for each other to flirt. He could probably pick out each individual note, tell you the crescendo, see the arc of it burned on the inside of his eyelids.

Wade looks like a porn star underneath him, mouth hanging open, eyes unfocused, hips meeting Logan’s perfectly every – fucking – time. Logan’s cock is flushed and hard between them again, slapping skin with every thrust.

“Logan,” Wade moans out.

Logan’s thrusts get just a little harder, a little faster. That tight tight sensation of climax sits somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, in reach if he worked for it, but he’s nowhere as close as Wade is. Wade’s delirious with it, right there sitting on the brink, and Logan feels like he’s on fire with how sexy he finds the man.

“Yeah?” Logan purrs back.

“So fuckin’ close, right there, gonna come –”

“I can tell.”

Later, Wade will give him shit for being such a tease – and tell him how hot it was. But for now, Logan pins both of Wade’s wrists in place, knowing he’ll try to cover his face. He wants to watch the whole show, not just the trailer. He lets his fingers trace through the other man’s, a part of him loving the added intimacy, and greedily takes in every second of Wade coming inside him.

“Lo-ogan, ah, shit shit shit –!”

Wade rolls his hips up slow and deep as he comes, head thrown back, filling Logan with warmth. Logan honest-to-God shivers, knowing his cock is drooling all over Wade’s stomach just from watching him. Playing with him a little, Logan gently thrusts down, stimulating him through the aftershocks just to watch him gasp and jolt. The little sounds he makes after coming, all fucked-out and satiated, are right up there for Logan with the usual sounds of sex.

(Huh. Maybe he likes Wade’s voice even more than he thought.)

Wade's face is still flushed when he can make eye contact again, and Logan only smiles at him, pleased with himself.

“No fair,” Wade grumbles.

Logan leans down to kiss him, bumping their foreheads together. They’re both covered in a fine sheen of sweat, among other things, and he lingers there to get Wade to kiss him back nice and slow. At this point, he really does feel drunk, heavy-limbed and satisfied without the theoretical liver damage.

“Don’t see what’s unfair about it,” Logan replies once they’ve broken away again. “Just gave me a damn good show on top of a phenomenal fuck. If I could reach my wallet right now, I’d tip ya.”

“Peanut, I swear on Fox Studio’s grave, if you keep pulling this kind of dialogue out of nowhere I’m going to have a stroke.” Wade turns to glare at a random corner of the room. “And you had better watch it. We did not talk about this before the chapter started.”

Threats to no one aside, Logan just shakes his head, unfazed. Something makes him want to keep talking, and he’s not sure if it’s how loose and warm his body feels, or the day they’ve had, or a combination of both.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come,” he confesses, and Wade looks up at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and horror.

“Oooookay, that’s enough for you, big guy –”

Wade struggles to get out from underneath him, attempting to lift his hips, but it’s no use. Logan sees it coming and shifts his weight more fully onto the mattress, effectively trapping him in place.

“Nope,” he says, unable to keep from sounding a little smug. “Think I’m gonna set my big adamantium ass right here until you learn to take a compliment.”

“Yeah? And what if I shoot my way out?”

It doesn’t surprise Logan in the slightest when Wade pulls the .45 from behind the headboard and aims it between his eyes. It does, however, annoy him. He sinks down further, aware that Wade’s gone soft, come slipping loose in a steady stream between their bodies onto the sheets.

“Rhonda’s gonna be pissed if she hears a gunshot, you know that. Slap us with another fee for damages, and I sure as shit ain’t coverin’ it just because you don’t want to hear how goddamn good you look.”

Wade’s finger plays with the trigger, stroking it as if in thought. His mouth scrunches. In all honesty, Logan wouldn’t mind a shot or two – it’s been a while since he’s taken one, and he knows Wade wouldn’t get him anywhere awful. They like each other well enough to spare major head wounds now, and that’s typically the only unspoken rule.

But to his surprise, Wade puts the gun back where he’d stashed it, flopping his head back on the pillows with a dramatic sigh.

“Fine, you monumental pain in my ass. What else do you want to tell me that’s so important?”

Logan pauses a moment, amused. He wasn’t quite sure he’d get this far. Half of him pictured this ending in an all-out bloodbath – the kind they’d have to replace the sheets and the carpet for. Maybe even have to paint the walls again. God, he wishes they didn’t live in a fucking apartment – or the city.

“You’re hot as hell, Wade,” he starts. Wade’s mouth is very scrunched, eyebrows drawn down in a similar pout. He looks like he’d rather be sitting on a stick of lit dynamite than listening to this. “What, you didn’t think I thought that? When we’ve been fuckin’ each other senseless for this long?”

“Just thought maybe I had a magic dick,” Wade mutters.

“Hah. Never said you don’t.”

Logan finally lets Wade’s cock slip out of him entirely, crawling up until his mouth is inches from Wade’s. The proximity makes the other man’s eyes dilate, breath catching, and Logan could live off of the thick smell of sweat and lust and come they’ve created in this room together.

He kisses Wade, quick, just a taste, and leaves him wanting more.

“You’re fuckin’ funny.”

Another kiss, this time a little deeper, Wade reaching up for him with half a grin on his face. He’s getting hard again – Logan can feel it against the muscles of his abdomen. The next time Wade's mouth collides with his, he brings teeth, taking Logan's bottom lip and pulling hard enough to make him moan.

“You’re – wild – to watch in a fight. Sweet – to the people you care about.”

They’re making out in earnest now, Logan gasping to get the words out as Wade drinks him up.

“You –uh!”

Caught off guard, Logan doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as Wade flips him on his side. Nose to nose with one another now, he lets Wade continue his desperate barrage of kisses, hooking an arm around Logan’s neck. Their stiff cocks rub together, tantalizing friction, and Wade trails his lips to Logan’s ear.

“You like me all that much, get on your hands and knees.”

His voice is low and sultry in a way that lets Logan know that they’re far from done. Laughing softly, Logan does as he asks, Wade moving around him as if they’re different parts of the same body. Planting his palms on the mattress, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Wade slides his cock against his ass, the briefest tease, before placing himself at his entrance.

He doesn't waste time pushing back inside. Logan's body takes him easily, a breathless sound of excitement leaving him as Wade’s hands come to settle on his hips. Though he can't see Wade's face, he can feel the shift in energy – he can hear Wade's heart pumping fast, sense his heightened enthusiasm.

Settled inside Logan up to the hilt, Wade shifts his hips in a lazy figure eight.

“You ready?”

Logan nods, his uh-huh coming out like a groan of pleasure. He stares down at his own spread hands, the ruined sheets, biting his lip as Wade continues to tease him.

It doesn't last long. Less than a second passes between his confirmation and Wade’s first sharp thrust, bullying Logan forward before he can get his bearings. Wade wastes no time in setting a punishing rhythm, leaving him helpless to do anything but arch back into what he's getting.

He pants and moans every time Wade comes close to nailing that spot, feeling his claws start to slip out bit by bit. Their mattress topper is in bits and pieces under the cover of the sheet, more foam chunks than anything now, and he's about to make it a lot worse. Logan lets himself sink claws deep into the padding, leaning his face forward into the pillows to muffle the most embarrassing of the noises he's making.

Wade isn't letting him get away that easily.

“That's my fucking big boy,” he breathes, and Logan lights up with a blush bright enough to color his fucking chest. His cock jumps. “Take me so well every time, don't ya? Every – fuckin' – inch?”

Oh god oh fuck.

“Wade,” he says into the pillows, practically mewling out the word. Latched into the mattress with his claws anchoring him in place as Wade nails that incredible place right there oh fuck oh Christ. “Hah, fuck, you gotta slow down, or – I –”

“Or what, sweetheart?”

A clever hand reaches around to jerk Logan's cock, nice and deep the way he needs it, and Logan moans so deep in his throat it comes out more like a growl. Wade matches his thrusts in time, slower now but fuller, getting Logan to cry out louder than he'd ever admit he gets.

“You gotta slow down, Red,” Logan manages to repeat, but he already knows it's no use. “Gotta s-slow down, oh f-fuck!”

He comes much harder than he thought he would, hissing out a string of swears into the poor abused mattress. Coating the sheets below him, watching as some dribbles onto his thigh. Wade pushes his hips higher, fucking him through it like it's easy, his fingers brushing soothing circles as Logan shivers and spills and pants.

His whole body tingles with that sensitive sensation he's come to equate with powerfully good sex, with a certain look in Wade's eyes or a tone in his voice. He's going to feel this later, the honey-hum ache lingering in every muscle, but it's more than worth it.

“Flip over,” Logan insists after the moment has passed. “Wanna watch you come again.”

A cocky tsk from behind him catches Logan off guard. A gentle hand lands on the curve of his ass. Loving.

“Aw, peanut. Baby. Who said you were done?” Wade’s voice comes out light and cheerful, but they both know what the undercurrent holds.

Yeah, he's definitely in his bossy little top mood now, Logan thinks. Not that he doesn't find it incredibly hot. But it's also fun to be a bit of a brat every once and a while.

“Don't think I can,” he tries, sliding his claws out of the mattress but settling firmly. “C'mon, Wade. Fuck me ‘til you finish.” Logan hesitates. “Please?”

An equally long pause. He can almost hear Wade thinking.

“Nahhh,” he decides. “You can do one more for me, then I'll fill you up until you fucking drip.”

This time, the pointed gap in the air is for Logan to really say no, use a safe word, if he needs to. And he definitely doesn't need to, doesn't want to. Besides, he's never been one to back away from a challenge, especially if it's Wade who's handing it out.

“Yes, sir,” Logan says mockingly, lifting his ass back up in the air.

He hears Wade make a strangled little noise of want before gripping his ass tight.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, pushing Logan down until he's flat on his stomach on the bed.

Logan’s pretty sure he whines at that. It’s hard to tell anymore.

To say that the sheets are saturated in come would be an understatement at this point, but Logan can't focus on that as much as he's focusing on getting hard again, Wade’s teeth sinking deep into the side of his neck. The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure, a drop of water in the ocean – and Logan’s fucking dying of thirst.

He breaks the skin. Granted, it takes a little more effort for him to do it than it does for Logan, but he doesn’t mind the extra gnashing around. Chewing on his neck like it’s a goddamned squeaky toy. He’s flattered by it, in a way, that Wade would do all that just to spill blood for sex.

Wade’s tongue laps at the ring of blood he’s produced as he presses into his ass again, slow, and Logan can tell that he’s trying to hold back. To really spoil him with this extra orgasm, instead of keeping it all tit for tat. He doesn’t know why – he’ll pester him later about it and only get ‘cause I love you and I wanted to, you fuckin’ beefslab of a man, in answer.

But right now, Wade’s hot, panting mouth trails to Logan’s ear, and his teeth pull on the lobe, hard. Logan bares his neck further with a near silent intake of breath, wordless permission, and that’s all that Wade needs. Without further ado, Wade’s teeth seize around the loose cartilage and bite, ripping it off in a gush of blood.

“Fuck –!” Logan hisses, feeling the warmth of it trickle down on the sheets near his face.

“I’m trying my best, dollface,” Wade says sweetly in reply. Logan wishes he could see him. “You have no idea how good you look like that, all spread out like a two dollar whore on nickel night. Really putting my stamina to the test.”

He sighs, moving his hips so gently he may as well not be moving them at all. Despite insisting that Wade come a final time so that they could be finished with the whole romp, Logan finds himself growing impatient. There’s blood in it for him now, literally, and his cock is throbbing where it’s trapped against his stomach and the bed.

“But when a Scout makes a promise, they keep a promise. Right?”

“I promise you’re a pain in my ass,” Logan huffs. “Wade, c’mon, if you’re gonna fuck me then fuck me, don’t just –”

The words screw around are a little lost in the sudden snapping of Wade’s hips. Logan gasps instead, taken off guard by the instant ferocity of it. One of Wade’s hands grips a fistful of Logan’s hair, rough, incredible, while the other palm stays firm at his hip, holding them both in place.

“What were you saying, honey badger?” Though the words are innocent, Wade’s voice hits his (regenerating) ear in a mocking growl, all exertion.

Logan can’t even form a fucking sentence, let alone a smartass response. Wade knows him well enough, is smart enough to know exactly where his prostate is, how deep to press and for how long. He can play his body like an instrument few have taken the time to learn, let alone master.

Sinking his claws back into the mattress, scrabbling for any sort of purchase, Logan presses his face into the pillows with a desperate sound. He wants to tell Wade how good it feels, that he’s nailing his prostate just right, stirring up a heat inside of him that no one’s ever quite hit before, so good he wants to sob, but all he can do is lie there ass up and gasp out with every thrust. He tries to match Wade’s pace, hold the rhythm.

“Am I nailing your g-spot, baby?” Wade purrs, and something like scandal and delight war for attention in Logan’s mind. “Yeah, I feel you, pussy so fuckin’ tight.”

“Wade, o-oh Christ,” he says, breath hitching. Tears sting the corners of his eyes and he’s torn between so many points of pleasure and his cock is gliding as Wade pushes him forward, he’s going to come again, just as Wade had said he would – “ – Wade, Wade, Wade –”

He’s still chanting Wade’s name, voice rising an octave or so, as orgasm hits him like a goddamn train. The warmth of it coats his belly and chest, his face muffled deep into the pillows – tears and spit dampening the material. He arches back hard as Wade thrusts a handful of times to finish not long behind him.

“Fuck,” Wade says under his breath. “Kitty cat, oh fuck yes.”

The quiet that falls after, only their combined breath, is so deep and peaceful that Logan passes out almost right away. He isn’t sure how long Wade lets him sleep – only that he wakes up to his shoulder being shaken gently, Wade standing beside the bed with a fond smirk on his face.

“You’re gonna be stuck to the bed if you stay there like that, cowboy,” he tells him, offering a hand to help him up. “C’mon. Let’s get clean.”

Logan makes a grumpy sort of sound, too comfortable to want to move. “Only if we get to sleep all day tomorrow.”

Wade’s face brightens at the idea. “Fuck yeah – pile all the blankets on the couch and order takeout?”

It sounds like a dream come true.

“Yeah.”

Logan takes his hand. Once they’re clean, with the sheets and blankets replaced, it’s the deepest and most comfortable sleep of his life.

[tsukikoayanosuke]

One's Dazzling Light - Ruikasa Week 2024

Day4: Fantasy

Rui always thought that the world was cruel. That happiness doesn't exist in his play of life. The curtain rose to reveal a dark wood where he lived since he was born. A poor peasant couple; the toy maker husband and the housewife. In a world where magic surrounded the air, what could a pair of magicless humans do? 

Neither of them could raise a child of magic. Not just any magic; the Pure Darkness. A magic of jinx and curse. A magic that could bring ruin to the world. 

A magic bestowed on the only son of the poor Kamishiro family. 

His parents tried their best. They did. They loved him more than anything in the world and he lived him back. His father taught him about crafts and his mother taught him about flowers. 

But Rui was a child. A lone child who only wants friends. 

And yet no children his age wanted to step onto his stage. They shun him for having the cursed magic. He could count on one hand the children who eventually accept him the way he is; a shy mermaid named Nene who accidentally swam too close to the beach when he was practicing and a knight-in-training named Mizuki who had been outcasted for being too feminine. 

Those four people are the people Rui kept close to his heart.

And the world decided to take them away almost immediately.

"I got accepted!" Nene said to him, happy tears streaming down her cheeks. "Phoenix Orchestra. I get to sing and travel the world."

He didn't have the heart to beg her to stay.

"I'm going to the Knight Academy next year," Mizuki said to him. "Do you want to join in as well?"

He just shook his head, knowing he had no place there.

"We'll be home in just a week, okay kiddo?" His father ruffled his hair.

"Don't forget that we love you." His mother kissed his forehead.

They never came home. Their carriage was attacked. It was not an accident, Rui knew that. The punishment of being the parent of a cursed child. 

They tried to kill him as well, but a burning house could never hurt him. He sent it back to them, burning them to the bone. After all, Pure Darkness magic could increase misfortune. Perhaps he accidentally cast it upon himself. But he no longer cares. 

If the world tries to kill him, then he'll destroy them first with his own hand. 

"I understand you," the spotlight shone upon a lady in black with pink hair who smelled like death. She offered a hand toward him. "There are many who seek justice, to restart the world with a blank canvas. With your power, we shall bring salvation to those who seek." 

"What must I do?" 

"There are people who are the opposite of you; four people hold the power of Pure Light. Find them, bring them to me, and with the power of Pure Darkness, we shall create a Utopia." 

Rui, who has nothing left to lose and a desire to see the world crumble, took the hand. 

The title 'Alchemist' was bestowed upon him.

The world trembled before his title despite never seeing his true appearance for his illusion magic. In his search for those Pure Light, he brought judgment upon evil. Those who commit crimes will receive punishment from him. Those who wish for revenge upon their enemies, he shall fulfill it. The true Utopia may not come sooner, but he shall bring a little salvation to the people.

*****

In the small provincial town of Phenny, Rui had found one of the Lights. He had sensed a shift in magic the moment he stepped into the town. It was warm, inviting, peaceful... It was everything that Rui wasn't. A Pure Light, such presence they had.

It brought him to an inn. Rather crowded this late in the evening, filled with drunkards and knights off-shift. Rui schruched up hin nose. Could the Light possibly be here in this lowly place?

"Rui? Is that you?"

Rui turned toward the voice and saw a familiar pinknette, now dressed in a silver uniform. "Mizuki..."

"Hey, man!" Mizuki ran toward him, not hesitating to hug him. "It has been a while!"

"I thought you were still studying at the Knight Academy."

"I am. I'm in my final year, so we had a one-year service thing."

"Who are you servicing to?"

"Oh, just some guy." Mizuki didn't look at him as they waved their hand nonchalantly. A gesture of avoidance. They were hiding something and Rui had his guesses.

"Mizuki!"

There it was. A Pure Light walking toward them. Taking a figure of a young man dressed in simple, yet elegant, clothes at the same time; a suit, blue hat, a bow as a tie, and a coat over its shoulder with constellations. Hair as gold as sunset and eyes that shine with innocence.

The Light widened its eyes. "O-Oh. Hello! Are you a friend of Mizuki?"

"You can say that." Rui smiled just for pleasantry. "I'm Kamishiro Rui. And who might you be?"

"Tenma Tsukasa. But you can call me Tsukasa." It offered its hand and Rui took it. Such power radiated from that hand, sending shivers down their spines. "Are you a traveler?"

"You can say that."

It smiled. "Well, I hope we see each other around."

For a prey to invite its predator into its nest, perhaps the Light was more gullible than Rui thought it was.

*****

Passing Akito's room, he could hear the sound of him humming. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, the Wanderer is often one who announces his presence with either a whistle or a caw of his eagle. 

This melody, however, sounded more cheerful, more passionate, and filled with excitement.

"What are you humming about?"

Akito raised his eyebrow from his spot on his bed. Book perched on a thigh and a pencil in his hand. "Why do you care?"

"Just curious."

Akito rolled his eyes and looked back to his book before writing something. When Rui thought he had decided to ignore him, Akito said, "It's just something Kohane taught me."

"Kohane?"

He paused. His gaze shifted to avoid Rui. "I mean, the Light."

Rui chuckled. "Oh, aren't you getting too chummy with it?"

"Shut up. It just happens we have the same interest."

He jumped off his bed and pulled his hood. "Where are you going?" Rui asked when Akito walked past him.

"Meeting-" He stopped himself. "I mean, keeping an eye on Kohane."

"Sure you are."

For a Darkness and Light to be friends... 

How ridiculous.

*****

Phoenix Orchestra arrived at Phenny. It was said that this small town was the birthplace of the most well-known orchestra in the entire country. The same orchestra that Nene joined. Thus their reunion happened in Phenny.

"Rui!" Nene was never one with physical contact, but she leaped into his arms. Even in his cold heart, Rui couldn't deny returning it. "It has been too long."

"I'm glad I can see you again."

"Me too." Nene pulled back. "Oh! I need to introduce you to someone!" She pulled him toward a small pinknette with a smile so wide. "This is Emu. She's the daughter of the head orchestra."

"Hello!" Emu took Rui's hands and shook them hard. "It's nice to meet you! Nene told me a lot about you!"

"She did?"

"Yup! I would love to get to know you!"

Rui couldn't help but chuckle. "Likewise."

"Oh! Oh! Now it's my turn to introduce you to my friend!" She pulled them toward the inn where Rui was now staying. And upon entering, he could hear the sound of a piano. A beautiful melody; soft and inviting. The Light sat there, eyes closed and smiling softly. Fingers glided down the keys, foot pressed the pedal to a ringing tone. A harmony that left Rui speechless. 

"It's just something Kohane taught me."

Was this what Akito felt when he met his Light? To hold a melody close to his heart and cause a change of heart.

When the piano stopped, Rui craved for more.

"Tsukasa!" Emu leaped into Tsukasa's arms, almost causing him to fall from his seat. 

"Emu! I didn't know you were coming back."

"We'll be here for a couple of months! Keisuke is thinking of holding another audition soon. You should try in." 

Light smiled and patted Emu's head. "I'll think about it."

"But you always said that!" Emu pouted.

"It's a hard decision, Emu."

"And why is that? If I may ask," Rui asked.

Light looked at him. His gaze softened and sighed. "I have a personal reason. I don't want to be a bother."

"You'll never be a bother," Emu said again. "Everyone will love you. I just know it! You'll be a star! Don't you want that?"

"I did." He sighed again. "But that was just a phase, Emu."

Emu stared at him with a slight sadness and Rui was curious about that answer.

Thus, when one night came as Emu, Nene, and Mizuki hung around at one table, Rui walked up to the piano where Light was playing once again. Even after a couple of times listening, Rui could say that he was quickly attached to Light's playing.

"What do you mean 'it was just a phase' last time?"

Light smiled. There was a hint of melancholy in his gaze. "I always know my time is limited. I can't let myself indulge in dreams." He glanced at him. "Aren't you here to take it away quicker from me?"

Rui hummed. "So, you know."

"Pure Light and Pure Darkness always resonate with each other. I've never met with you fellow, but I had sensed you the moment you arrived here."

"Are you going to fight me for your life?"

Light paused his playing. "Tell me, Rui." He fully looked at him. "Do you know what it means to bring salvation to the world?"

Rui didn't answer. The question haunted him in his sleep.

*****

"Rui, do you think we're doing the right thing?" Shizuku had asked him one day.

Rui turned to her. "What do you mean?"

Among the four of them, Shizuku had always been the most compassionate. She loves humanity, which includes her sister who she hadn't seen for a long time. The secret of her being the Pure Darkness was spoken and the guilt of leaving her sister behind always burdens her. 

"Minori told me," Minori was the name of the Light assigned to her, wasn't it? "that maybe we're heading to a decision that we couldn't go back anymore." 

"We are aiming for a Utopia. It's only normal that once the world is rewritten, everything won't be the same."

"I know that." She looked at her hand as Pure Darkness danced between her fingertips. "But still." She brought up her hand to her chest and smiled. It wasn't like the cold smile of the Songstress who charmed her victims. But it was Shizuku's smile; a smile filled with warmth. "I think I want to try to live in this world with her for now."

*****

The Light - Tsukasa - stood in the middle of the plaza, surrounded by children. There was a hint of jealousy blooming in Rui's heart. How funny that he hates the sight of children playing around him. He had gotten close these few days under a self-reassurance of building trust. His conversations with Tsukasa about their daily days were pleasant. In the evening, Tsukasa would play at the bar for his part-time job. Rui had asked once why he even bothered to have a job. Tsukasa just answered with, "I just want to experience life."

That was also a thing that Rui was confused about: the desire to live. Rui had given up on life for he had nothing else to do other than wait for salvation Lady Death would bring. Watching Tsukasa going on with his daily life (buying cute stuff for Mizuki with his own money, attending Nene and Emu's rehearsal, inviting Rui for stargazing), Rui wondered if he could do this as well in the new world. Perhaps, if he ever met Tsukasa again, they could live together and experience it.

...

What was that thought again?

"Do the magic, Big Brother Tsukasa!" One of the kids cheered. "Do the magic!"

Tsukasa giggled. "Alright, alright." Tsukasa looked up to Rui, smiling and offering a hand. "Come and give me a hand, Rui."

Rui frowned. "Me?"

"Yeah, come on." Tsukasa skipped to pull Tsukasa into the circle.

"Is he magic too?" One of the kids asked.

Tsukasa nodded. "Yeah, and a great one." He turned to Rui, still smiling at him.

"Are you sure?" Rui whispered. "Pure Darkness brings destruction."

"And Pure Light brings creation." Tsukasa opened his palm and Rui's keen eyes could see magic dancing on his palm. "When combine..." Tsukasa brought Rui's hand closer. "A miracle can be created."

Their hands joined together and Rui could feel their magic intertwined. It felt so right. The wind picked up underneath their feet, fluttering Tsukasa's coat and Rui's robe, carrying white and black feathers. The children cheered from the spectacles. When they reached for the feather, it burst into fireworks and bubbles. 

It was beautiful...

A feather landed on Tsukasa's head and it burst into bubbles. Tsukasa giggled and Rui's heart skipped a beat.

*****

"Luka, I don't want to do this anymore." 

Lady Death didn't even look surprised when Mafuyu stood up from her seat. The table felt so empty after Akito and Shizuku's departure, leaving only a pot of a single black lily in their seat. 

"Kanade had told me everything. You lied to us." 

"You trust the Light more than me?" Luka commented. 

"You never told us anything about sacrificing us all!" 

"What?" Rui looked between the two. "Mafuyu what are you talking about?" 

Mafuyu turned to him. The Marionette had always been emotionless, but at the moment Rui could see the great anguish in Mafuyu's eyes. "In order to create a new world, you need to destroy the first world before creating the new one. If Pure Light is the power of creation, what is needed for the destruction?"

"Darkness? We already know that Mafuyu-"

"The Pure Darkness is tied with our own soul. The same goes for the Pure Light to Kanade's. Once magic tied with one's soul, it became harder to extract." She turned back to Luka, glaring at her. "Any attempt of extracting Pure Darkness or Pure Light won't only result in death, but also the erasure of our existence."

What?

"What... What are you saying?"

"We won't be able to enjoy this Utopia is we disappear for good!" Mafuyu curled her fingers into a fist. "The only one winning here is Luka! She's just using us to get all the Pure Light and later killing us to get the Pure Darkness!"

No...

"Luka..." Rui stared at her. "Tell me this is not true... We're not going to die, right?"

Luka never answered them. But her silence was enough.

"I don't want to die..." Mafuyu lowered her head. Rui couldn't see her face, but he knew the devastation feeling she felt. "I don't want to leave Kanade... She's the only one I have..."

*****

"Sacrifices need to be made to reach one seemingly impossible goal," Tsukasa said as they stared into the sunset from the hill of white lilies. It was a secret place that even Mizuki wasn't told about. And yet Tsukasa showed it to Rui out of all people. "Four Light. Four Darkness. For one utopia that we won't be able to enjoy. Is it worth it?"

Rui turned to look at him. "Are you saying it's better just to let evil roam around this Earth?"

"No." Tsukasa shook his head. "Evil can't roam freely if law and order exist is being held up high." He looked up to the orange sky. "If a Utopia is a paraside where people can do whatever they want, then what's stopping them from doing evil again? Light and Darkness, good and evil, will always be there. One cannot be there without the other. How can one judge that something is evil if good doesn't exist? How can you say you've done a good deed if you don't know what evil doings are?"

"So, what do you suggest?"

"It's a tough question." He reached to snap a lily of its stem, bringing it closer to his nose to smell the scent. "But I don't think bringing the end of the world is a good solution." He giggled. "I still love this world and the people in it."

Tsukasa looked at him with a smile as soft as the sunset as he tucked the lily behind Rui's ear. His fingers lingered on his cheeks for a second too long. Rui caught his fingers, pressing Tsukasa's palm onto his cheek as he kissed it.

"I don't want to die," Tsukasa whispered.

"I won't let you," Rui answered. He leaned into Tsukasa's face and pressed their lips together.

He understood now. He understood why Akito resonated with Kohane's music, why Shizuku wanted to live together with Minori, and why even the thought of leaving Kanade brought Mafuyu to tears.

Rui always thought that the world was cruel. But the simple action from Tsukasa, his Light, made him want to stay in this world together with him.

*****

The city was empty when Rui arrived and immediately he felt dread.

Luka is here.

No no no no no.

Rui ran.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be here!

The inn was empty when he barged in. Not even the sound of the creaking window. The bartender who usually already working on his order, was nowhere to be seen. Rui could feel the darkness coming from upstairs inviting him, challenging him.

Rui ran up and slammed the door open.

There, under the moonlight that shone through the window, Luka stood in the middle of the room. With an unconscious Tsukasa in her arms.

"You really think I would let walk out of our deal that easily?" She smiled at him. "Out of all the Pure Darkness, you were the last person I expected to betray me. I guess all those big talks about hating the world are just for shows."

"Luka..." Rui knew he had the power and yet he felt utterly hopeless under the gaze of Lady Death herself. "Let him go."

"Didn't I tell you?" Luka glanced down at Tsukasa, eyes gleaming with greed. "We need the Pure Light if we ever going to create Utopia."

"But you also need us Pure Darkness."

"That's true. But you'll come." She stepped back, separating Tsukasa from Rui even further. And Rui couldn't even lift a finger. "You will all come. All of you are attached to those Lights. And I'll be taking everything."

A portal appeared as the wind picked up again. Rui could feel the world shift, returning to its original form before being visited by death herself.

And Tsukasa slowly opened his eyes, dazed. He didn't even register that he had been captured. All he knew was that Rui was standing there, just a few feet away from him. "Rui..."

He reached out for him. And Rui snapped as if a freezing spell was finally being lifted from him.

"TSUKASA!" He ran toward the pair, arm stretched to reach his Light. But before he could even graze a finger, Tsukasa was gone.

He's gone.

Tsukasa's gone.

Luka caught him.

He's going to die.

All because of Rui.

"Rui!" He didn't even realize Nene was there, clutching his shoulder and shaking him, because Tsukasa was gone. Luka has Tsukasa. He's gone. Rui couldn't stop her. She's gone with Tsukasa.

"We'll find him." Nene clasped his cheeks, grounding him. "We'll bring Tsukasa back."

Bring Tsukasa back...?

"We'll bring him back." Mizuki knelt beside him, hand on his shoulder. Emu gave him a determined nod. "Not just to stop the end of the world."

Right. They can Tsukasa back.

Rui looked at his hand. A hand that could bring disaster with his magic. But Tsukasa believes that he's a good person, even if his hand is cursed.

Rui would believe him. He clenched his fingers into a fist, feeling Pure Darkness flowing in him.

"Wait for me, Tsukasa…"

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

No witchy Wednesday this week. Life decided NO.

[cringe-but-proud]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade reacting to his gender neutral crush kissing him because they're so in love with him before apologising when they realised what they just did please?

Ofc!!

X-Men with a gn!crush!Reader who suddenly kisses them 🤯🤯🤯

Includes: Remy LeBeau, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, and Kurt Wagner

A/n: I love them a normal amount. This took me a long time to write because tumblr kept deleting all of my work 😋😋😋 But, it’s here now. Hope you freaks annoy it. Requests are OPEN 💜

Remy:

It happens one day when you guys are in the kitchen cooking together

Remy (ever the opportunist) is helping you out by occasionally guiding your hands or gently grabbing your waist/hips whenever he moves past you. And you're definitely not complaining

Overall, the vibes are very flirtatious and cutesy, and you sort of get caught up in it.

After the food is in the oven and Remy is washing dishes, you walk over and kiss him.

Remy damn near drops the bowl he was rinsing, but he manages to keep his cool and almost immediately starts kissing you back

You're the first to pull away because it suddenly clicks for you that you're kissing your friend, so you break the kiss to start apologizing

"What you apologizing for, mon Ami?"

"I kissed you."

"And? I certainly didn't mind."

Remy has liked you for a while. That was pretty obvious to everyone. Everyone except you, since you thought he was just being flirty with you like he was with nearly everyone.

But, that's obviously not the case. He makes sure to make that very clear.

Once all of your feelings are cleared up, Remy pulls you closer to him by your hips and smirks softly. "You wanna try and kiss me again? For real this time?"

His ass did NOT finish those dishes 💀

L ogan:

He comes back from a long mission, exhausted and not really in the mood for dealing with anyone

Well, that is until he sees you walking down the hallway. Then he decides he can maybe deal with one more person.

You're happy to see him back, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace that he didn't know he needed

"Ugh, I missed you!"

“You say that every time I come back from a mission."

"Yeah, because it's true."

He missed you too, but you don't need to know that.

You pull back from him just to lean in and kiss him.

That's probably the last thing he expected you to do. I mean, yeah he really like you, but he'd always been certain that you'd never want a guy like him.

After a moment of shock, he starts kissing you back, arms tightening around you

You pull away to ask "is this okay?" And he doesn’t even let you finish, just pulls you in for another kiss.

Sorry. He’s just wanted this for such a long time.

Wade:

He's liked you for a pretty long time. But, he knows you probably won’t like him back with how he looks. And he tells himself he’s fine with that.

But, since you two have been friends for a while, you get curious. So, you ask if you can see his face.

He agrees eventually and pulls his mask off to show you.

Normally he doesn't get so nervous to show people his real face. But, it's different with you. He doesn't think he can just laugh off your disgust.

When he pulls his mask off and your eyes widen, he immediately assumes the worst

"Yeah. Hideous, I know. Not the chiseled supermodel that I sound like under the-"

"Wade, you're like, hot."

"Excuse me?"

He can't believe it. Actually, he doesn't believe it. After you repeat yourself, he starts telling you that he doesn't need you to lie to him and that's when you cut him off with a kiss.

He pulls away immediately just because of utter shock "Woah! Cool down, hot stuff. What are you doing?"

You tell him you've always liked him, and that you still like him (maybe even like him more) now that he's shown you his face.

He's over the moon.

"Well, why didn't you tell me sooner? We could've been doing this all along!"

"Doing what?"

And then he kisses you again. Heheheheehehehe 👅👅👅

Kurt:

Kurt loves helping you with anything and everything whenever he can. It’s one of the ways he shows his appreciation for you.

So, when you receive a (very minor) injury during training, he’s at your side almost immediately

He drags you away and makes you sit down, treating your small cut as if it were a leg that had fallen off

“Don’t move, Schatz. I will be back with a first aid kit.”

“Kurt, you don’t need to-“

“Stay, please.”

So, you let him patch you up, and he does far too much for a wound that you could probably just slap a bandaid over

But, you don’t mind. You admire him as he’s crouched down to the floor, delicately treating the small cut on your knee

And then he looks up at you with those bright, yellow eyes and he smiles. And you can’t help yourself. You lean down to him and kiss him.

This poor boy is so surprised he can’t do anything. He just freezes up. So, you assume you’ve done something wrong and you pull away.

“I’m so sorry. I thought- I was just-“

“Please do that again.”

“What?”

“Please.”

And you do 🧚‍♀️

[kokokoula]

you fall first, but he falls harder

a/n: i can only write fluff, so please trust me that it's fluff. there's like, one usage of 'she', timeskip spoilers, and a bit of language. it's my longest fic yet (which isn't saying much), no beta we die like daichi

you don't know that tsukishima kei knows about your crush on him. it's so damn obvious, how you turn red so easily when he's around. unfortunately for you, though, he doesn't reciprocate, nor does he bother confronting you about it. you are his closest friend other than yamaguchi, and as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn't want to lose you as one. it's so tedious, anyways.

---

"it's our last year in karasuno, do you have anything planned?" you ask as you lay on the floor of tsukishima's room. you're supposed to be studying, since it was what you came over to do with kei and tadashi, but you gave up somewhere halfway in geography.

"it is my last year, but who knows about you? you've been slacking so much, you'd probably have to repeat a year. and could you get up?" he sighs and nudges your side with his foot.

"asshole," you mutter, cheeks growing red. if you know that he just dodged your question, you don't do anything about it. "just you wait, i'll enroll into kyoto university and make you eat your words, beanpole."

"sure." his reply drips with sarcasm, but he doesn't doubt that you can make it far. there's a knock at the door.

"sorry for being late!"

"tadashi!!"

---

kei knows you can read him like an open book. you can tell he's having a bad day just by a conversation with him through text. he also knows that when he says that he doesn't want to talk, you immediately ring his phone.

the first time it happened, he had tried to decline your calls, or just ignore them entirely, but you're insistent. eventually he picked up, filled with pure irritation at that point.

"could you--"

"i'm heading over. i promise i won't push for any details. i'll even get strawberry shortcake on the way." you immediately stated. he paused to mull it over.

"fine, but if the cake sucks, i'm kicking you out." it's safe to say that the cake was good enough to make this a habit, so much so that tsukshima doesn't even know why you still call him to let him know you're coming over. the both of you know you will no matter what.

so here you are, sitting on his bedroom floor with him and eating desserts in silence, save for the music playing softly from his computer.

"you're gonna get in trouble with your parents when they realise you snuck out." he remarks. you shrug your shoulders, stuffing the remaining taiyaki in your mouth.

"i know."

"don't talk with your mouth full." you roll your eyes with a furious blush. somehow, you being here with him becomes sweeter than the strawberry shortcake.

---

you were there when tsukishima made the decision to go professional with volleyball.

his last match as karasuno's middle blocker had ended. his body was sore all over, but somehow the freak duo managed to convince him and yamaguchi to play one more match back at school, just the four of them with yachi. but even with landing third in nationals and a final intimate match with his teammates, he still somehow felt so unsatisfied.

the walk home with you was silent. he was grateful you didn't say anything. he couldn't handle any more questions about how he was feeling when he himself was unsure. it was when you two stepped outside the convenience store after getting ice cream did he come to the conclusion that he never wants to have a last match.

"i'm not going to give up on volleyball after graduation." he announced out of the blue. you were caught off guard for a bit, before grinning at him. "i expected that."

"why?"

"you call hinata and kageyama freaks for being so insane about volleyball, but you don't even realise that you're just as equally crazy about it as them." you said it so nonchalantly as you eat your ice cream, like you're stating a fact. now it was his turn to be taken off guard. he took a while to let it settle in before chuckling softly.

he should have known that you know him better than he does himself.

---

it's graduation day. tsukishima and kageyama are stuck with their four teary-eyed friends by their side. kei awkwardly pats your head, not knowing how to comfort you. you laugh at his feeble attempt, your rosy cheeks burning red. have you always been this cute? in the midst of all the bittersweet interactions, you get distracted by something on your phone, and let out a gasp.

"what is it, (name)?" yamaguchi asks. you're trembling slightly, and tsukishima grows worried.

"i, uh, got into kyoto university," you say in disbelief. "i actually got in!" everyone congratulates you, but you only care about one thing.

"tsukki, remember that day i told you i'd make you eat your words?" he hums in acknowledgement. you shove the acceptance email in his face, but he can only focus on how proud you look with that shit-eating smirk. "what do you have to say now, beanpole?"

he smiles. that's my best friend right there.

"nothing."

---

you were gone before the new year, and kei was handling your absence well until semester started. he had believed it'd be fine, you were only across the country, not across the world. plus, you promised you would call as often as you could.

but he doesn't sees you in his classes anymore, and you don't come over when he's having a bad day. he got himself strawberry shortcake to lighten his mood like it usually does, but he only feels hollow. it doesn't help that since he's going pro, his volleyball training is almost everyday now, and with your commitments, he rarely gets to call you anymore. it hurts like hell inside.

"hey tsukki, you've been off recently. is everything ok?" tadashi calls him one day.

"i'm fine, yamaguchi." kei lies. tadashi isn't convinced.

"does it have something to do with (name) being in kyoto?"

"why would you say that?" he answered too quickly for his liking.

"well, you bring (name) up quite a bit, and when you realise she isn't there, you get all quiet and snappy." tsukishima is about to retort back, but then it hits him.

oh shit, he's in love.

---

the day you finally return back to miyagi to visit, tsukishima waits at the station with yamaguchi. kei's eyes are constantly searching the crowd and flickering to his watch every so often.

"tsukki, relax, she'll be here soon." he ignores tadashi's reassurance.

tsukishima kei is a composed man, always able to think before he acts. but when he catches sight of you, he runs. before you can register anything, he hugs you, gripping onto you like a lifeline, like he will die if he lets go of you.

"tsukki--"

"gosh, i missed you so much, you idiot." he knows you could have easily lost feelings for him when you were away.

"wha--"

"i've suffered so much because of your stupid, dumb ass." he doesn't care.

"wait--"

"i like you, so go out with me before you have to head back to kyoto." you're back, and he's scared to lose you again. every second you stay quiet, the louder his heart beats in his ears.

"really?" you finally say, your voice barely over a whisper.

"yea." another pause.

"guess i'm yours then, beanpole."

bonus:

"you know, i knew about your crush back in high school."

"what the heck?"

"you didn't necessarily hide it well."

"then i'll have you know that yamaguchi told me everything that had happened when i've been gone."

"...fuck."

[loguine-linguine]

Ok hear me out!!!

Steve is a musician who sings pop music and posts on TikTok. He’s kind of a C-ish list celebrity (definitely a bit of a nepo baby) and his music is poppy and catchy. It’s the kinda stuff that you can immediately tell is coming from someone who is actively holding things back/ isn’t writing from any truth. Mall music at its purest form. Then one day with no announcement Steve drops a double sided album that is like GOOD GOOD pop music. It’s also noted very quickly that the pronouns in all the songs have definitely switched to he/him. People freak out and he starts charting for the first time in his career. Kinda Chappell Roan-esque situation where he skyrockets to being a queer pop icon very very quickly.

He starts doing interviews. He shows up to these interviews in outfits aren’t dramatically changed from what he usually wore (polos, jeans, bomber jackets, 80s jock vibes) but it’s all just much more camp. The cropped shirts are shorter, the jeans are tighter, and the colors are all suddenly pastel. He has also started wearing makeup (not heavy makeup but it’s definitely a lipgloss, eyeliner, mascara, highlight/blush on the tip of his nose type situation). He shares that he dropped his old producer (who he had been set up with by his father) and that he’s now working with his best friend Robin. He comes out as gay, talks about his struggle with comp-het, and proudly shares that he is super excited to contribute to the growing movement of music that is being written by queer people, for queer people. His TikTok also blows up.

This is when Tommy Hagan first starts showing up. Tommy is an actor who is pretty well known for doing teen drama TV shows (like Riverdale type deals). He introduces himself to Steve at some sort of industry event right after Steve gets big and pretty quickly starts showing up in his TikTok videos. It comes out that the two are dating pretty quickly after that. They date off and on for about a year and a half. Tommy is a shitty enough boyfriend that even Steve’s fans don’t like him. He stands him up for dates, embarrasses him at events, says rude and dismissive things about his music, etc. Robin (who is also kinda famous by proxy/writes her own music now similar to Billie Eilish and Finneas) absolutely hates his guts. Publicly. They finally break up officially after Tommy cheats on Steve with an actress named Carol who is on a show with him. It gets exposed by the tabloids and Steve finds out by seeing a photo of them making out on one of those celebrity drama TikTok accounts.

Eddie is also getting famous around this same time. He’s the lead for Corroded Coffin and also starts acting occasionally in horror films. He doesn’t really pay much attention to other celebrities or the drama that goes on. He was never into that kind of thing before the band took off so he doesn’t see why he should now. Eddie and the rest of the band are at an awards show of some sort and the others make fun of him the whole time. He can’t stop staring at this absolutely beautiful man sitting at a table near them. “The guy is wearing a slutty little lace shirt, the tightest pants in existence, and has skin that looks like honey and caramel had a child Gareth you really can’t blame me honestly.” Steve and Eddie don’t officially meet until the after party where they immediately hit it off.

A few months later Steve announces a new album and releases a single. It’s just Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter but gay and clearly about Tommy.

The music video comes out and people loose their minds. It’s the same sort of video as what Sabrina Carpenter just released for Please Please Please with the stunning outfits and the whole bad boy thing. Steve spends the whole video in dresses and skirts. There’s even a corset at one point. The bigger freak out is the fact that the Barry Keoghan equivalent is Eddie and its a hard launch of their relationship that fans had absolutely zero clue was even a possibility because why would horror/metal man Eddie Munson even know Steve Harrington???? Robin and the Corroded Coffin guys think the whole thing is hilarious. Eddie and Steve are so so happy :)

[s1m0nth3swag]

Francis Mosses x GN!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE; Haven't written in a while, but thanks to Arlo, a friend (Hi Arlo, I know you're reading this), Inspiration about Francis Mosses struck (he bought me That's not my neighbor and then continued to freak out about Francis with me) so I wrote this. I have so many thoughts about Francis, so... tell me if you want more because i will deliver ngl. Enjoy (or don't, I don't dictate your feelings)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Porn with little to no plot, Submissive Francis, a little non-consensual at the start (but not in a super weird way, imo?), Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, tried to write as GN as possible with the compliments and thoughts about Readers appearance), not proofread nor have I thought about this much, more a drabble than an actual thoughtful story (not apologising because I had such a long break from writing anything and obviously it's gonna suck a little when I come back)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

The first time Francis had realised that he hadn't gotten any touch from another human being was when someone brushed up against him on his way home from work. He had felt like a creep afterwards because he hadn't stopped thinking about what could've happened if the person hadn't moved away and had just stayed pressed against him. That was a week before you started your job as a doorman.

The second time Francis had noticed was when a friend of his had spoken to him on the phone, talking about his new girlfriend. Said friend gave too much intel on their sex life. Francis had wondered if he could have someone the way his friend explained - he quickly brushed the thought off. That was two days before you started working as a doorman.

The third time, he noticed when you had smiled at him. It was your first day, and he was tired from work. You had repeated his name after reading it off of his ID, and he had looked at you for the first time since his eyes kept falling closed, and you smiled so brightly. You had told him his name was nice, and you said it again. Francis swore that the way his name rolled off your tongue was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. Not even an angel could sound more wonderful. Suddenly, he was a lot more energised. Totally not thanks to the fact that he had immediately grown hard the second he had seen your smile. He had gone to his apartment that night and had jerked off for the first time in probably months. He had always been too tired to previously, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how you'd sound moaning his name. Maybe you were more of a groaner, or you'd whimper and whine. He came as he imagined how you'd look sucking his dick.

Since then, Francis has always looked forward to entry checks. What had normally kept him away from his bed and a good night's sleep was now the best experience of his day. He loved the way you spoke to him even though he was too nervous to respond. Sometimes, he deliberately didn't show his ID at first, just so you'd ask about it, and he could listen to you talk a little more. He felt guilty about it. He knew you had never agreed to feed into this weird little obsession of his. It was awful of him to do this - have you talk to him enough to give him more scenarios to think about that night.

A few weeks after all this had started, Francis had built up the courage to finally ask you out. Just something simple, dinner at his place. He had to cook for himself all the time. Cooking for you as well wouldn't be too different, right?

Francis was wrong. He was anxious that the food wouldn't taste good and kept tasting it just so he could make sure it hadn't mysteriously switched tastes in the last 20 seconds. When you knocked on his door, he took a minute to make sure he didn't look like a mess - though you wouldn't mind either way since he always looked like a mess when he came through during your shifts.

You looked so good when he opened the door. Your hair fell perfectly, your lips looked a little too kissable, and Francis had to stop his train of thought just so he wouldn't embarrass himself by having yet another boner caused by just the way you looked. You were a little shorter than him, smiling up as he let you inside.

"You look good." He mumbled, his cheeks flushing. He seriously had to lay off thinking like a high-schooler. His nervousness and awkwardness were getting really annoying - to him, at least. You grinned, chuckling softly as you took off your shoes. "Thank you. You do as well." His heart for sure burst at that - he knew something else would burst as well if he didn't stop thinking right this second.

Throughout the evening, ignoring his thoughts came easier and easier. The two of you had eaten, you had told him he was a good cook, he had almost excused himself to the bathroom because of it. Now you were sitting on the couch, drinking wine and talking casually.

"You know, when you first walked through, I swore I would die." You giggled, looking at him with a mischievous look. Francis was confused by that statement. "How come?" He asked, tilting his head at you in question. "I was sure you were a doppelganger. You looked too handsome to be real." You cheekily answered, cheeks slightly flushed as you downed your wine. Francis blushed heavily, looked away from you, and thought about your words for a moment. The silence was loud as he wondered what to answer. "..you think I'm handsome?" He questioned while looking at the floor. If he had looked at you, he'd have seen the way you stared at him, your own cheeks coloured a deep red. "Extremely." You muttered. It took him a minute before he could look at you, but when he did, his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss.

When you reciprocated, Francis groaned and pulled you closer until you sat on his lap. He was just a tiny bit embarrassed when you gasped and felt his dick press against you. In all honesty, he had held back the entire night, and he was allowed a little selfishness. "Sorry. Can't help it." He muttered between kisses. You just grinned against his lips before grinding against him. A whimper fell from his lips - that was the moment he was actually embarrassed. "That's cute.." You had mumbled, a cheeky grin on your face as you started placing kisses against his jaw and neck. One of your hands trailed down his body to rest right over his crotch, Francis unconsciously bucked his hips up against your hand, whining. He didn't notice anything else as you caught the skin of his neck with your teeth carefully, leaving the softest bite mark on him. He shuddered at the feeling and gasped before realising that you had meanwhile unzipped his pants. A groan slipped from his lips as you ran a finger over his dick, still hidden from sight by his boxers, but god knows he would cum the second you'd touch it without. "Is this okay?" You asked him, and he nodded faster than he even knew he could. "Yes. God, yes. Please, please continue.." he muttered, his breathing heavy as he watched you slide off his lap, settling in front of him and between his legs. His dick twitched at the sight, and he let out a heavy sigh. Minutes later, his pants and boxers were discarded, and the way you looked up at him, his dick so close to your face, made Francis feel the way his orgasm was approaching way too quick. The second you wrapped your hand around him he whined pathetically, bucked up into your hand and knew that he'd definitely cum too soon. Your hand was so soft, cool against his hot flesh, and you worked his dick so good he almost thought you were a professional. He looked down at you through lidded eyes, watched the way you bit your lip, and grinned knowingly. "Such a pretty boy, huh?" You chuckled, and that definitely sealed the deal for Francis. He came, probably ruining his shirt as he dirtied both it and your hand. His heart stopped for a second when you licked your hand while looking up at him. "You didn't give me enough time to taste you properly. Don't look at me like that." You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. "You should probably take off your shirt so you can clean it later." You then winked. He swiftly shed the piece of clothing, entranced by your voice and the way you looked. "Sorry, didn't mean to cum that fast.." he mutters, his voice out of breath. "Jus'.. unused to... this.." he added, clearing his throat awkwardly. You laughed and shook your head. "Don't worry about it. We have all the time in the world to make you last longer. I'm gonna give you a real reason to be tired tomorrow." You winked.

Francis didn't even mind that he was in for a long night.

Your honour I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

[vivwritesfics]

Hii!! Could you please write a Max verstappen x soulmate reader. Like they can speak in each other's minds and how they first met. Like fluff or angst or whatever you want . You make the call. Please 🥺🥺

LMAOOOO IM LITERALLY WRITING THIS FOR RHETT ABBOTT

Nothing, just an inchident. Fucking asshole.

Those were the first words her soulmate ever said to her, the first time she heard his voice in her head. She stopped what she was doing, looking around with wide eyes.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

And that was how it started. The two had be so fucking surprised, buy recovered quickly. They gave awkward introductions, without actually telling each other anything about themselves.

It took the two of them a moment to realise that, whatever they thought, the other person could hear.

It seemed the two of them hadn't shut up since.

She learnt pretty quickly that he loved to talk, that he loved explaining things. He was a nerd, he loved gaming. She could have listened to him go on about gaming for hours (and she often did).

She couldn't remember what she had told him. Definitely everything but her name. God, how long had it been since his voice first entered her head.

Hey, she said as she woke up.

There was usually no response as she waited for him to wake up. She'd tried to use this to work out where in the world he was, but he was always moving, always on different time zones.

A few hours later, there he was. Hello, schat, he said in her mind. A small smile crossed her face. Are you doing anything nice today?

He rarely spoke about his own day, she noticed. But it wasn't a problem. If he wanted to her know, she'd know. My dad got me tickets to see my local race with him, she replied, pausing her makeup to concentrate on talking to him.

There was a beat before he responded. You still there? She asked, pausing on her eye liner.

What race? Cars or horses?

Cars, she responded.

Again, there was a moment of silence. But then, Not the Formula One, right?

She thought back to what her father had told her. Yeah, the Formula One.

Her soulmate when quiet after that. There was a good few hours where she finished getting ready and went with her father to the race track. All that time she'd been trying to talk to her soulmate, and all that time she'd been getting nothing in return.

It was a little disheartening, thinking her soulmate didn't want to talk to her.

No, it was really disheartening.

As she and her father sat in the stands, she couldn't help but sulk. What had she done to upset him so bad he didn't want to hear from her? Of course he could hear everything she was thinking, but she didn't much care if he wasn't going to reply.

But then all twenty cars were on the track and the lights were flashing red, ready to go green.

I'm going to win this one for you.

It had been so unexpected, it nearly had her jumping out of her seat. What? Are you here?

As soon as I'm standing on that podium, you'll know it's me.

She must have realised it then, that her soulmate was down in the number on Red Bull car. She didn't take her eyes off of it for the entirety of the race (unless she was forced to). Holy shit, that was her soulmate down there.

And he did win it. Won it for her. She watched it all, him finishing first, the podium celebrations.

How do I get to you? She asked as she hopelessly looked around. Max Verstappen was her freaking soulmate!

Stay right where you are, schat. I'll come to you.

She told him where she was, apparently able to do that now she knew for sure who her soulmate was. And there she waited as he finished a debrief with the team and got changed.

But then he was striding towards her, cap pulled low. For so many years he'd been just a voice in her head. And now he was in front of her. Smiling down at her with surprise in his eyes.

"You're beautiful." Those were the first words he said to her, the first words that weren't echoing around her head.

"So are you." Wiping her hands on her jeans, she held one out and gave him her name.

Max took her hand and shook. "I'm Max," he said, wearing his usual pretty smile.

Holy fuck, Max Verstappen really was her soulmate.

[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

��So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

[hanjisick]

Orders.

genre. mafia au. bodyguard!lee know x fem!reader

desc. your father is an elite, high ranking official in a mafia family. after your first kidnapping, a bodyguard was hired to ensure your safety.

warnings. nsfw. fingering & sex. torture. kidnapping. murder. violence.

wc. 10k

✉️ : this is my first writing after a 9 month hiatus. i apologize for the unannounced break and i will be answering and writing again shortly. enjoy! :)

You sit in a wooden chair, wheezing and thrashing from days of sleep deprivation and torment. Your body aches, wrists bruised and bloody from the ropes, and you almost feel like giving in and spilling Daddy’s secrets— allowing them to kill you and the family.

But you knew better than that. You knew that you'd be saved.

The gunshots and cries for help weren't unexpected from above the dark bunker.

With an ear-piercing creak, the door swings open and the shadow of a man emerges through the doorstep, shoes squeaking with fresh blood underneath.

He doesn’t let out a single word as he kneels to grab your face and examine it. Your attention follows the ring on his finger. An insignia that he is part of the family. You can depend on him.

But still, you wince, sharply inhaling as his fingers aggravate your wounds.

“Don’t get their blood in my wounds, I don’t know what kind of freaks they are,” You grumble, voice husky from days of screaming.

You let him turn your head, retaining eye contact with the floor as you grit your teeth.

“Relax,” he mumbles, “I don’t bite.”

He leans closer to examine your wounds. “You took a lot of hits. How many people are here?”

He draws back as you reply, “Can’t tell you exactly.”

“About four of them grabbed me while I was leaving the house— stupid on their part, no wonder you were here so shortly,” You trail off before catching yourself back on topic.

“But I’ve only seen three different men since I’ve been here. Only to beat me and interrogate me. Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything to put Daddy at risk.”

“I heard two other unrecognizable voices. That would make nine people in the building that I know of. Of course, there could always be more. How many did you shoot?”

“Six,” he responds before looking down at your scrapes and wounds again.

You feel him caress your cheek once more, his cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“If there’s more here, we need to get out as soon as possible. We can worry about my wounds as soon as these people aren’t on our ass.”

You struggle in your bounds, the ropes burning your already bloody wrists, “Could you untie me, first?”

“Don’t move.”

You obey his command, halting as he unties the ropes, uncovering the painful burn marks and blisters.

“That fucking hurt,” you rotate your wrists, “I could’ve gotten out without your help eventually, though.” Your voice is rough, breath coming out in harsh, sharp drags.

“Sure, you would’ve.”

You stumble to your feet as he pulls you into him for safety. He reeks of gunpowder and high-dollar cologne— presumably something that Daddy has made sure that he has the money for.

“Stay close to me, when we get to the front, you go out first and then I’ll leave right after.”

You follow the unfamiliar man out of the maze, almost slipping on the floor blanketed in blood.

You adjust to the bright sunlight— and it feels gentle against your damaged skin. It seems like time has stood still while you were captured. “Did Daddy order you a car?”

“Yes,” he answers, “Some men are waiting out front to take us to the closest hospital— which isn’t too far.”

“I’m being hospitalized?” You follow him into the backseat, finally slacking for a moment ontop of the fresh leather.

“It’s not my choice to have you taken to the hospital, it’s the orders.”

“Do I have a statement to tell the nurse?” You look at him in concern.

“Am I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I was kidnapped by Daddy’s enemies! By the way, he’s in the mafia! Who wants to arrest Daddy?’”

“Tell them you fell down the stairs.” His flat tone contrasts your own, remaining unfazed.

“How would that cover up my wrists' burn marks?” You hold up the bloody and bruised dents, “Nobody gets these from falling down the stairs. There's way too much blood— and some of it isn’t even mine.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking over to the burn marks on your wrist and then back to you.

“Then tell them you accidentally burnt yourself while cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me? Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, not seeming to care about the situation.

“It’s not hard to pay them to be silent.”

“How about I tell them that I was heavily bullied at school and a couple of classmates did this to me? I think that could work.”

You two arrive at the front entrance of the emergency room, he follows behind you, strolling through the automatic door.

“I’m fine, really, I was just beaten by classmates,” You lie through your teeth to the front desk, “My boyfriend took me here to get it checked out.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You comply with the nurses as they check your weight and interview you.

“I don’t have any stab wounds, at least I don’t think so— I don’t remember what they did to me. I was held captive for a few,” Your voice trails off as you wince at a sudden pang.

You glance down at your bleeding side and are unexpectedly whacked with all of the distress that you had been repressing at once.

Your vision starts to fade, face pale as a ghost.

The man rushes over as they carry you to a bed, and he kneels beside you to review your condition. Your body is pale and cold, breathing jagged and rapid.

You hear the whispers of the staff panicking. One nurse checks your pulse, and another elevates your legs.

“I need my blood sugar up,” the first words that come out of your mouth sound weak and painful.

You look over at the man beside you.

You need to lie. But you don’t even know his name.

“Boyfriend,” you determine, “please get me a sugary drink from the vending machine.”

A subtle smirk forms upon his lips, but it vanishes as soon as it appears.

“Fine,” he rises to his feet.

You hiss as the nurses sterilize your wounds, shrieking and thrashing on the mattress at the sting. You try to stay still, but the pain is intolerable.

Footsteps echo and you find the man returning with a chocolate bar, which he holds out to you. He brings it close to your lips and holds the chocolate against your mouth for you to take a bite, “Slowly.”

“I told you to get me a drink,” You disregard his command, biting the chocolate quickly, almost aggressively.

His lips turn up, amused by your action.

The nurses finish stitching up your deep gashes and bandaging your wounds, recommending that you stay the night.

“Pay for the bill with Daddy’s cash and let’s get out of here,” you state coldly, “I need to shower and get all of this blood out of my hair. I don’t want to stay here.”

“As long as you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.” He replies. The man takes out a wad of bills quickly counts the money and pays for the bill.

You stay speechless until entering the car.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your bodyguard. Your father hired me to look out for you after the kidnapping.”

You nod in acknowledgment. “Will you be staying at the estate with me? Or is it a ‘only when I leave the house’ kind of deal?”

“My primary duty is to protect you from anyone or anything that could harm you, whether that be outside or inside the house. I could go wherever you wish me to follow you, and I will be there.”

“You won’t sleep in bed with me though, right?”

He stays silent for a moment.

“You are correct, I am here to protect, nothing more. I will not sleep next to you. I am merely your bodyguard and take your orders.”

“Good boy,” you grin, “I bet Daddy will pay you very nicely. Why else would you take this job? How much does he give you? Either way, I’m sure you have enough to buy a mansion.”

The bodyguard holds back an eye roll. “I will have more than enough money. Not only that but he also provides me with a home.” He adds with a smirk.

“Good.” You reply.

You fall silent, allowing him to drive, taking in the past few days.

You were never worried about surviving, You understood that Daddy would handle it. But you didn’t expect to be as hurt as you were.

He could’ve saved you sooner.

“When we get home, order the chef to make me something sweet, I deserve a treat,” you state, “I’m going to shower and you are not allowed to enter my bathroom under any circumstance. Even if I’m dying.”

“You would die before letting me enter your bathroom? I get it.” He retorts.

Once you both arrive at the estate, you stumble out of the car. You don’t linger for him.

You’re welcomed by a handful of workers as you enter the home, but ignore them as you make a beeline up the stairs and towards the bedroom.

The door locks behind you and the room is silent. You feel the weariness creep on as your wounds sting. You lean against the door, sliding down.

After a moment of peace, you head towards the shower to comb the dried blood out of your hair.

You scrub your face carefully, avoiding the stitches above your eyebrows.

You wash your body entirely, removing the blood stains with soap, water, and a wash rag. Then you comb out the dried blood.

Once you finish, you dry yourself off and dress in a plain, silk nightdress.

Leaving your bedroom, you turn to look for your guard. He is at the doorway of your room when you walk out. His eyes roam around your body for a brief moment, examining the nightgown.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Did you place an order for something sweet, like I asked?” You peer at his suit, moving in to adjust his tie.

He follows your hand as it moves, eyeing you for a few moments before he utters, “I did, the chef will be bringing it to your room once it’s prepared.”

“Good boy.”

You look up at his face once you are pleased with the positioning. You grimace at his sharp, cold face. The blood was dried, brown, and unpleasing. The man’s hand relaxes on the gun holstered on his hip.

“I order you to come into my bedroom.”

His eyebrows crease. He understands his role as your bodyguard— nonetheless, he doesn’t get a kick out of being ordered around in this tone.

He takes a deep breath. “Your wish is my command.”

The room is massive, a silk-covered canopy bed sits in the center of it. He pays no mind to looking around, concentrating on the job at hand.

“Sit down on my bed,” you demand, steering towards the bathroom and pushing open the double doors.

He obeys your orders without question, crossing his legs, and keeping his hand resting beside his gun.

The bodyguard keeps a close, attentive eye on the doors, supervising the way that you soak a washrag with warm water, squeezing out the excess.

You sit beside him, grabbing his chin and leaning into his face. He tenses.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” you smirk, reiterating his first words from the moment he met you back to him, massaging the dried blood off of his face, “No guard of mine will have a messy appearance.”

You can tell that he feels uneasy, but he can’t reject you. If you wish for him to relax, he will make an effort to relax.

You can’t help but notice his complexion when he isn’t scowling. The apathy melts away as you wipe the dried blood, giving you a new perspective on his appearance.

“You’re handsome,” you state bluntly, “Especially without blood covering your face.”

You toss the rag into the laundry basket carelessly, waiting for a maid to take care of it.

“Thank you.”

“What is your name? You never told me.”

His eyebrows arch slightly at the question.“It’s Minho.”

“I am Y/N,” You reply, holding out your hand to shake his own. His grip is firm and warm.

He keeps a stoic face as he glances at your face and back at your hand, as if he is searching for an ulterior motive behind this handshake.

The food.

The bell rings and the sound of it shatters the stillness of the room. Minho’s head jolts towards the door, hand back on his gun.

He rises instantly, opening it to reveal the maid with a tray of sweet snacks.

He takes it from her. “I will bring it in.”

“What a good boy, Minho,” you praise, clapping your hands together as he sets the tray on your lap.

“I don’t take you for a man who enjoys sweet food much. Do you like sweets?”

“Sometimes.”

You unwrap a piece of high-dollar chocolate, “I command you to open your mouth.”

Minho can’t deny you, it would be disobeying your orders.

He opens his mouth as the chocolate is positioned between his lips.

You relish in the chocolates with Minho and once finished, you set the tray on the floor for a maid to pick up at sunrise.

“I don’t think I mind you being around all that much, Daddy makes good decisions.” You lay down on the mattress.

“Your father does make good decisions.”

His gaze wavered on your face until you drifted off to sleep. Only then did they slowly trail down to your body.

The way your body was built captivated him. Minho was glued to your sleeping form.

He stayed in the room, taking a seat on a chair in the corner to watch you.

He didn’t know how long it had been since you had dozed off, but by the way that the room was now pitch black and noiseless aside from your figure rising and falling, he would imagine that it had been a couple of hours.

“How long are you going to sit there?” Your sleep-filled voice questions him, causing him to snap out of his daze, hand reaching for his gun out of instinct.

“Do you sleep? Are you allowed to sleep?”

“I will only remain in the room as long as you order me to. I do sleep,” He replies, “Now is there anything else you need my assistance with? Or can I return to my duties?”

“So you’re only staying in the room because I ordered you two hours ago?” There’s a tinge of dismay in your voice, but it was masked by sleep, “You can leave if you want, I don’t mind.”

Minho felt a sudden pit in his stomach. You sounded disappointed by his statement.

Your words are perplexing him, and he can’t conclude what you want from him. To stay or to go?

“Should I stay for a bit longer?”

You were already asleep again once he had responded.

You and Minho both wake to a maid opening the blinds and ringing a bell. You groan, stretching your body.

“Miss, let’s get you dressed for today.”

She pulls your nightgown up above your head as Minho’s eyes wander toward your laced underwear.

“What’s on my schedule for today?”

He quickly forces his gaze to look away and stares back at the maid.

“We want you to heal from your injuries, miss,” she answers, “we will start with a nutritious breakfast to encourage recovery, and attend to your injuries, and then you will speak with Daddy about your incident.”

The maid buttons your fitted dress, glancing in Minho’s direction, “Your bodyguard will need to be there for your conversation with Daddy.”

“He will?”

“He needs to tell Daddy what he witnessed from the facility.”

You nod, following her lead down the stairs and towards the breakfast table.

Minho follows suit, remaining at your side the entire time and he watches you eat, staying observant and cautious.

“Are you hungry?”

This question catches Minho off guard.

“No.” He adds in a dull tone— but in actuality, he is starving. He was entrusted to watch over you. He shouldn’t eat on the clock.

“Maid, go order,” You look Minho up and down, “A side of crepes. Blueberry crepes. And two cups of coffee.”

The maid hurries to the kitchen to place the order, and it is brought out a couple of minutes later.

He stares at the crepes being placed on the table, and his belly grumbles. “Thank you.”

The maid carries the mugs of coffee to the table. But it doesn’t take Minho long to catch sight of her cunning smile and the perplexing liquid that the maid slipped into the mugs of coffee.

He stares quietly, calculating his next action.

“Don’t drink it.”

“Why not?”

Minho’s sight narrows as you bring the cup of coffee to your lips.

This time, his tone is warning and direct. “It’s better that you don’t.”

You halt your sip at his harsh command.

The maid pulls out a handgun swiftly after realizing that she has been caught, aiming it at you.

A switch swiftly flips inside of him.

He lunges forward, grabbing the woman’s wrist and twisting the gun to the right, snapping a couple of fingers in the process.

It’s a rapid movement, and he had little time to think before shooting her in the head, watching the life leave her body. His face is apathetic and almost casual.

The maid’s blood spilled onto the floor as the others ran to clean it up.

“He passed the test, we can keep him. A promising guard so far,” Daddy compliments from behind you, “Urgently acting to protect. He knew that she was mindless and weak. He comprehends crises well.”

The older man slips a wad of cash into the breast pocket of Minho’s suit. “Good on protecting her. That was a setup with a stupid maid who was just aching to betray us. You will have the same fate if you are wavered by another team.”

“I think he’s a good boy. He won’t betray me.”

“Y/N, meet me at my office. Guard, follow her.” He swiftly turns away to lead the two of you as you eye Minho.

“You can relax now. No more tests.”

He nods in understanding, heeding silently towards the office.

“Tell me about what you saw at the facility.”

You nod. “Four men had taken me from our garden entrance and used Chloroform to knock me unconscious. I woke up in their van, where my hands and legs were tied. I heard them talking about what they planned to get out of me. They had intentions of murdering me if they got to a week of no answers.”

Minho listens to your explanation with hawk-like eyes, paying close attention to all the details and descriptions.

You clear your throat, running your fingers across your bruised wrist, “I was tied to a chair in their questioning room, and they used forms of torture for me to open up.”

“I was deprived of sleep and beaten if they caught me closing my eyes— trying to get my lack of sleep to cause me to open up about your activities.”

Daddy nodded solemnly, leaning into his chair.

“Waterboarding was their favorite method, but they enjoyed beating me. I assume that was mainly for fun.”

You continued, “Minho appeared and killed a couple of them and saved me, but most are still alive.”

“Still alive? You didn’t find and kill them, bodyguard, why?” Daddy’s intense eyes moved toward Minho, who appeared unbothered.

The fact that he missed a few guys is enough to drive him crazy.

“I had to get her to safety as soon as possible.”

Daddy merely nods. “I will send my men after them. Y/N, did you get any names?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything about themselves, but I saw a couple of signs of their rival gang.”

“Guard,” he veered towards Minho, “Describe the faces that you saw. I need as much information as possible.”

“They look to be between the ages of 20 to 30, their faces covered in scars. One man had dark skin, and his facial scars were faded. His most notable feature was a slit across his brow. He wore a dark suit. I left him alive but with a bullet in his arm. The other man had a lighter skin tone and his scars were similar to knife wounds. He had gotten away.”

The boss nods.

“Good. I can work with that. Never let my little girl get into trouble like that again, alright?”

The second the words ‘my little girl’ leave his mouth, Minho can’t help but gaze at you. He observes your reactions and motions.

His heart beats by hearing his boss call you that, and his attention is now focused on every single twitch that you make.

“The nurses will be waiting in her bedroom shortly. Be good and do as they say.” He adds, snapping Minho back to him.

“Guard, do not let her go against any of the nurses' rules. She can be convincing. Do not give into it.”

“Yes Sir.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to leave the room.

“Stay safe.” That is the last utterance of the boss before you drag Minho out of the room and towards the bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” a nurse commands you, and you quickly obey.

She dabs at your abdomen stitches with antiseptic soap and your eyebrows furrow.

“You can’t move around much, got it? No exercising for three weeks until we get these stitches out.”

You agree as she moves on to your wrists, rubbing cream into them, “You’re going to visit us twice a day for six days until the healing is almost complete.”

She yanks a bandage off of your face, causing you to groan in pain. She rubs another ointment on it before substituting it with fresh dressing.

Minho supervises each step that the nurse takes, noticing how she takes care of your body as if it’s her most precious gift.

She turns to Minho, “I need you to make sure that she’s well rested, drinking enough water, and not doing many straining activities. Take her back here once again in the evening, and then we will see her again this time tomorrow morning, got it?”

“Yes, I will take care of her.”

“What about him, nurse?” You eye the small cuts across his face and hands.

She smiles and leans over to you. “He is well trained. Trust me, he’ll survive a few scratches.”

Your eyes narrow. “I order you to treat his wounds to the best of your abilities.”

She sighs. “Yes ma’am.”

She moves towards Minho and checks his wounds, patching the ones that were newly caused. She brushes his face softly with an ointment.

“I don’t like it when my guards don’t keep up a good appearance,” you try to explain away your worry for him, “and being injured will only slow you down when protecting me.”

The man stares straight ahead, listening carefully. “I’m fine. I’ll recover just fine. I don’t need much care as you do.”

“Let her rest now,” the nurse tells Minho, “order the maids to bring her a glass of water and have her sip on it until lunchtime.”

Once she leaves, Minho turns towards you, “I’ll make sure the maids bring you water. You need to stay hydrated”

Once water is on your table, your gaze returns to Minho

“Now, I order you to sit down on my bed with me.”

He examines you with a neutral expression and waits for you to say what you mean, not wishing to assume or take anything wrongly.

“Sit down with me,” you demand again, patting the spot beside you, waiting for him to follow suit.

As soon as you ask him to, Minho does not waver. He sits down beside you, body brushing your own.

You turn to meet his cold expression with intensity. “Do you like your job so far?

Minho is taken off guard by your switch of topic. He stays where he is sitting, but turns his body as well and faces you.

“I enjoy my duties.”

“Good. Because I’m fond of you. You’re handsome, and you are good at your job.”

He stares at you with slight surprise. “Thank you.”

Your hands grab for his, playing with the ring on his finger.

Then, you reach your hands higher, tugging his sleeve up to reveal a cluster of scars littered across his forearm.

“How long have you been in the business?”

“Since I was fourteen. I was trained from a very young age.”

“Have you always been in Daddy’s family?”

“I was loyal to your Daddy from the moment I knew what this life was like. I haven’t had a moment of doubt.”

“Good. That means you won’t leave us, right?”

“I will serve your family until my last breath. You have nothing to fear about that.”

“What a good boy,” you reach to ruffle his hair, landing a swift kiss on his sliced cheek. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.”

Minho stiffens.

“I order you to take off your jacket. I want to see your body. To see if you’re strong enough to be a good guard.”

Your words are sharp as a knife and they cut deep through his defense system. His jaw clamps and his breathing accelerates.

Minho swallows his breath, nodding his head. His movements are rigid, starting to cautiously peel off his jacket. It takes him a moment to unbutton it, but once his jacket is off, he stays there, waiting.

You slide his jacket to the floor, touching the muscles of his bicep through his button-down. “You’re fit. That’s good.”

Minho yearns for you to keep feeling him. To keep praising him. He swallows. Your words sound like a honey trap to him, and it’s working as intended.

“I order you to take off your tie.”

“Yes.”

That is all that he says, slowly slipping his tie from underneath his collar and tossing it aside.

Unexpectedly, you’re climbing on top of his body. “Take off your button-down.”

He unbuttons his shirt as your eyes sear into his chest. He is now only wearing a black undershirt.

“So many clothes,” you sigh out, groping his bare arms. You run your hands across his biceps, listening to him shudder underneath the touch.

“Take off your undershirt now. I want to see your chest.”

You can feel the heat radiating off him as he shivers. His body is now sensitive, and your hands are making it worse for him.

Your orders are evident, and he hastily lifts off his undershirt, waiting for what is next.

You can see his whole chest with all of its blemishes, with every muscle covered in sweat, exposed for you.

Your hands travel down his chest and abdomen, feeling each ragged scar with your bruised fingers. The delicate contact causes his breath to catch and a soft groan leaves him, fighting to not show that he relishes in your touch.

“Let me kiss you.”

He stares at you for a moment before his eyebrows slightly shift— his way of showing you that he approves of that request.

Minho leans in slightly and closes his eyes, gently placing a timid kiss on your lips.

You smirk against him, pushing him to lie against the bed frame and deepening the kiss. Your hands reach for his dark hair, clasping a handful in your grip.

He kisses you deeply and wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer, offering full control to you. His breath speeds up.

You pull away after a moment, lips brushing against his as you catch your breath, but only for an instant before moving towards his jaw, sucking marks onto his skin.

Minho quivers at your touch, his breathing speeding up once more as you leave red and purple blemishes on his skin. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Your mouth moves from his jaw to his neck, leaving kisses and hickeys all across him, making sure that he is covered in them.

Your hips grind against him, breathing heavily with anticipation as you make your way to his chest.

Your hands and mouth are touching all of him, and each sensation triggers a reaction that he tries to conceal.

Your lips hover back to his lips, staring at him longingly. “Do I have to command you for you to do anything to me? You don’t have to ask. You have my permission. Do whatever you want.”

You can see his gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your neck, and then towards your chest.

You swiftly lift yourself off of him to let him remove your dress, leaving your body as bare as his own.

You grasp onto his neck, bringing him in for another deep kiss. Minho remains silent as he kisses you, allowing you to leave him as many marks as you desire.

“What are you thinking, Minho? Speak to me.”

He takes a moment, letting out an unstable breath. “I’m thinking of what you are doing to me. I,” he stammers, “I want to make you feel good.”

“Then do it. Please.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he breathes out, “you’re injured.”

“The nurses said to not do,” Minho presses his eyes shut as you bring your hips up to meet his, “fuck, anything straining.”

“Remember what Daddy said? I can be convincing.” You sneer as your bodyguard fails to keep his cool composure, but the aching cock pressing into you is giving his true desires away.

You eye his internal struggle between following your orders and his cravings, or the nurse and his boss.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I can go relieve myself in the bathroom.”

“I like being hurt.”

You notice his lip twitch at the comment, and you decide to provoke him further, grinding into him, and set a steady rhythm with your hips.

He groans as his head drops back, tugging onto your hair and trying desperately to control his breath, “Please, Y/N, I just want to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me in another way.”

“I need to follow orders.”

“Then I order you to fuck me.”

His eyes pinch shut as he tries to clear his head and reason with himself.

Perhaps if he were gentle, it would be alright.

But how long could he remain gentle when you were splayed out in front of him, willing to take anything that he gave to you?

He made his decision, gripping your shoulders gently and flipping you, pinning you to the bed, and surveying your face for any discomfort.

When he finds none, he impatiently unclasps his belt, throwing it to the floor along with his dress pants, leaving him in just his boxers.

You hold yourself up by your elbows, thighs pressed together and mouth watering at the man in front of you.

His hands were delicate, although they could easily snap you in half, as he unclasped your bra, leaving your top half bare.

Minho stopped to take in the view for a moment before grabbing at one of your breasts, his mouth attaching to the other.

Your whines were like music to him— something that he wanted to hear more of.

Your back arched in pleasure as he moved one hand down to your thigh, caressing it for a moment before slowly slipping his hand into your panties.

“Try to stay quiet, darling, I don’t want any staff checking on us,” He hushed you with his lips attaching to your own once again, feeling your wetness all over his calloused hands.

His thumb brushed against your clit and you whimpered into his mouth, clenching around nothing.

Minho then plunged two fingers deep inside of you and curled them. He was becoming lost in pleasing you, overlooking his own ache between his legs.

Your thighs shook beneath him, feeling him brush against your g-spot brutally. “Minho please, please just fuck me. I want you inside of me so bad.”

At your request, he slipped his fingers out, feeling your cries against his lips from the loss of friction.

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled away from your lips, replacing them with his now dripping fingers, lapping it up with his tongue.

Next, your ruined panties were yanked off of you, with his boxers soon to come after.

One hand gently relaxes on your hips, cautious to avoid aggravating your injuries as he uses the other to guide himself inside of you, a deep groan followed by your whines.

He gives you a moment to handle the stretch, but you hardly need it, already begging for him to move.

Minho cautiously thrusts, taking in a deep breath and furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. 
This is the ultimate test of patience for him. He needs to be as gentle as possible with you.

Ultimately, he sets a slow pace, hands locating themselves on either side of you, letting out uneven breaths as he tries to control himself from how good you feel around him.

“You really do care, don’t you?” Your hand reaches to cup his face, gazing into his eyes that are hazy with pleasure.

He keeps his response short, too concentrated on the waves of bliss through each thrust, “I do care.”

“Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?”

You study him, watching his adam’s apple move as he swallows deeply, inhaling sharply. He halts his thrusts for a brief instant.

“Both, maybe. I can’t tell.”

That was enough for you to continue, grabbing another handful of his hair and bringing him in for another hungry, deep kiss.

With each deep thrust, Minho’s mind got hazier and hazier, losing himself to pleasure bit by bit. You could feel it by the way his rhythm became rough and desperate, and his pace picked up.

One of his hands left your side, creeping towards your throbbing clit, causing you to let out sobs, all of which he ate up with his mouth against your own.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He coos, knowing that you’re too lost in bliss to respond.

He takes your whines as a ‘yes’, his thumb rubbing circles faster, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing your eyes closed and letting out a lengthy, drawn-out moan as his pace picked up even further.

“Just like that. You’re so good for me, so, so good, fuck,” he talked you through your orgasm between his thrusts, chasing his own high.

His brows crease, hips stuttering at how good it felt to have you gripping so tightly onto his cock. Finally, he let go, his load spilling inside of you and seeping out.

Both of you took an instant to catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

His hands slowly traced your curves in contentment, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell.

Finally, he has a justification to gape at your body up close.

From your jawline to your hickey-covered chest, down to your bruised sides and stitches near your abdomen, and— Oh fuck.

Your wounds.

Minho slowly pulls away, feeling a sense of post-nut clarity and fright.

His hand slides away from your body, staring at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your own anxiety suddenly displayed on your face, “Do you regret it?”

“No! No,” He panics, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?“

Back in reality now, your wounds ache and your head pounds with exhaustion and overexertion.

His mind calculates the solutions to the situation— ways to explain to the nurses, to fix you, to help you feel better.

It was his shortcoming, after all. He let his urges get to him.

“Let’s run you a bath.” He pulls himself up, tugging on his boxers and heading towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap turn on, lying in bed trying to catch your breath. Your breath is harsh from both adrenaline and pain, but you can’t help but feel as though the latter is more of the cause.

You had slept with a small handful of men, primarily Daddy’s men, but none of them were quite like Minho.

He was tough but breakable. He was still kindhearted at his core— something that wasn’t all that common in the business.

You could tell from the way that he ran the bath, bare muscles glistening from sweat, running his hand through the water to make sure that it was the ideal temperature. How concerned he was about your protection, even through his pleasure.

Not many other men that you’ve met throughout your life have been the same way.

You’re quite fond of the man that you have just met.

You hear the water shut off and footsteps coming towards the room. He holds a faint smile as his steps come towards the bed. Your gaze slowly wanders to his physique.

“It’s ready for you.” He says in a slight whisper.

“I order you to pick me up and bring me to the bath.”

He nods at your order, hooking his arms underneath your thighs and back, his strong grip securing you.

You inhale the powerful stench of gunpowder stuck to his skin, finding comfort in your bodyguard’s presence.

“Will you wash my hair?”

Studying his expression, it’s hard to read, but you let him carry you and place you into the water.

‘I do care,’ you recall his words.

‘Is it because you’re my bodyguard or something more?’ ‘Both, maybe. I can’t tell.’

Perhaps you had feelings for the man, especially while he massaged shampoo into your scalp with tough hands, making sure to rub your temples.

“Have you ever been a bodyguard before?”

When Minho hears your question, he hums while he proceeds to wash you, working on scrubbing the areas where he touched you earlier. “No, you’re the first one I’ve been a bodyguard for.”

“I did things for your father before this. Not as a bodyguard, a more, I guess, dangerous role,” he dismisses the question.

“Is that so?” You fall to silence as he continues to wash you, taking his time and guaranteeing that he gets every part. He hesitates when he washes around your injuries— every stroke and movement of his hands is smooth and temperate.

“Let me relax for a minute alone,” you murmur, “You should put your clothes back on, the maids should be here any moment to take my order for lunch. They won’t find it suspicious that I’m bathing, but they will question why you’re with me.”

Minho nods and pulls away from your body.

He stands up and his feet splash on the wet floor. He takes a double take at your closed eyes.

The way your body floats in the bath is something that catches his attention. You look very pleasing in such a vulnerable position.

He leaves the room, cracking the door to make sure that you are safe.

Minho buttons up his wrinkled shirt, pulling the jacket over it and smoothing it out to ensure that nobody suspects anything.

Minho’s eyes turn to the maid who enters the room with the ring of a bell.

His demeanor is unfazed, a hand on the gun in his pocket once more. He holds eye contact, his stare intense.

He would make sure that there wasn’t another incident.

“Where is Miss Y/N?”

“She is bathing at the moment.”

She nods, walking towards the bathroom and knocking on the door.

You hum, allowing her to enter.

“What would you like for lunch, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, surprise me.”

A few seconds go by as you immerse yourself entirely in the water before rising back to the surface.

“Minho,” you call out, “What would you like?”

You hear the faint sigh that Minho gives as a response back to your question.

“I’ll just have a sandwich or something, whatever you have is fine.” He replies to both you and the maid as she exits the bathroom, fulfilling her duty of reporting your lunch choice.

The bedroom door shuts behind her.

“Minho!” You call out once again, “I order you to take me out of the bath.”

A few seconds pass before you hear Minho’s footsteps come near the bathroom once again. He grabs a towel as you stand, body bare and dripping with water.

His eyes have an intense focus as he reaches out his hand.

Minho pulls you up from the bath wraps the towel around you, making sure to cover all of you, and begins to dry off your hair.

“Minho,” you begin, “Daddy can’t know about what happened. He’d shoot you dead on the spot.”

Minho pauses for a moment, his eyes darting across the floor.

He is silent for a moment. “I won’t reveal anything to him.”

“Good boy,” you cling to the towel covering your body, “Go fetch a maid to dress me. While she does so, I want you to change out of that suit and shower before lunch.”

“Then I’ll go shower now. I’ll be back.”

You hum in agreement, stepping towards your bedroom as a maid rings the bell.

You drop your towel, letting her sift through your drawers to find decent clothing.

She eyes a hickey on your breast, along with the other injuries across your body from the kidnapping.

“Your injuries look agitated, Miss Y/N, are you sure that a bath was the best idea for you?”

“Don’t question me,” you grumble, “I took a bath because I wanted to.”

“Yes, miss.” She pulls the dress above your head smoothes it out, and clasps a necklace behind your neck.

“You’re all set for lunch.”

The moment that you come out of your room, you can feel his presence. He is leaning against the front door of the room with an unreadable expression.

He has another suit on, a fresh one. Minho’s previously muskier, dark scent has been replaced by a new, sweeter fragrance.

“First shower at the estate?” You question, “Our soaps are quite lovely and mild on the skin. You smell wonderful.”

Minho’s lips curl at the compliment, looking you up and down, “Seems that we both are putting our best foot forward.”

You look around to see if anyone is watching before leaning to ruffle his damp hair and leave a kiss on his cheek, taking the man by complete surprise. He makes an effort to regain his composure, but you can see that his cheeks are blushed from the touch.

As soon as you lean in to lock arms, you feel him lean over to you to whisper something.

“I would love to do that with you again.”

You froze in your spot, heat rushing to your thighs.

You must regain your composure, caught off guard by his blunt words, something unlike the ordinary nature of Minho.

He takes a seat across from you, watching every move that the maid makes to be sure that she doesn’t try anything— he has learned his lesson.

“Pressed Italian Picnic Sandwiches and tea,” The maid states, setting the plates on the table.

You scrunch my nose up. “What’s in it?”

“Artisanal prosciutto, aged provolone, and sun-dried tomatoes inside of a crusty ciabatta,” She doesn’t hesitate to list the ingredients, “and a fragrant blend of rare loose-leaf teas with fresh cream and sugar cubes.”

She sets the teapot and cups out, along with a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar cubes.

Minho’s hand rests on his gun, waiting for her to leave before taking a sip of tea.

You follow his action, dumping a couple of cubes into your tea and bringing it to your lips.

I finish my lunch with Minho.

“Let’s go back to my room now. I'm exhausted.”

Minho nods his head and you both finish up the meals quickly.

You both leave the dining area and stroll back to your bedroom.

As soon as you get back into the room, you feel Minho close the door behind you.

You don’t hesitate to climb into bed and lie down.

The guard looks over at you, observing the way that your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He notices every movement that your body is making.

“I command you to lay down with me.” You lean back against the bed, your body still and eyes focused on his unmoving body.

He slips off his shoes silently, slipping into the canopy bed.

You grin, curling at his side, pressing against his body.

His breathing is deep and steady as he struggles to get into a more comfortable position.

Your mind began racing with questions about the mysterious man that you were slowly falling for, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Minho,” you start slowly, “How did you become tangled with our family?”

Minho stays silent for a few moments and you feel his body shift a little against yours.

“I didn’t have a lot of money or family growing up,” he kept his answer short and simply, “the moment that this job came my way, I took it. The people connected to this business have always stayed on the down low, so this is an easy job to keep."

“Daddy seems to like you,” you grit your teeth.

Minho turns to you on the bed and sits up a little. He looks at you from top to bottom, reading the worry on your face with ease.

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“He will kill you on the spot if he finds out. He’s done that to almost every man who has flirted or slept with me.”

You pause for a moment. “God forbid the one he hired as my bodyguard.”

“I am not so easily killed.” The words leave his mouth with a tinge of arrogance.

“I trust you.”

“Good.”

There is stillness between you both for a time, but he breaks it by grabbing your chin and leaning in to kiss you. You soothe into his touch, smiling against his lips briefly before he pulls away.

“I order you to stay here. Like this.”

It’s not difficult for you to drift off to sleep beside him, and as always, Minho pursues your request, keeping a close eye on you. You relax, your breathing slow, and he notes all of the occasional twitches and movements that you make in your sleep.

A couple of hours later, the door is knocked on by a maid.

“Dinner order?”

Minho jolts awake from the knock on the door, a hand swiftly placed on your shoulder to protect you from any threats before turning his head towards the noise.

His voice is full of sleep. “Repeat that?”

As she opens the door, there is a look of inquiry on her face, one that she won’t ask to ensure her job and health.

“Is she asleep?” She questions instead, glancing over at your peaceful figure.

He turns his head towards you to double-check, observing your napping body.

“Yes.”

“Alright. I’ll advise the chef to prepare her dinner later tonight.”

She gives a sharp nod to the guard and scurries out of the room, quietly shutting the door to not disturb the girl.

Minho’s eyes rest on the door for a moment, fully alert now with a hand resting on his gun.

Eventually, he turns over to you. He has his eyes on you for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, letting out a small sigh.

You stir at the warm touch, scrunching your face up and stretching your body.

“What time is it?” You ask groggily before burying your head into his neck.

“Dinner is in about half an hour. You hungry?”

“Not really,” you pull yourself up and rub your sleep-filled eyes.

He notices your body shiver as you pull yourself up. Minho lets out a short exhale.

“Did you sleep?”

“A bit.” He doesn’t look away or turn his head as he admires the way you stand and stretch your body, smoothing your dress of its wrinkles.

You walk towards your vanity mirror, plopping down in the chair to readjust your necklace to the center. A few marks on your collarbone catch your eye.

“The nurses will be in shortly.” You grit your teeth. “I hope they don’t notice.”

“They won’t notice.”

His figure can be seen from behind you in the reflection of the mirror. His lips are turned upwards as he watches you fix your appearance.

You pull out a couple of foundations and concealers, working on concealing the marks left from earlier.

“The maids wouldn’t, but the nurses will tell the difference between a hickey and a bruise. Especially since these are fresh.”

Even though you are busy with your makeup and covering up the bruises, Minho’s eyes are never off of you. It is a feeling that you will have to get used to— always having a watchful eye on you.

Once you were satisfied with the coverage, you rose from your seat quickly.

“Get up, we’re going to dinner.”

“So bossy.” He retorts. “What will you have?”

“I want to go out, let’s go somewhere fancy. Daddy will pay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want to go out when you have had a beating just two days ago?”

He asks it like he thinks it’s an absurd idea, almost condescendingly, yet his tone of voice is soft and full of concern for you, causing your stomach to flip inside out.

“I’m tired of staying inside already. This estate is suffocating,” you pull on your slip-on shoes.

“That’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I left the house and got kidnapped. That won’t happen with you here.”

“I guess you’re right. We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“Good. I’ll go tell Daddy.” You leave the door open for Minho to come after but don’t wait for him, yet you can tell that he follows behind silently, attending to the way your body moves in the dress as you make your way down the halls.

The door is slightly ajar, so when you knock, it pushes open with a creak, revealing your father inside.

Minho stands behind you like a shadow, his lips pressed into a straight line, gaze locked on your father, keeping his distance from the both of you.

“Come inside,” the older man invites both of them with a welcoming grin, “sit.”

You can sense that your father has something on his mind, which is never a good sign.

“I was going to call you to my office shortly, anyway.” Instantly you assume the worst.

You sit down, taking a seat in front of him. Minho is still standing in the back, his priority on you and your father.

The man looks over at Minho. Their eyes lock for a moment. “Guard, go lock the door. There is a conversation that needs to be had.”

Minho nods and he turns his head, locking the door behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, who is frozen in your seat, breath hitching.

The elite man fiddles with a pen at his desk, clicking it to drown out the tense silence.

The silence in the room seems so heavy that you wonder how neither you nor Minho is feeling sick. Judging by the thick atmosphere between the three of you, it is easy to tell that he isn’t pleased right now.

He fidgets with the pen and you wait for him to finally speak.

“Do you find my daughter to be precious, Guard?” He addresses Minho with a stern voice, finally setting the pen down at his wooden desk with a smack.

“Yes sir,” Minho replies flatly.

“Are you willing to protect her at all costs, even at your life?”

After moments of silence, he answers back confidently. “Yes sir. I am.”

A hand comes to rest at his side, toying loudly with a handgun, which he eventually pulls out of his pocket.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, yet Minho stays concentrated. There isn’t a single sign of fear on his face. He is unshaken, calm, and collected as if he had been foreseeing this exact scenario.

“Do you know why you were assigned to guard my daughter, Minho?”

“I know the reasons.”

“There was a leak to the rivals from a previous staff member that I had a precious daughter in my life,” He turns towards you, “the one that I had climbed to the top of my career to protect and assure her safety and security.”

He cleared his throat before darting back to Minho, “It took less than a day for her to be taken from my hands and placed in the hands of one of my greatest enemies.”

Minho pays attention to every word that he speaks and clears his throat, waiting for your father to continue.

“I care for my daughter more than anything in the world. Which is why I had appointed the most valuable, honest, and competent man in the family to ensure her protection.”

Minho nods.

“Please don’t kill him, Daddy.”

The boss meets you with cold eyes, disregarding your words to proceed with his lecture. “You are my most prized possession. I would hurt anyone or anything to make sure that not a single person touches you. The men who kidnapped you are all taken care of, wiped out by my command.”

He continues. “I know everything that goes on in your life. Every meal, every kiss, every injury, the staff must report every minor thing that occurs in your day. I have eyes on you at all times, and you’re more than aware of that.”

Your shoulders stiffen. He knew.

“Minho,” his stare is burning into the other man, “I’ll get to the point. Did you sleep with my daughter?”

He doesn’t blink. His body tenses up and his voice remains neutral.

“Yes.”

The boss turns the safety off of his firearm and you dig your head into your hands, unable to observe the scene that is about to unfold.

The gunshot is fired, but the man deliberately aims to the left of Minho, grazing his cheek with the bullet before standing up instantly from his seat. The guard doesn’t react with more than a blink as the blood pools at the cut.

“I trust you, Minho. You are a good man. If there is a single person who I would choose to give my daughter to, it would be you.”

Finally, Minho takes this as a sign to let his guard down for a moment as his shoulders drop, lip quivering slightly. It was evident that there was more emotion that the guard was holding back, especially when he took a moment to look away.

“You have my approval.”

Your eyes widen.

“Take care of my daughter. If you break her heart, I’ll feed your own heart to her for supper.”

“Understood.”

“Take her to dinner,” a wad of cash is pulled out from one of the drawers, “buy her flowers and anything else that she asks for.”

“Yes sir.” He responds, “I’ll make sure that she gets the treatment that she deserves.”

You run to embrace your father, to which he places an arm around you, rubbing your back before pulling away.

“Get yourself dressed more sufficiently, I will have a car ready for you soon.”

Minho follows you out of his office, letting out a breath that he had been holding in once the door was closed.

“Did you hear that?” Do you know what this means?” You beam at the man before grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

He lets out a surprised noise, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing back.

When you break the kiss, he stares back at you with the first big smile that you’ve seen from him displayed on his face.

“Let’s get you ready.”

[xanasaurusrex]

clarisse being touchy clarisse la rue x reader (no godly parent specified) a/n: this randomly came to me while rewatching the second episode and i decided to write it. it's 11:30pm at the time of starting this, so idk how coherent this is gonna be, but it's gonna be cute, so strap in and enjoy the ride! taglist: @asvterias @lvrue @thewritingbarbie @kroumi @ravisinghs-wife

you were used to seeing a touchy clarisse. the two often found ways to be alone, to be just the two of you alone together. this was when clarisse got out all of her touchiness on you. whenever the two of you were in your little world, she never let go of you.

but the past few days had been busy. there had been lots of different types of incidents, and the two of you hadn't been able to get together just the two of you.

so when some of the other camp counsellors announced that they were holding a counselor-only bonfire, the two of you jumped at the opportunity.

at the beginning of the bonfire, clarisse was just holding your hand. you would occasionally lean your head on her shoulder, and she would lay her cheek on the top of your head. a few times, she pressed a kiss to your hair as well.

nobody really blinked at that, since those were things that the two of you already did. it was a bit of a shock at first, clarisse acting anything but hostile towards another person, but at this point, after the two of you dating for over a year, everyone was used to it.

as the night wore on, however, clarisse's restraint dissolved. she wanted so desperately to hold you, to grab onto you and never let you go.

she started following you around wherever you were, refusing to let go of your hands. when you told her that you needed your hands to get s'more stuff, she decided to just curl her arm around your waist, and refuse to let that go.

after a while, you wandered off while she was talking to someone from her cabin. she realized two seconds too late that you had extricated her hand from your waist, and she whirled around, freaking out.

she caught sight of you just a few seconds later, sitting in a camping chair roasting a marshmallow. her eyebrows knitted together as she walked up behind you.

she gently laid her hands on your shoulders, startling you slightly. you turned your head sharply, but smiled when you caught sight of her. "hi!" you said cheerily.

clarisse's mouth turned down into a sad frown as she gave you her puppy dog eyes.

"what?" you asked, turning around further in the chair to be more head on with her.

clarisse blew out a sad breath, and made eye contact with you as she asked, "why did you leave me?"

"oh my gods," you let out a laugh as you sagged against the camping chair. "you're so dramatic," you said.

clarisse scoffed. "i looked away for one second! one second, and you were gone! i thought a monster got you," she huffed.

"no you didn't!" you started cackling as you took hold of her hand that was rested on the top of the camping chair. you gave it a gentle kiss and looked up at clarisse through your lashes, giving her your own puppy dog eyes, the ones that were famous for getting clarisse to do literally anything you want. she wavers, but does her best to remain composed. "do you wanna come sit with me?"

and that was it.

clarisse immediately walked around the camping chair, and grabbed your hands to pull you up. she sat down in the chair, and then pulled you to sit in her lap.

this was something that clarisse loved, something the two of you did quite a lot. there was just something about having you, the most important person in her life, on her lap. she was able to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you closer to her. she was also able to lay her head on your shoulder, and she really loved that.

as soon as you were sat securely on her lap, she pulled the two of you closer, and laid her head on your shoulder, closing her eyes with a small smile on her face. she laid her hand in the crook of your elbow, gently stroking your arm as you roasted your marshmallow.

it was times like this that you and clarisse absolutely shocked everyone else at camp.

clarisse was a daughter of ares, and she really fit the bill. she was known for being ruthless in combat, absolutely terrifying with her magic spear. she hunted fearlessly in her neck of the woods during capture the flag, and it was so renowned that everybody avoided those woods as best they could during the games.

suffice to say, clarisse was known for being scary.

but she was different when she was with you. it was like you flicked a switch somewhere inside of her, made her different. you softened her edges, made her less scratchy. well, with you at least. she was still just as scratchy with everyone else, so to speak.

right at this very moment, luke, chris, and a few other counselors were looking at the two of you in complete awe and confusion.

"it's so weird to see her like that still," chris says, looking at the two in confusion.

luke nodded in agreement. "i agree," he watched as clarisse nuzzled against your neck, and sent you a beaming smile as you looked down at her with one of your own. she pecked your lips softly, and luke turned back to the group he was with. "it's crazy to see the switch. literally five minutes ago she was like, scolding me for taking too many chips,"

one of the other counselors laughed. "the other day, i accidentally put a sword back in the wrong spot, and she yelled at me for a solid five minutes. right as i was about to burst into tears, y/n walked in, and clarisse immediately melted,"

"she's so whipped," luke laughed, and the others laughed along with him.

clarisse knew she was whipped, she was very much so aware of that. but she was also, very much so okay with that.

she had never loved anyone as much as she loved y/n.

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, lots of parallels, reader is a lil down on herself but don't worry, eddie is down bad for her.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of weed and smoking, smut!! 18+, minors DNI.

AN: do i write 90% of my fics based on what pops into my head when i hear a certain song? yeah. also this is only half edited bc life. enjoy bbs <3

“Okay, okay,” You laughed. “One more hit then I’m tapped out, Eds.”

Eddie grinned, speaking through a half-held breath. “Oh no, Sweetheart. New stuff hittin’ a little too hard?”

You inhaled deeply, passing back to him what was left of the joint. It went straight to your head, and you flopped back, laying comfortably on Eddie’s bed.

Eddie inhaled, following suit, making your body bounce as he hit the mattress.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Feel like I’m fuckin’ flying.” He grips your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t let me float away, okay?”

You smile at him, taking in how fucking beautiful he looks under the dim lights in his bedroom.

“Never. You’re stuck with me, Eds.”

He looks down at you, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. He took you in like he'd done 100 times before. Eyes trailing from your nose, to your eyes, landing at your mouth.

So fucking beautiful.

“Good," he breathes, pulling you in closer. "Just the way I like it.”

Eddie let go of you hand, only to wrap his arm around you and pull you into his chest. He placed a kiss to the crown of your head, "This okay?"

It's all I want. You think.

"Or do we have to get up and go watch that cheesy chick-flick I promised we'd watch.

You sighed, fiddling with the hem of your denim skirt. "I'd stay here all night if you let me."

That's all I want. He thinks.

Eddie leans back a bit, looking down at you. He's not sure if it's the weed making his so emotional, but he swears he could cry just looking into your eyes. "What am I gonna do if one of these dates you keep going on works out? What if someone takes you from me?"

He tries to sound relaxed, but the truth is, the thought keeps him up at night. There’s gonna be a guy that steals you away from him one of these days. Someone who can give you everything he can’t, someone brave enough to open their mouth and tell you just how much they love you.

and it'll crush him.

The laugh that escapes you is a cynical one, "Eddie, I've been on three dates with three different men, and I've gone home alone each time."

"So?" He asks.

"So," You scoff. "It means no one is interested in doing anything with me."

It’s true—to you at least. The guys you’d gone out with were either not looking to be tied down, or ran once they met you. The last guy thought you’d be easy because ‘the freak’s best friend has to be a freak herself right?’

The dates were a distraction for you. As your heart pined over the one guy you could have it all with, it was breaking too. Eddie hadn’t made a move on you—ever, and you weren’t brave enough too.

So the two of you sat in limbo, completely unaware that the other person was right there with you.

Eddie sits back, releasing you from his arms. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" You ask, sitting back as well.

"That. Act like you're the problem, and not these shitty fucking dudes you keep going out with.” Eddie tried to control his tone, but his temper got the better of him. He cursed at himself for it.

Jesus H. Christ, Munson, get it together.

You push back from him fully now, "Eddie, the common denominator is me. I-I'm fucking broken or something."

“Stop that.” He seethed.

It’s a command—a tone you've heard him use with Steve, or Dustin, but not you.

Never with you.

Eddie stood as you sat up, hanging your legs off the edge of the bed.

"What--"

He turned back and got to his knees right in front of you.

“Stop talking about yourself like that. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

He was close to you, and with him on his knees, his gaze was just at your eye level. “You’re not broken. There's nothing wrong with you, you’re—you’re fucking perfect.”

“Eddie…”

“No, no, just…just shush for a second.” Eddie moved his hand to your cheek, his thumb sweeping across it gently. “You think all this shit about yourself and it’s just not fucking true. I wish, for a second, you could see yourself how I see you. I fucking adore you.”

You feel the warmth of his breath on your nose. His large hand on your cheek warms you, and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes.

Everything is Eddie in this moment. He’s invading every sense you had.

It’s overwhelming.

You can feel your eyes brim with tears. “You don’t have to say that, Eds. I’m okay. I’m just…I’m lonely, that’s all.”

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. He watched you, he saw the tears hidden beneath your lashes. How could you not see it? See how you were…everything to him?

His mind stopped for a moment, deciding whether or not to take the leap, to risk it all and not run for once.

Fuck it.

“I’m right here, Princess. I’ve been right here.” He leans his forehead on yours.

You exhale his name, “Eddie,”

“What,” he’s quick to ask. “What is it, Sweetheart?”

Your on fire with how close he is to you. But he doesn’t mean it, not in the way you hoped he would…does he?

Your eyes open, seeing his beautiful brown ones searching your face for some kind of clue as to what you’re feeling. You clasp your hand on top of his. “Please,” you beg. “Please don’t say things you don’t mean just to make me feel better. My heart can’t take it.”

He laughs softly, bringing his other hand up. He’s cradling your face gently, “Oh, Honey. You have no idea just how much I mean it.”

Eddie is overwhelmed with you. You’re everywhere, and he can’t fucking think straight. Probably a good thing right about now, because he’s about to do something he never thought he’d be lucky enough to do.

“Can,” he clears his throat. “Can I kiss you, Baby?”

With zero hesitation, you nod, earning a chuckle from Eddie.

“Gotta use your words, sweet thing.”

“Yes,” it comes out as a plea. “Kiss me...please.”

Warm warm warm.

It’s all you feel when he leans in. Then his soft lips are on yours, all the while he’s holding you as if you’d be the one to float away.

Eddie kisses you like he’s done it a thousand times. Like he knows your lips and the pattern that drives them crazy. He’s trying to tell you everything he’s been too afraid to say since the moment he met you.

There’s no one but you.

You’re everything.

I love you, please, let me love you.

Regrettably, you pull away. Breathless from the kiss, but also how surreal this moment is.

“I-I,” you sigh, touching your forehead to his. “I’ve wanted to do that for forever.” It comes out as whisper. As if you’d scare him away if you said it too loud.

Eddie smiles, a relieved laugh passing his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a beat, Eddie is looking at you so softly and with such care.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says with all of the conviction in the world. “My pretty girl.”

“Am I?” You ask. “Am I yours?”

He nods, "If you want to be." He moves his hands, resting one on each thigh. He rubs them absentmindedly, likes he's trying to flatten the goosebumps that had prickled across your skin. “...and I’m yours. You've got me, Honey.”

Eddie's grin was still a shy one. You brush your hand across his face, pushing back any stray hairs. "Eds?"

He grips your wrist gently, placing small, tender kisses along the inside of it. The gesture is so simple, but it sends a heat through you like you've never experienced before.

"What is it, pretty girl? Whatever you want, whatever you need...it's yours."

You intertwine your fingers with his smoothly, "You, Eddie. Need you. Wanna make you feel good, Eds."

Now it was his turn to get goosebumps.

"Fuck, Angel. You can't just say that to me." He breathes.

Your bedroom eyes blink twice, "Please?"

A strangled moan vibrates from his chest, "Who am I to deny the fair maiden what she asks for?" Eddie stands, holding out a hand for you.

You're pulled to your feet by him, and he's looking at you through a brand new set of eyes. "One problem with that though, Princess. You come first."

You gasp as his hands take purchase of your ass, pulling you into him. "If anything, and I mean anything is too much, or too weird, you tell me, okay?"

You're nodding again, and he tuts at you. "Uh-uh. Words, baby."

Your arms fall around his neck and you press your body against his. "Yes, sir."

"Ho-ly-shit." He moans. "Yeah, I'm gonna kiss you now. Cool? Cool."

He's hungrier this time, kissing with teeth and tongue as his roaming hands explore your body.

"Eddie, Eddie..." You breath through swollen lips. "Too many clothes."

"You a mind reader or something?" He jokes, ripping the t-shirt from his body. His body was a work of art in more ways than one, and seeing it now, like this, made you crave it all the more.

You watch as Eddie falls to his knees, "Can I?" He asks, pulling at your skirt.

"God, yes."

He unbuttons the fastener, pulling the distressed denim down until it's pooling at your ankles. Eddie then came face to face with your black-lace covered heat.

"I-I'm dead right? I've died and now I'm at the pearly gates."

Your hands cover your face, "Eddie! Stop!"

He stands quickly, "No, baby, no. God, please don't hide from me." He pulls your hands away gently.

Your shirt is next to go, and so is the matching bra. Eddie pulls his pants down, leaving his boxers on.

"Lay down for me, Princess. Wanna take care of you.”

The timber of his voice makes you tremble. Once your comfortable on the bed, Eddie climbs on too.

“Now, I know this is all new, and we’re figuring things out as we go, but…” Eddie pauses, laying on his stomach between your legs.

He starts kissing his way up your legs. “I’ve been dreaming of eating this pussy for a long, kiss, long, kiss, long time.”

You’re so turned on you can barely speak, but you manage to get out a quiet. “Well what are you waiting for?”

Your thong is thrown into parts unknown, and Eddie starts to feast like a man starved.

“Eddie, fuck—“ his tongue explores your heat. His hands hold onto your hips as you grind down onto his mouth.

“Uh-uh, don’t hold back. Wanna hear you, Princess.” He dives back in, lips sucking on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He slips in one, the two fingers. Pumping and curling them slowly until he finds the spot that makes you see stars.

The fire in your belly is growing and you feel your legs start to shake. “Holy fuck, Eds—Eds I’m gonna cum!” Your hands take purchase in his hair, giving it a sharp tug as you feel the heat engulf you.

Eddie eats your pussy, drinking you in as you cum.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” You release your grip on his hair as you come down from your high.

Eddie crawls up your body, kissing you. You taste yourself all over his tongue. “Don’t be sorry, Baby. Let’s me know you’re enjoying yourself,” he kisses you once more. “Plus, I kinda like it.”

You’re both breathing heavy.

Now it’s his turn.

Your hands touch his shoulder, pushing him gently. “What’re you doing, pretty girl?” He asks softly.

When Eddie’s leaned back against the headboard, you pull his boxers off. Pink, uncut cock springing from it's confines.

God damn...he's fucking huge.

"Gonna ride you, Eds. Let you feel what you did to me." You climbed on top of him, "Can I do that? Can I make you feel good?"

Eddie's nodding, not sure what part of you he wants to look at more.

"Uh-uh," you tease. "Use your words, Handsome."

"Fuck," He breathes. He palms your bare chest, moving the pads of his thumbs over your nipples. "Do whatever you want to me, use me, I'm yours." He leans forward, hot mouth latching to your other breast.

You sit up, allowing Eddie's hard length to slip inside your aching cunt. The sheer stretch and size is enough to snatch the breath from your lungs.

"Eds...Eds, shit. S'big." You moan.

His eyes close as he bottoms out inside of you, "So tight. Fuckin' pussy was made for me, she wants my cock. Won't let it go. She greedy, baby?"

You adjust to his size filling the void inside you. Eddie hold your hips as you begin to ride him, helping you to keep a steady rhythm.

"Look at you, Princess. Cock-drunk already, hm?" He teases.

Eddie is whispering praises as he fucks up into you.

Such a good girl.

Taking me so well.

My pretty girl.

Mine.

Eddie's pace quickens, and you feel the tremble return to your legs.

"Eddie, fuck, I--"

"I know, Honey. I can feel it, feel you squeezin' me. Let go, Angel. Go on, cum for me."

His words are like a spell.

You cum harder than you did on his mouth, and this time, it's his cock that's drenched in your essence.

"Gonna cum, Sweetheart. Where--"

You're entirely lost in everything Eddie. "Inside me, Eds. Fuck, please cum inside me."

"Shit, shit, shit." Eddie's moves become erratic. Sloppy thrusts chasing his release, and when he does, he all but growls in your ear.

He's breathless and spent, but his arms wrap around you. Eddie holds you, softening inside you. He kisses the center of your chest, the trail making its way across your shoulder, up your jaw, and to your lips.

"Hi." He says quietly.

You giggle softly, "Hi."

"So uh, not sure if this is a good time or not..."

You kiss his nose, "Hmm?"

"I-I...I love you. I don't know, just felt like someone should tell you, might as well be me." Eddie's big brown eyes search your face for any sign of regret or discomfort.

Nothing.

You kiss him deeply, "I'm glad you told me, otherwise I'd be sitting over here, in love with you, looking all silly by myself."

Eddie holds you tighter. "You, you love me?"

You giggle, "Edward Munson. I love you."

He pulls you closer, "You love me." It's a statement now.

Eddie lays his head against your bare chest. "I'm gonna get you cleaned up in a second, Sweetheart. Just wanna hold you for a little."

Rubbing small circles on his back, you kissed the top of his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Handsome."

[dreamingoftaehyun]

ᯓ★ Cat Lovers | 나재민 ˎˊ˗

"Who expected the owner of a cat you found near your house to be the hottest man you've ever laid your eyes on?"

☆ pairing: na jaemin x afab! reader ☆ genre: fluff, smut. 18+ mdni. ☆ au: strangers to lovers ☆ word count: 5.5k

☆ a/n: my nct writer debut !! i've finally dived into ncity and now i wanna write for them too. i'm so excited to share this.. i love jaemin sm (i can see him being the dream member i write the most tbh) sorry if this is a little corny. i can't not be lovey-dovey when it comes to na jaemin :(

₊ nsfw warnings under the cut

₊🎧: pretty boy the neighbourhood, kingston faye webster, no other heart mac demarco, show me how men i trust, freak lana del rey, positions ariana grande

☆ warnings: not proofread! outdoor sex, exhibitionism, fingering, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex (do not do this), pet names like ‘baby, princess, good girl’, they’re very in love

  Your daily commute to the convenience store was nothing out of the ordinary. Except this time, today, there was.

  You weren't paying attention to your surroundings, your body running on autopilot. You walked towards the next aisle, a few items in your hands, then— CRASH!

  Before you knew it, you ran straight into a very warm, hard wall...? The items you held clattered to the floor and when you looked up, you realised it wasn't a wall. It was a man. A very attractive man.

  "Shit! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." You quickly apologised. You didn't notice his hand was supported on your lower back until you both stepped away from each other.

  "No worries, are you okay?" He asks before you both crouch down to pick your dropped items up, his hand accidentally brushing yours. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay, thank you..." You blush as you both stand back up, and he helps you take the items to the checkout.

  Searching for an opportunity to ask him for his number, your mind was racing. The two of you walked out of the store together, and the man hands you your bag of items. "Get home safely." He smiles, waving, before he turns his back to you and walks the opposite direction.

  It dawned on you as you watched him walk away into the distance that neither of you told each other your names. Idiot.

  It's ridiculous how such a short, insubstantial interaction with an attractive guy put such a big smile on your face during your walk home. What an odd day.

  · · ─────── · ·

  When you were close to your house, you heard a meow from around the corner. Stopping in your tracks, you listened closer.

  Meow.

  You decided to see if your ears were playing tricks on you. When you turned the corner, you spotted a white rag doll cat with matted, filthy fur, that seemed to be starving. You cautiously approached it, but when you held your hand out, it immediately came to you.

  "Hi little one," You call in a sweet voice. It lets you pet it whilst you take the time to study the collar around it's neck, reading what was engraved on it. "Ah, so your name is Luna." You contemplate aloud.

  You scoop the cat up and make your way to your house just down the road. "Come on Luna, I'll get you something to eat."

  Stepping into your home, you go straight to your kitchen. "There you go, I'll be right back with food." You call to the cat while setting her down on the floor. You get a bowl and fill it with cat food, placing it on the floor.

  After you ensured the cat was fully fed, you took the time to run it a bath. You expected the process of washing her to be hard, but Luna was one of the most docile cats you've ever met. When you placed her into the bath, she literally just stood there and allowed you to clean her with no troubles.

  "All done!" Calling in a sing-songy voice, you gently lift the drenched cat from the bathtub and pat her dry with a towel. "I should really give your owner a call now."

  You sat in the living room watching over Luna as you dialed the numbers that were on her collar into your phone. You felt guilty that you desperately wanted to keep the cat, but this was the right thing to do.

  The phone rings several times until it's finally picked up, a males voice speaking over it. "Hello?"

  "Hi, sorry if you're busy but I've got your cat, Luna, in my apartment, I found her outside." You explain and you hear the man gasp. "Oh my God, you found her?! She's been missing for almost two weeks!" The owner exclaims.

  "Are you able to come pick her up now?" You ask, waiting for the owner to answer. A few moments pass, you assume he's looking at the time or something. "Maybe, may I ask for your address to see how close it is? I have some errands to run but those can wait."

  You give him your address and apartment number, and luckily you lived only a few blocks away from him. "I'll be there in 15 minutes!" The owner says before hanging up the phone. You look across the room and see Luna playing with a cat toy you had. You really wanted to keep her.

  · · ─────── · ·

  After fifteen minutes exactly, your doorbell rung. You buzz him up, and a few moments more a you hear a soft knock on your door. You grab Luna and open the door.

  It was him! The guy from the convenience store earlier that day was Luna's owner. Maybe it was fate to meet again.

  "Oh, hello there again." He greets first, a sheepish smile adorned his face, seemingly taken aback that it's you. "H-Hi, here's your cat." You hand Luna over.

  Luna's owner immediately engulfs the cat in a hug. "Oh my baby, I missed you!" He dramatically sighs and you can't help but giggle. "Don't ever run away again." He scolds the cat with a pout.

  He looks back at you for a moment. "Um, I should give you some money or something for finding her." He fumbles with his pant pocket, about to pull out his wallet. "No! It's fine, you don't need to do that."

  The man nods in understanding, putting his wallet back in his pocket. "I'm Jaemin, by the way." He introduces himself.

  The name strangely suited him. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, again..." You mutter the last part and he laughs. "I really love your cat by the way, she's so well behaved!"

  "Yes, she's a dream. Except when she decides to go on little adventures around the neighbourhood," Jaemin smiles and coos at the cat in his arms.

  A few moments pass in silence as you study the man. He seemed lost in thought, until he finally looked up at you with a grin and opened his mouth. "Hey, instead of me paying you, maybe you could come visit Luna and my other cats every now and then?"

  The proposition sounded very tempting. But you hardly knew the guy... Your survival instincts were screaming red flag! But deep down you knew Jaemin was harmless.

  This could be the perfect opportunity to get to know him. "Sure, I'd love that."

  "Great! I'll give you my number."

  · · ─────── · ·

  You and Jaemin had been texting non-stop since. Mostly because he would spam you to play pool with him on iMessage but that's besides the point. Every time you'd get a notification from him, you'd start giggling and kicking your feet. You were down bad for a man you hardly knew.

  Jaemin hadn't asked you to come over yet. He was scared you'd misunderstand his intentions. You expected that, so you initiated first.

  When the conversation you were currently having with him died down, you decided to finally bring it up.

                           so... when do i finally get                             to see luna again?

    I'm free tomorrow,     you? :)

                            sounds like a plan!!

  Squealing over the message like you were a teenager texting your crush, you immediately stood up to pick out an outfit while you texted back.

  You turned your phone off and threw it on your bed as you looked through your closet. Jaemin had a good fashion sense, — You definitely didn't stalk his Instagram — so, what you picked had to be something that wasn't too much, but also give a good impression.

  You decided on wearing a baby blue sweater with a white skirt to match. The skirt wasn't too short, but you did decide to wear it on purpose. Whether that purpose was good or bad, you didn't know.

  You could hardly fall asleep, excited for what was to come tomorrow.

  · · ─────── · ·

  When you approached Jaemin's apartment building, you started feeling anxious. What if he ends up hating me?

  Those kinds of self destructive thoughts are what would always hold you back from things. But this time you refused to listen to them.

  You took the elevator to his floor, double checking the room number he sent you. Knocking on the door that had the numbers 24 on it, you heard clattering inside and quick footsteps approaching the door.

  Your anxiety bubbled down when the door swung open and you were met with Jaemin's smile that beamed down onto you like the sun. He looked a little disheveled, his hair messy and his face flushed. Why was he out of breath?

  "Hey Y/N. Come on in," Jaemin steps aside and lets you pass him, stepping into the small hallway. "Um, ignore the mess please. Luna and Lucy were fighting just before you came, and I had to break them up. Very strenuous work." He explains with a chuckle, gesturing towards the knocked over items on the floor that you assumed was the decor on his coffee table.

  "No worries. Where is Luna?" You ask, looking around and only seeing a male cat you've never seen before. "That's Luke. Luna's probably hiding under the couch. I've put Lucy in timeout since she was the one that started the fight."

  Jaemin continued to tell you about his cats. You loved how proud he was to be a cat father. As you sat on his couch together, a white furball in the corner of your eye nudges your leg. "Luna, there you are!"

  You coo as you grab the cat and pull her into a hug. "My other cats will be jealous," Jaemin chuckles. "Luna seems to love you."

  "I have to admit, I almost kept her when I found her." You smile guiltily, but Jaemin just laughs. "You know, Luna's the only one of my cats that don't warm up to other people besides me. You're special."

  Your heart races at Jaemin's words, heat creeping up your neck. "I just have that effect, I guess." You smile sheepishly.

  Jaemin just nods, silence filling the room. You continued to play with Luna, not noticing the gaze the man had on you. You only turn to look at him when he clears his throat.

  "Do you want to get something to eat?" Jaemin asks. Your eyes widen a little, caught off guard. "There's a cafe close by. We could walk." He adds.

  You can't help but smile. "Why not?"

  · · ─────── · ·

  Was this a date? Those thoughts ran through your head during the walk to the cafe. You and Jaemin walked side by side, close enough that your hands would brush every couple of steps. You noticed he was a bit shy, and so were you.

  The two of you now sat side by side in a booth. You thought that a table where you faced each other was too 'date-like', so you gravitated towards a booth and it seemed Jaemin understood and slid beside you.

  Since it was midday, you ordered bacon and eggs with an iced tea as brunch, Jaemin the same. "So Jaemin, what do you do?"

  "I'm in my last year of college. I'm majoring in graphic design and photography. I'd like to make it into my career some day." Jaemin explains, and you stare at him in awe. "What about you?"

  "I never went to college, so I've been kind of aimlessly working different retail jobs. It's enough for me, I never really had a dream career." You explain, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop. "Sorry, I overshared a bit there."

  Jaemin just shakes his head. "No, I want to learn more about you. Overshare all you want!"

  You just nod and smile, about to ask another question but were interrupted by the waitress placing your food and drinks down in front of you.

  "Thank you," You say as the waitress walks off. "Um, so what made you get three cats?"

  Jaemin laughs. "I don't really know, to be honest. I started with one, then I ended up adopting the other two. They're siblings, I couldn't bear the fact they'd be separated."

  "Awe, that's so cute. You're so admirable." You compliment and you don't miss how he shyly smiles.

  The conversation went smoothly, the two of you learning things about one another. You even told him stuff some of your friends don't even know about. Jaemin felt like a safe space, like you could confide in anything with him.

  Finishing your meal, the question of if this was something more than just a hangout plagued your mind, so you decided to just ask. "Jaemin, is this a date?"

  You just had to ask him when he was taking a sip of his drink. He choked, coughing. You pat his back to help him out, making sure he was okay before speaking again. "Sorry, is it not?"

  "It originally wasn't, but if that's what you want it to be, then sure." Jaemin smiles at you. His eye contact was magnetic, you couldn't stop yourself from looking at him.

  "Okay..." You replied meekly, not expecting that reply. Your face was burning at this point.

  Your body jolts when Jaemin's hand covers your own hand, that was placed on the booth seat. "However, I would like to take you on a proper date. What do you say?"

  Your heart jumped into your throat, not able to speak at his forwardness despite his outwardly shy demeanor. You melt at the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. "It's okay, Y/N. Don't be anxious."

  It's like he knew you already. "That'd be lovely, I-I mean, I'd like that." You stumble over your words, making you both chuckle in amusement.

  After a few more conversations, you both decide it's time to leave. "I'll walk you home." Jaemin offers.

  "No! You don't have to do that," You shake your head. "But I want to." Jaemin insists.

  "I don't want to trouble you..." You sigh. Jaemin pouts but nods in understanding. "Okay, fine. Just make sure to text me when you get home so I know you're safe!"

  "Fine, dad," You groan, rolling your eyes jokingly. "See ya!" Jaemin just grins, waving like how he did when you first met. "Bye, Y/N!" He calls as the two of you part ways.

  · · ─────── · ·

  It was the night of your and Jaemin's proper date and you were shaking with anxiety. He was taking you to the movies, so it was going to be a chill, fun date Putting your outfit on, you admired yourself in the mirror.

  You decided on a simple white long sleeved crop-top and a light blue pleated denim skirt. Along with some sheer tights underneath since it was getting colder.

  It was just a casual outfit, but something about it made you look hot. You checked the time and saw you only had 45 minutes until Jaemin arrives, so you scramble to do your hair and makeup.

  Luckily you finished right on time, putting on your perfume as the last step before you heard a knock on the door. Grabbing your bag and putting your shoes on, you open the door.

  "Jaemin!" You exclaim, engulfing him in a hug. You could still feel the lingering touch of his hand on your waist when you pulled away. "You look amazing," Jaemin smirks, eyeing your figure. You couldn't help but feel small in his gaze.

  You took the time to drink him in. His hair was styled in the way he usually does but this time he looks different. Sexy. He wore a simple white t-shirt with a black leather jacket paired with a pair of jeans. "I could say the same to you." You smile.

  "Shall we go?" He asks as he jokingly lifts his arm up for you to link yours with his, and you nod with a laugh. Jaemin opens the passenger door to his car for you and you can't help but tease him for how chivalrous he was being.

  "So, what movie are you taking me to?" You ask, looking over at the man now focused on the road ahead. "It's a secret." He hums and you roll your eyes.

  "If it's a horror movie I might kill you, I swear." You mutter and Jaemin laughs. "I can tell you it's not horror. Don't worry, you'll love it."

  When Jaemin pulled into an outdoor parking lot, you were confused. Where was the movie theatre? But then you realised it was an outdoor cinema, and you squealed. "I've never been to one of these before!"

  Jaemin smiles as he parks his car in a spot that had a clear view of the screen. "And, guess what?" He replies. "It's a showing of your favourite movie!"

  You gasped. He remembered your favourite movie? You both talked about all your favourite things with each other over text but you didn't expect this at all. It may have been the bare minimum, but your heart swelled with love nonetheless.

  Jaemin got a blanket and a few pillows from his backseat and you helped him spread them into the trunk of his car, creating a nice seating area for the two of you to watch the movie comfortably.

  "This is so lovely, thank you Jaem." The nickname rolled of your tongue. "I like that, 'Jaem'." He murmurs, mimicking the nickname. "Call me that more often, baby."

  Your knees almost buckled at the pet name he gave you. His words laced with honey had you wrapped around his finger, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

  After back and forth flirting, you settled into the trunk of Jaemin's car. The movie started playing and you were immediately enthralled, not realising how close you were laying next to Jaemin until you felt his hand rest your thigh.

  You shyly peeked at him, he was fully focused on the movie. You lean in closer to him as the night air was getting colder, and he wrapped his arm around your waist.

  You basked in the feeling of his touch, not wanting it to end. Sadly, it ended as soon as it started, because Jaemin moved his arm to pull a blanket up on the two of you. His touch was quickly replaced by his hand on your thigh again.

  He started tracing circles on the inside of your thigh and you shivered. The seemingly innocent action quickly making you think impure thoughts.

  Swallowing, you looked away out of shame. "What's wrong, princess?" Jaemin asks in a whisper, and you jump at how close he is to your face when you whip your head back around. "Why're you so jumpy?"

  "I-I'm sorry," you stutter, trying not to make a fool of yourself. Jaemin smirks when you look down at his lips, not breaking the distance between you. "Can I kiss you?" You whisper.

  Jaemin doesn't answer as he closes the distance between you, and you melt into the kiss almost instantly. It was sweet and gentle, like he was being cautious. But you got impatient, swiping your tongue against his lips.

  He lets you in, sucking on his tongue as your hand toys at the hair on the nape of his neck. He groans softly onto your lips, enamoured by you.

  You can feel the hand he has on your thigh creep up dangerously close to your growing arousal, his other hand cupping your cheek. When you pull away, he grips your inner thigh roughly. "Wanna make you feel good, can I?" He whispers seductively into your ear.

  You nod your head but Jaemin shakes his in response. "Nuh-uh, I need to hear you say it."

  "Please, Jaem... Want you." You mewl and he grins. "I'll take care of you."

  He pulls you into his lap while still keeping the blanket on you, his hand cups your clothed core from under your skirt, which was now raised up past your upper thigh. You sigh, your head falling into his shoulder as he slips your underwear out of the way.

  "You know, I never hook up on the first date, but you..." Jaemin whispers lowly into your ear, you squirm under his touch when his fingertips just brush your clit, it's not enough. "You make me crazy, I can't keep my hands off of you."

  Whimpers spill out of your mouth when Jaemin's thumb finally rubs your clit, slow and tantalising. The movie was loud enough and the car was far away from others that you doubt anyone would hear you unless you started screaming, so you let out any pretty noises that Jaemin forced out of you.

  His fingers rub up and down your vulva with his thumb still on your clit. "So wet for me, you're adorable." Jaemin cooed, his deep voice so close to your ear. You watch as he moves his hand that was on your pussy up to his mouth, his lips wrapping around his digits.

  He hums in delight, not breaking eye contact with you as he licks them clean of your slick. "Fuck..." You moan softly at his ministrations, your eyelids heavy with lust.

  "Can't wait to taste you properly. But that'll have to wait." Jaemin pouts, the enticing tone of his voice making you insatiable. "Jaem, need more. The movie's almost finished."

  He listens, his fingers dipping into your entrance, but only giving you just a taste of them. He was doing it on purpose.

  You groan in frustration, and he just chuckles while finally putting two fingers inside you. He shows no mercy as he fucks his fingers quickly into you straight away, making you pant and writhe against him.

  You were so wound up already, and he didn't even touch you that much. Maybe it was just his aura, but it felt like Jaemin had cast a spell on you. You were love drunk on him. It was only your first date, you remind yourself.

  When you throw your head back into his shoulder out of desperation, his lips swallow your moans, you could barely breathe with how long he kissed you but you loved it. Then, he added a third finger, then a fourth. You were gone.

  You were already wound up tight but once he added pressure on your clit with his thumb, and you felt his other hand press down on your lower abdomen harshly, it was over.

  "Fuck— fuck, Jaemin!" You choke out, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. "Shit, you came fast." Jaemin chuckles in your ear, and you feel like crying when you feel him pull his hand away. You were about to protest, tell him to get over himself, but he puts his fingers in your mouth right as you opened your mouth.

  You lick your cum off of them, not breaking eye contact despite the fact that his eyes on you doing something so lewd made you want to crawl into a hole. "You look so pretty." He smiles.

  How could he sound and look so sweet during such an impure moment? "Can I do something to help you out too?" You ask when you shift your body and feel his rock hard cock on your ass. "It's okay, the movies about to finish anyway. I like pleasing you." He shakes his head.

  You hum, turning your attention back to the ending scene of the movie. "I can't wait to sink my dick in that pretty pussy of yours, though." Jaemin whispers into your ear when the credits start rolling, his voice deep and laced with sin.

  "My place or yours?" You ask, pulling your panties back in place and your skirt down before you help Jaemin pack up the blankets and pillows. "Mine."

  When you were in the car on the way back to Jaemin's apartment, a sense of dread suddenly came over you. It wasn't because you were scared of him, it was how he thought of you right now.

  What if he thought you were a slut for hooking up on the first date? What if he just wanted to fuck and nothing more? Your leg started bouncing anxiously as you sat in the passenger seat next to Jaemin.

  "Are you having second thoughts? I can take you home if you are," Jaemin speaks up, worry in his voice. "No, no it's not that... I just..." You trail off, unable to get your words out.

  "It's okay. Let it out." Jaemin reassures, placing his hand on your thigh and squeezing lightly. "Are you just doing this for the fuck, or do you actually want this to go somewhere? Because I do." You speak after moments of hesitation.

  Jaemin stays silent for a moment, before finally opening his mouth. "I gave you my number originally because I had an interest in you since the convenience store, if I'm being honest. This is not just to hook up."

  You let out an exhale you didn't even know you were holding. You stay silent as Jaemin parks his car in front of his apartment building, you could tell he wanted to say more.

  "I do want this to go somewhere. I don't care where, I'd just like to be with you in any way I can. I really like you, Y/N." Jaemin confesses.

  "I know we have just gotten to know each other, but my heart pounds every time I see you, even when I get a notification from you on my phone." He continues and you can't wipe the grin on your face.

  "God, I believe we're fated to meet because why are you so perfect?" You utter and he laughs. "I just poured my heart out to you and that's how you reply?"

  You giggle and playfully shove him. "Sorry, I can't take this seriously. But I'm grateful you can be so emotional with me, because I'm not great at telling people how I feel." You say before giving him a long, passionate kiss that had him melting under your touch. "D-Did you want to come in?" He stutters.

  "Yes, you being romantic really turned me on." You mumble and he rolls his eyes with a grin before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the car.

  · · ─────── · ·

  It was no surprise he had you on naked, on his bed in the matter of minutes as soon as you entered his apartment.

  But when he unbuckles his belt, you sink to your knees and move his hands out of the way, doing it yourself and pulling his pants and boxers down in a rush.

  "Jeez, you're that hungry for it?" Jaemin teases but you ignore him as you stare at his cock once it springs free and hits stomach. It was pretty and veiny, the tip flushed from the blood rushing to it. "You're drooling." He says.

  "Shut the fuck up or I won't suck you off." You deadpan and he stops talking. You smirk as he lets out a small moan as soon as his tip enters your mouth.

  "Who's drooling now?" You challenge, looking up at his blissed face. "S-Shut up, I just haven't done this in a while..."

  You giggle and keep sinking down on his cock, your hands taking the space you couldn't fit in your throat without gagging. You start off slow, thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth and jerking the base of it off, Jaemin's soft groans spurring you on.

  His hand in your hair tightens when you remove your hands and try to deepthroat him, but your gag reflex stops you so you pull away. "Sorry, fuck... I also haven't done this in a while." You shyly admit while Jaemin strokes your hair to comfort you. "Baby, you're doing amazing. Don't stress, just do what you're comfortable with."

  Why couldn't every man act like him? You smile and take him in your mouth again, but this time his cock slips past your gag reflex and you cheer internally. "Ah, fuck. Good girl," Jaemin praises and you whimper around his shaft, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine.

  "Mhmm, just like that." Jaemin moans, hand in your hair getting tighter as you take him in your mouth deeply. You started playing with his balls, and that was when his moans started getting breathier.

  You could feel him twitch, but as you were getting ready to swallow his cum, he pulls you off of him. You pant, catching your breath as he wipes the spit and drool off of your face. "Wanna cum somewhere else."

  Jaemin helps you up off your knees and lays you down on his bed. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

  Embarrassment blooms through you, looking away. “Don’t hide from me.” Jaemin’s hand moves your head to face him.

  He then pulls away and looks through his bedside table. “Shit, I don’t have any condoms…” He mutters. “It’s okay.. I’m clean and on birth control.”

  He hesitates. “When was the last time you got tested?”

  “Six months ago. But I haven’t fucked anyone since.” You answer. “You?”

  “Last week. I’m clean too.” He smiles sheepishly and you chuckle. “It feels better raw, anyway.”

  Jaemin’s face flushes but he closes his drawer and positions himself between your legs anyway. “You sure?” He asks one more time.

  “Yes, Jaem. Fuck me already.” You groan, sexual frustration washing over you when you have a hot, naked man who is interested in you right in front of you.

  He finally sinks his tip inside of your entrance, his cock going inside bit by bit until he finally bottoms out. You both moan together in relief.

  “You can move.” You reassure, your hands on his shoulder as he hovers above you before thrusting once or twice, experimenting.

  He wasn’t huge so you didn’t feel any pain. You weren’t sure if it was just because it’s attached to him, but his dick felt good.

  His thrusts started to speed up, his hands holding your hips tightly as your hands scratched down his back.

  “Ah- Ah, god,” You whimper as he hits the spot that made you feel stars in only a matter of minutes. “Jaemin…” His name leaves your lips drawn out and whiny, just how he likes it.

  “Will you be my boyfriend?” It comes out of your mouth without you realising until Jaemin stills his hips, his dick twitching inside of you. He laughs in disbelief.

  “You ask me that while I’m balls deep inside of you?” He teases and you hide your face with your arms, embarrassed.

  “Look at me, Y/N.” He orders and you listen. “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.”

  He pulls you up for a kiss, this time it was filled with something you couldn’t point out but it felt amazing. Then, he snaps his hips up inside of you and goes back to his pace he had before. “Fuck!”

  “Baby, you’re gonna drive me crazy… Swallowing my dick so tightly, like I was made for your pussy.” Jaemin rambles, too lost in the pleasure to care if he sounded insane, but you ate up every word he said to you like it was your last meal.

  “I’m close.” He whispers, his thrusts getting faster and he snakes a hand to your clit, trying to get you over the edge too. “Come with me?”

  “Y-Yeah,” You slur, his relentless pace making you dumb. You felt his dick twitch inside of you before he pulled out, jerking himself off while rubbing at your clit.

  You came at the sight of him alone — all sweaty, moaning and fucked out for you. Your body convulsed and you felt his warm cum on your stomach before he collapsed beside you, pulling you into an embrace.

  You gave yourselves a few minutes to come back to Earth. “Let’s get cleaned up…” Jaemin mutters, helping you to his bathroom.

  · · ─────── · ·

  You and Jaemin had been dating for a month now, and you basically became his cats’ mother. You were over at his apartment any time he wasn’t busy with college or work. You fucked like rabbits too.

  You’d suck him off when he’s trying to write his papers, he’d eat you out when you were chilling on your phone. You made love almost every night… You were content.

  After not dating anyone for almost four years, Jaemin coming into your life was the best thing that could have happened to you, and you couldn’t help but thank Luna for coming to your apartment building that day when she escaped Jaemin’s.

  “Hey baby, you finished?” Jaemin knocks on the doorframe to get your attention. “Almost, give me a second.”

  You type the last sentence onto your laptop, closing it with a smile. “Finished!” You exclaim.

  “Finally, I’ve been waiting all day to touch you.” Jaemin groans. You giggle as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom.

  “Well now you have all night.”

[trashmouth-richie]

⁂ 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 + 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 || a mini series || eddie x you

“soul ties” based but with a spin — 1.2k PART 2

[reader and her lover are souls bound to one another for eons and eons, they always find their way back to one another no matter how long it takes or what bodies they might be in, but when reader feels the magnetic pull of her other half and wills the girl’s body she is in to find her lover— the body her lover belongs to is a boy— none other than the meanest boy in hawkins, eddie munson] 

trigger warnings: 18+ smut, bisexual! eddie, mean! eddie, shy! girl, smut. etc eddie and the body reader lives in are mostly referred to as “the girl” and “the boy”, they are both 18 in this story. 

reader (you) is a “soul” in this story, meaning you are only bound to the body you are inhabiting during this lifetime. The girl will have features mentioned— but again— you (the reader) are a soul, which i imagine to be a flame of all colors. 

Her soul knew his. 

Knew him before she’d even met him in this body. Knew him before her eyes caught his. A magnetic pull sought him out and there he was, and the two souls buzzed, destined to be together. 

As if every star had aligned, he found you, again.. 

You look different this time. His soul spoke. The body is shapely, but those eyes still burn through me like fire. 

My eyes only burn for you my love. You purred back, in this body, and the next and the one after that. 

Eons had come and gone and in each one you found each other. Sometimes it took longer than the last, having only minutes together instead of years. Other times you were reborn in the same city. But this time, your bodies were not friendly to one another. 

Your lover's body was tall, pale, human male species. A mop of wavy hair that he rarely seemed to comb. The body you lived in belonged to a human female species. But was more reserved than the boy, quieter… except when her conscience talked for her in her head, then she was funny. 

Judging by the years you had been here, you thought that possibly she was eighteen, and in those years you waited for him. 

A similar soul had reached out to you, pretending to be him. The body was handsome, fit, skin kissed by the sun. A wriggly mustache that tickled the girls lips.

This boy went by the name Billy, and he was kind to the girl at first. He bought her many gifts, and told her that he loved her. 

But where your lover smelled of soap and cedar, this soul smelled of rich smoke and his eyes were hurt and angry, unlike the kind ones you’d spent centuries finding in every different body imaginable. The soul was shielded behind a mask, pretending to be something he should be, not something he needed. 

The girl cried when he left, but you were proud of her, and you showed her in her dreams the happiness she would one day have, once she found him, your love. 

— 

He looked for you for years. But this body was not like any others he had been attached to before. This boy went by many names:

Edward

Eddie

Dungeon Master

Eddie the Banished

Mr. Munson

and The Freak.

Mostly just Eddie though. His elders did not care for him, and in his younger years he spent nights writing about his sadness, tears leaking onto his scrawled handwriting. 

A man of some relation to the boy came to care for him, and the boy became happy once again, slowly, he gained trust. 

The boy had many hobbies that were new and interesting to him. He plucked a warlock and screamed into a microphone. He threw dice and moved figurines into position he had carefully planned out months in advance. Music and fantasy seemed to be a large part of the boy’s life. But where oh where, were you?

It wouldn’t be the first time he found you in a body similar to his, the same species with the same anatomy. When another boy who played basketball, and was well liked started noticing the boy, his heart raced. 

Steve was his name. His soul was sweet, smelling of roses and perfume. But it was not you, and the boy couldn’t love Steve the way he had hoped he could. 

It was mutual. No stars aligned for this engagement, it was merely physical, no soul bonds to tie together. 

One day, something pulsed and hummed. And he knew, he knew you were close, even if the boy was still asleep at noon, he could feel it. The pull, the stroke of his lover's touch. 

It was the magnet. 

—

The girl volunteered to tutor a smaller child somewhere in a Forest. You were excited for the adventure, excited to see the old trees and smell the pines, feel the humidity on her skin. But sadly there wasn’t a forest, only a lot made of brown earth. Houses scattered about that all looked similar in one way or another. Animals ran around freely, residing in trash cans and front steps, and it made you giggle. 

Would your lover remember the time he was a cat and you were a very small human child? The elders did not understand why the child adored the orange animal so much, or how the cat kept finding its way into their home. A few good years your lover and you had… until a fire consumed the home and you were both left spinning in darkness before landing home in new bodies, millions of miles apart.

Something about this place sent you buzzing the minute she opened her car door. You nearly screamed when that familiar tug pulled and buzzed. 

It was him! 

He was so very close, you could practically sniff him out. 

You did as you had always done when your lover was near, you sent star fire up to the girl’s brain, redirecting her to where she needed to go, where she would be happiest, where your lover had been staying. 

The home was painted in shades of light blue, and the stubborn girl questioned whether or not this was the correct house. 

I’m here! I’ve found you!

The boy suddenly woke, an irritating ache in his head as he rubbed sleep sand from his eyes. Your lover pushed and pushed the boy but he could not be hurried even if a hot poker was pressed into his rear. 

The girl felt dumb, a pickling sour of fear rose in her throat and she coughed to rid herself of the ache in her belly. You were swimming, dancing in her chest, warming her heart that you knew held so much love and was capable of destiny. 

Her knuckles raised to the door but the girl wasn’t given a chance to knock. The boy pinched his eyebrows together at the sight of this girl on his doorstep. Your lover shined in his eyes, waving back and blowing kisses. 

But the boy was annoyed. 

“What do you want?”

The girl felt warmth in her cheeks as she looked at her sneakers, “I— Sorry.. I was looking for Max Mayfield, I’m—.” 

“When I took a piss this morning I was standing up.”

The girl stared back in confusion but the boy only rolled his eyes before he looked down and pulled his waistband out enough so only he could see. 

“Yep, not a chick. Mayfield’s live across the road, brown trailer.” The door snapped shut before the girl could thank the boy. He stumbled back to bed, his headache felt like fire, as if his mind was being sawed in half. 

You were devastated, crestfallen! He was right there! In your grasp! Why was the boy being so difficult? Couldn’t he feel it in his chest? Couldn’t he feel the pull? 

The girl wiped a tear from her face as her feet hit the gravel, she muttered about how much she hated him, how awful he had always been to her. 

This would probably be the most difficult reunion you’d ever had with your lover, but in the eons you’d been together you had never failed, and you wouldn’t allow this year of 1985 be the first. 

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley w/ a sick baby Headcanons and Imagines list

Am I back with the Dad!Ghost content? You know damn well I am, also yes the render I used is courtesy of our beloved @ave661 who's most definitely annoyed by my existence by now for constantly tagging her.

Will I ever stop writing Dad!Ghost? Fuck no, why? Daddy issues and baby fever, if you want anyone to blame, it's those two. And yes, I will be upset if this doesn't do well. (AHEM, MY SOAP POST)

Taglist of who I this would enjoy this and requested: @puff0o0, @blingblong55, @cutenote, @wise-owl and @connorsui. This last creator by far has given me the best fucking commentary on my work and I have more works on and coming about Dad!Ghost, genuinely thank you so freaking much, you made me cry 😭.

I'M BACK! Let's start, shall we?

❥ Dad!Simon who's a very nervous first time father, well there's a first for everything and so is the first time your guys' baby got sick.

❥ Dad!Simon who immediately got them a check up, it was a common flu. Naturally medication and antibiotics were prescripted.

❥ Dad!Simon whose heart melts once he hears the soft whimpers of discomfort of the little on as they stir in the crib. The soft raspy cries and flushed chubby cheeks and warm, almost burning temperature.

❥ Dad!Simon who is trying his hardest not to look back the car seat when you were on your way to the clinic, to check on the baby whose little cheeks are bouncing a bit while being entertained by their pacifier, the little cooling patch on their head making their forehead crinkle a bit.

❥ Dad!Simon who was amused by how talkative the little one still is despite being so drowsy and in pain. Babbling their little heart out while sniffling.

"Dada!" the little on calls for Simon, almost in a screaming manner if it wasn't for the poor little thing's scratchy and sore throat.

They let out incoherent babbles to Simon as if trying to tell him something, as if they're chatting like they used to, the only adjustments being the constant sniffles and coughs. Them being reduced to their clogged nose while trying so hard to communicate. (Here's your visual)

Simon took the warm baby bottle from your hands to feed the little one.

"Bee, slow down.." A new nickname picked up by Simon to give to your little one, bumblebee, trying to tell them to slow down from chugging.

❥ Dad!Simon who never thought the baby wouldn't get any more clingy, at least not until they got sick. Constantly asking for "dada" and "mama" while he goes on about his day trying to help his wife, you, to keep up with the chores around the house.

❥ Dad!Simon who feels a bit guilty because he loves the comfort he's able to provide the baby, especially that they're not comfortable and less than happy with the sickness. Having the baby on his chest, patting their fragile back gently with a hand that's almost bigger than their body as their dad's heartbeat lulls them to sleep despite being irritable the whole day.

❥ Dad!Simon who slightly chuckles when the baby's breathing starts picking up, their lips trembling into a pout, little doe eyes starting to get glassy from the tears forming with a pitched whimper, only to be silenced by a kiss from both you and Simon. The toll of the sickness only ever being reduced with yours and his affection.

❥ Dad!Simon who joins in when the baby entertains themselves while playing with the various rattles and teething toys.

Bumblebee shaking the tiny rattle, a bit in frustration, knocking their self back. Luckily Simon had intense reflexes and managed to slip his hand in time between the cushioned but still quite hard floor and the baby's tiny head.

Simon let out a breath of relief, "You sure know how to scare me, don't you bee?"

The baby let out a strained giggle as their dad guided them to sit back up by their head and back.

❥ Dad!Simon who tries his best to make the baby take the prescripted medicine, that baby did NOT like the taste of it and he had to resort to sneaking it in their food to hide the taste of the bitter syrup.

"Come on pumpkin, copy dada okay?" Simon whispers while exhaling loudly out his nose, careful with the baby's sensitive ears.

❥ Dad!Simon who makes the little one blow their tiny nose.

The sleepy eyes of the little one trailing on him, trying to observe and copy, blowing their nose on the soft wipes Simon held against their nose.

After wiping it, Simon noticed how their nose now unclogged helped they sleep far more easier and with less frustration from them.

Shout out to a very consistent person who has been liking all the things I post despite them not being actual content @poohkie90 <3

Also I had no idea @simp4konig and I were mutuals, I'M FANGIRLING SO HARD WHEN I SAW THE LIKED POST NOTIF.

Sidenote: I'm sick rn y'all, like it just kept on coming. First was my period, then next thing I knew my nose is clogged and I'm sniffling, then the next I'm coughing and sneezing. There's so much blood rn I can't even. I don't feel good at all but I'm pushing through. Apologies if this was shorter than most if you expected from me, I wanted to elaborate on this prompt however I don't have much ideas so I'm sorry to disappoint.

[spencereidluver]

A is for About Time

july 07, 2008

summary: You’re paired up with Spencer on a mostly physiological case… He’s impressed with how many of his obscure references you understand and how you’re able to carry on conversations with him unlike anyone else.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: details of a case: strangulation, blood writing

“y/n and Reid, I need you to stay here at the station while the rest of us go search the area.” Hotch said, handing you and Spencer each a file. “There’s information about the case in here. The PD thinks we’re dealing with someone who is able to outsmart that of the normal man. We need both of your heads on this. Got it?”

You and Spencer both nodded. You were smart, no denying it, but you know he knows everything you know times two.

You’ve only been in the BAU six months, but you’d only need to know Spencer two minutes to know just how intelligent he is. You don’t quite understand why Hotch wants you to stay back on this case with him, but who are you to deny the man.

You and Spencer take the Manila folders and make your ways to the conference room. He does a little jog to catch up with you. “You know, I’ve never had anyone else stay back with me on cases like these.” He says as he slows his step to match yours.

“Yeah, we’ll maybe you’ve never had anyone quite on your level Dr. Reid.” you joke as you pull the glass door open. There’s a bulletin board with photos from the case. You see Spencer grimace at them out of your peripheral. No matter how many cases you go on, this is one thing that will never be easy for anyone in this job.

Spencer sprawls out his folder on the half-circle-shaped wooden table in the center of the small office. The first image is a photo from the crime scene. It’s a white brick wall with blood writing, it reads:

“in this moment, she was mine, mine, fair, perfectly pure and good”

“It’s a poem.” He says. “Porphyria’s Lover.”

You interrupt him, “a mid 1800’s poem written by Robert Browning.”

“You’ve heard of it?”

“A poem in which a beautiful woman’s lover strangles her with her own hair? Yeah I’ve heard of it.”

He flips through a few more pages in the folder. They’re all just copies of what’s on the bulletin. You’re not too sure why you were each given folders containing the same pictures, but I guess consistency is key in this job.

“I never took you as an 1800s poem freak, y/n.” He says with a smile that you can’t quite tell the intention behind.

“Maybe you’re not as many levels ahead of me as you thought, Dr. Reid.”

_____

It’s only day two of the case, but between stupid jokes and bonding over old literature, there’s only one thing you cannot seem to pinpoint the reasoning for. And probably the only way you’ll be able to directly connect to the unsub.

He’s working off a dating app. He searches for women who meet his physical criteria, then stalks them until he’s able to pounce. Smart guy. Very smart guy.

“The one thing I just cannot understand is why if the poem he’s working off of is so keen on blonde hair, why have only half of our victims been blondes?” Spencer says, reading through a print-out of the original poem.

“Maybe the women with brown hair were just more available?” You say, not sure if you believe it.

Spencer takes a sip of his coffee. “No, a man like this would want blondes. He’s working of the exact motive of the poem.”

“And he must have a lot of time with his victims to be able to strangle them with their hair.”

You and Spencer spend hours reading over the poem and investigating that photos. Hotch comes back to the station to bring photos from yet another crime scene. Another blonde. If anything, that takes you further from figuring him out, messing up the blonde-brown-blonde-brown victim order.

“There’s no way he’s picking these victims at random. He’d have to spend far too long watching them to know their work schedule to be able to get into their apartments.” Hotch says. “I need you guys to further analyze the poem. It could have the key and hopefully we can find him before he strikes again.”

You and Spencer spend a further hour and a half looking over and annotating the poem. You’re both about to give up on the poem when you notice something: the rhyme scheme.

“A-B-A-B-B,” you think outloud.

“What?” Spencer is confused.

“The rhyme scheme, Spencer. It’s A-B-A-B-B. Auburn-Blonde-Auburn-Blonde-Blonde. That has to be it!”

“So he’ll go back to the beginning. He’s looking for his next victim with auburn hair, just like Julia Dempsey and Katie Flanagan. Nice catch, y/n. We’ve gotta call Hotch.”

He pulls out his phone and dials the eight digits quickly. He fills in Hotch on the info you find as you email over to Garcia. It’s only a matter of time before Morgan and Hotch move in on the man, Garcia finding him from a simple categorical search of dating profile preferences.

_____

You’re sat on the jet next to Spencer on your way home. You’re going on about old literature and artifacts pertaining to them. No one else understands a word either of you are saying, but they’re rather in awe of how the two of you are able to bounce off each other and carry on about, what to them, is utter nonsense.

It’s late. Early. Well, both. 2:47 AM. You’re leaned with your elbow on the table and your head in your hand looking at Spencer as he recites an old poem from memory. His voice is calm and warm. JJ and Emily are asleep in the booths next to you, Hotch minding his own in the back, and Rossi and Morgan make small talk a little closer to the front.

“y/n?” You hear your name being whispered.

You hum in response, opening your eyes to see a wide-eyed Spencer looking at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He says.

“It’s okay. I’m kinda glad you did, my neck would be sore when we land.”

“We’re still three hours from Virginia. Think you can make it that long?”

“Hell no, I’m exhausted.” You cross your arms on the table, laying your head in them as you try to get comfortable.

“That position may feel better on your neck, but it’ll do a number on your back in record time.”

“Well, Spencer, there’s only so much room to work with on this jet.”

“I can move so you can lay in the seat if you’d like. But that could also hurt your neck considering you’ll be lying flat and have no incline.”

“Well then why don’t you tell me the most comfortable position and let me sleep in peace.”

“Studies show the best position for sleeping without a pillow is leaning against a wall or something of an upright nature. But there are no walls to lean up against, so you’re pretty much out of luck there y/n.”

He shifts in his seat, reaching for the blanket behind him. He tosses it at you and settles back down. He sips from his coffee. No wonder he’s not going to sleep, he drinks coffee 15 out of the 24 hours in a day.

You scoot a bit closer to him, wrapping the blanket around yourself. You tip your head forward, groaning. Tiredness overcomes you more than it already has, making it near impossible to even keep your eyes open.

“Hey, Spence…” You look up at him. His head tilts down to meet your gaze, flattening his lips in form of a response. “Can I…” You let your sentence fade out, pushing yourself closer to him.

He softens his voice. “Hmm?”

Before he can even finish his hum your head has slumped on his shoulder and you’re already falling unconscious on him. You feel him reach his arm around you- pulling the blanket up- you assume. He does that, but his arm never leaves. His head flops gently on top of yours, his one unruly waft of hair falling over his face. You could stay like this forever.

“It’s about time those two realize how similar they are.” You hear Rossi’s gravely voice say.

And just like that, you’re asleep, in what is probably the most comfortable you’ve ever been in your life.

_____

next chapter: b is for Boy Genius

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

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a/n: hiii! i really hope you enjoyed the first chapter! chapter 2 will be released tomorrow! sorry if this one was a little boring, i promise the next chapter is more interesting. i'm just trying to set up the story a little before we get into it!

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