#like I said just a self-indulgent mess....
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Acts of Service [Caleb]
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Content: Self-Indulgent, Brown-Skinned Reader, Brown-Eyed Reader, Domestic Fluff, Confessions, Getting Together, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Soft Caleb, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Pronouns: She/Her
Note: I see Caleb within the childhood friend trope. Anything outside of that makes me uncomfortable, so I wonât be engaging with it in any sort of way.
Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so donât forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing peopleâs rambles in the tags)!
This workâs concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries
Wanna support me? Hereâs my Ko-Fi!
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The second you are about to enter the shower, a presence makes itself known at your door. You sigh, heading to the door with an inkling of who it is.Â
âHey, pip-squeakâwoah!â Calebâs cheerful greeting turns into a flustered one as he takes in your towel covered figure.Â
âHurry up, youâre letting all the heat out.â You wave him in as you turn around. âYouâre the one who interrupted me, so now you gotta wait.â
âI, uhâŚokayâŚâ He shut the door behind him, lingering in the front hall.Â
And wait he did. You didnât take too long, but you did take your time. Especially with moisturizing. You had to take extra precautions in this cold weather, after all. Least your brown skin end up ashy. You put on your coziest clothes, and a nice fragrance. Taking a swig of water to rehydrate, you take a moment to ponder. You need to wash your hairâthatâs also on todayâs to-do list, however, you really didnât want to wash your hair now since the shower had tuckered you out immensely.
Oh, wait. There is someone whoâs done it before in your house right now.
âCaleb!â You rush out your room, and burst into the living room. âCan you wash my hair?â
His face scrunches up for a moment before it relaxes into a grin. âYou leave me here all by my lonesome for an hour, and now you wanna put me to work?â He chuckled as he stands. âSure, Iâll do it.âÂ
âGreat! Iâll go get my stuffâcan you rinse the sink out?âÂ
âAlready on it.âÂ
Having Caleb wash your hair was nice. Not only because you donât have to wash your hair yourself (hehe), but also becauseâŚit reminds you of the old days. Heâs still as gentle as he was before, he still takes the time on your problem areas, and he makes sure the temperature is perfect before putting you back under the water.Â
Youâre damn near asleep when he starts three-strand twisting your hair. The only thing keeping you awake is the chocolate that he had giving youââas a friendâ, he said.
âYou know, itâs been a while since Iâve done this, but it doesnât feel like weâve missed a beat.â Caleb reminisces.
You smile. âYeah, I was thinking the same thing earlier.â You yawn. âEven though my routine change a bit, you didnât screw up.â
âScrew up?â He flicks the back of your neck. âIâm hurt that you think that Iâd mess you up.â
The two of you share a laugh, and itâs nice. How long has it been since youâd been able to laugh like this? To be this close? To share in each otherâs warm presences?
You yawn again as your bonnet is carefully put on. âSo what now Did you have anything planned?â
âNah, just wanted to come and visitâ
You lean back into him, gazing up at his flushed face. âHow about this: you go out and buy some stuff to stay the night and ingredients for dinner while I take a nap?â
âYouâre havinâ me do all the work while you laze around yet again.â He shook his head without an inch of malice.Â
âLike youâd have it any other way.â
His smile becomes softer as he replies. âYouâre right. I wouldnât have it any other way.â He gently nudges you off him so he can stand. âSo what do you want for dinner?â
âSurprise me.â You join him, stretching. âIâm putting all the work into planning this date, you can do a little something.â
You make your way to your bedroom, a skip in your step as you hear the tail end of his sentence that he murmurs under his breath.Â
â...sheâs gonna be the end of me.â
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Your nap came and went. You donât know how much time passed, but it didnât matter as you were woken up to the delicious smell of Calebâs food. You were immediately able to pick out the fried chicken just from the smell.Â
âOh, Iâm bout to smack this back like a damn heart attack.â You say as you take your seat. You notice that the flowers that he had also brought are now being used as a centerpiece.Â
How romantic.Â
Caleb outright laughed, as he placed a few dumplings on your plate. âWhere did that come from?â
âA friend.â You say through a mouthful of rice. âWhen she said that it really resonated with me.â
The meal is just like earlier when he was twisting your hair. Itâs warm and inviting. Itâs like meeting each other again without missing a beat. Itâs familiar.Â
ItâsâŚhome.Â
Heâs home.Â
You smile. âWelp, youâve given me a wonderful Azure Echoâs Dayâeven though I was supposed to do all the work. So! Iâve got you on next time!â You wink at him.Â
His smile falters a bit. âHahaâŚyou donât gotta toâŚâ
âI insist.â You push, âI mean, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didnât?â
This time the smile falls entirely. âCan youâŚnotâŚdo that?â
Your elbows hit the table, fingers lace together as you lean on your head on them. âDo you think Iâm joking, Caleb?â
He looks away quietly.Â
âIâm not being serious.â You sigh. âIâm not playing with your feelings. I know how you feel about me, and I know how you feel about you. AndâŚâ You pause, chewing your bottom lip for a moment before continuing. â...If we donât cross the line now, we might not ever get the chance to again. We canât keep being scared of destroying our peaceful friendship while being miserable because we never even tried to be more than that.â
He finally looks at you, and says your name ever so softly. His sugilite gaze is the same, and full of love. You wonder if your own brown one is reflecting the same.
âSo?â A mischievous hint in your tone. âAre you gonna ask?â
âBut you just saidââ
âYou should still ask me properly!âÂ
His sighs through a smile before getting up and rounding the table. He pulls you up to join him, holding you close and asks:
âWill you be my girlfriend?âÂ
Although the two of you did it a little backwards, February 14th marks the day that the two of you shared your first kiss as a couple.
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THIS WAS WRITTEN FOR MEEEEE
ON AZURE ECHO'S DAY
DURING BLACK HISTORY MONTH
FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Ko-Fi | Masterlist
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#alie ficlets#alie ficlets: love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads x reader#caleb x reader#lads caleb x reader#brown skinned reader#brown eyed reader
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Does anyone actually say that Ladybug and Adrien are fake somehow?
Yeah, people absolutely have that take. It's what spawned the original post. One too many fics and shipping poles that treated Marinette and Chat Noir as somehow wrong for their crushes. (I apparently read fast. My ML fic's read count is in the thousands at this point. It's enough to let me notice trends that bug me whereas one fic would just be a shrug and move on thing.) On the Adreinette side you get, "Chat Noir is the true Adrien! Civilian Adrien is just a mask! Marinette only loves the fake Adrien so she doesn't deserve him!"
Chat Noir gets less flak, but I've seen it enough to know it's very much a thing. There's a reason Marichat wins out over Ladynoir in almost every poll. If you ever see one, read the comments for the logic and you'll see what I mean. People with this view seem to think things like, "Chat Noir doesn't really love Marinette because Ladybug isn't stuttery and awkward around him! He has to love her when she's a mess!"
This kind of thing is so popular that I had to stop reading fics that paired Marinette with other people because the "Marinette is the true version" thing showed up all the freaking time. So many of these fics felt less like shipping stories and more like Adrien bashing where he was punished for liking Ladybug and not Marinette. It was draining. Even my favorite one has a scene to make sure Adrien feels bad for missing what he could have had and it's a freaking no powers AU!
I actually had a really lovely conversation about this topic when the blog was young because this is one that gets under my skin whenever I come across it and I occasionally need to vent a bit. The kind person who indulged my annoyance straight up said that they used to think that the square "have to fall in love as Marichat bc that's when they can be real with each other." Which was not a stance that was unique to them by any means. They were just validating my first-hand observations of the way SOME people view the ship/characters.
There is a version of the true selves stuff that's genuinely sweet though. It's the version you basically summed up where it's less about these two being the "true" versions and more about Marichat letting the two get to know each other without the pressure of the crushes complicating things. After all, the canon square is only a few hours removed from love at first sight which certainly adds pressure that Marichat removes. The existence of this version that means I don't hate Marichat or even the words "true self", I'm just warry when I see them as I never know what I'm about to see.
While I get why canon's near insta love and subsequent writing issues would draw a person to Marichat, I'll also once again argue that the issue at hand isn't the various ship dynamics, it's canon's writing as the awkward Marichat arc shows. Even though the crushes only flipped after four whole season, canon Marichat doesn't feel any deeper than canon Adrienette or canon Ladynoir. It's played incredibly superficial and doesn't even bother to acknowledge that Chat Noir and Marinette have a functional friendship as established in episodes like Evillustrator, Glaciator, and Glaciator 2. Elation writes Marichat as if they've never interacted before and Chat Noir is just going on a date with a fan he's never officially met. Passion writes Ladynoir as awkwardly as Adrienette always was. Ladybug's months of platonic partnership did nothing to change how she acts when she has a crush or how successful she is at confessing.
In a better show, canon's Marichat arc would be used to set up Adrienette as a more solid couple. Marichat would allow Adrien to see that Marinette loves him even when he's being goofy, but they'd agree to not date because a hero and a civilian dating is too risky. Then Adrienette would happen and, oh look, Adrien can occasionally crack jokes and be silly because he knows Marinette can love him even when he's at his most Chat Noir in addition to being his most Adrien. Marinette is a little surprised, but fine with it. Canon doesn't go there though. As far as the show is concerned, Marichat essentially never happened. It was a one-off fever dream both characters completely forgot. Canon Adrienette has Adrien playing the perfect flawless boyfriend who never annoys Marinette with his jokes.
In summary, that post wasn't about saying that Marichat is bad or unhealthy or that there's no version of the true selves thing that's cute. It was me venting a bit after seeing one too many instances of people acting like Ladrien, Ladynoir, and Adrienette could never be healthy because friends to lovers is some sort of golden standard when it's absolutely not. It's a neutral preference. Each side is fine. What matters is how you write it.
Why the "True Selves" Theory is Insulting
Image for a second that you have a friend who's a bit of a ditz. She's also fun, creative, and sweet. You enjoy being around her, but you've never seen her as more than a friend. Then, one day, a fire breaks out at an event that you and your friend are attending. Your lives are suddenly in mortal peril and the same goes for everyone around you because you can't find the exit. You think that you're going to die.
Then, suddenly, your friend transforms. Not in a magical way, it's just a personality shift, but it might as well be magical because it's like nothing you've ever seen! The ditziness is gone, replaced by laser focus and a take-charge attitude that has everyone following your friend without question. When all is said and done, everyone lives because of you friend. As it turns out, her tendency to get easily distracted means that she's a fantastic in-the-moment problem solver.
Going through that completely changes how you see this girl. You no longer just like her, no, you're now deeply in love with her. You tell a mutual friend about this and they laugh at you, then say, "Don't be silly, that wasn't really her! Her true self isn't that brave girl who saved your life! That was special circumstances that don't count. All that counts is the way she acts when there isn't a crisis going on. It doesn't matter that you've always liked her and enjoyed her company, if you didn't fall in love with based solely on her ditzy self, then you don't really love her."
Most people would call this mutual friend insane because of course going through crazy experiences changes the way we view people! Imagine if you had an allergic reaction and your significant other's reaction was to panic and run away, leaving you to die. You only live because you manage to grab your phone and call '911.' That would understandably lead many people to reassess if this is the person they want to spend their life with just like the opposite experience might make you see a person as a good life partner.
Marinette is Ladybug. She gets full credit for everything she's done in the suit and it's perfectly fine for Adrien to become attracted to her after he sees her in action. It doesn't mean that he only values her Ladybug side. He quite clearly cares for Marinette, he just hasn't seen her in the right light for him to fall in love. (And, if we're being frank, Marinette acts like Ladybug all the time when he's not around or when he is around, but a crisis is going on. She's really not that different from her alter ego.)
Along similar lines, Marinette isn't wrong for being drawn to Adrien's sweeter side more than his over-the-top jokey side. There's a reason why Glaciator ended with her blushing. Compare the end of Glaciator to the end of Origins and, yeah, same energy because - in that moment - Chat Noir was letting his Adrien side out by being more sincere and vulnerable, which are the things that Marinette values most in a romance and the things that he rarely shows while in the mask. It doesn't mean that she hates his jokey side, it's just not going to win her heart when Adrien's right there being sweet and sincere while Chat Noir hides his feelings behind a smile and a laugh.
In fact, it's pretty insulting to Adrien to say that someone shouldn't be attracted to his more vulnerable side. That his sincerity is worth less than his jokes. Almost as insulting as telling Marinette that her Ladybug side doesn't count and she should get no credit for being brave as that's not really her. Loving her only counts if a person falls in love while she's behaving in her most over-the-top, cringe, embarrassing way.
I don't know about you, but I would never want someone to hold me to that standard nor would I hold my significant other to that standard! It's perfectly normal to have things that you don't love about your significant other. In fact, I'd argue that part of the magic of a real, lasting romance is having someone who loves you even though you're not perfect. If you are looking for a partner who never annoys you or does something wrong, then you will never find happiness because that person does not exist.
Now that I've said all of that, I want to add that I do think that marichat, "love both sides" stories can be cute. It's just not One True Path to Real Love. It's totally fine if the square starts dating based on the things that they find attractive about each other and then just continue to be in love as they learn about the other side. If anything, that's normal. Learning about a person is what dating is all about! A good relationship is no different than a good friendship, you just get some bonus perks if you're into that kind of thing.
I'll also note that I'm not criticizing stories where Marinette feels like she's the "real" version and Ladybug is the fake because that's a really understandable thing to be nervous about. Tikki saying that shit? Hard no. Terrible mentoring.
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another super self-indulgent chapter 20 / 21 drawing
edgar belongs to jhonen vasquez
scriabin belongs to @zarla-s
#sunny's art#vargas#edgar vargas#scriabin vargas#zarla s#vargas zarla#scriabin#hello and good night#* changes her brush again *#textured brushes for sai2 save me#textured brushes for sai2#save me textured brushes for sai2#this is just a mess of me trying new stuff . i like the result .#well ummm hello . time to ramble about my stuff . you can stop reading this now . if you want#going back to school on tuesday .#drew some other stuff but but they're related to weird crossovers or they're just sketches . i might post them .#this is supposed to be a dump account after all#i've been fine ! holidays were nice and i had many days to rest . got a new phone too .#also my birthday's in idk like 19 days ??? excited !!!#this was so fun to draw#i was just doing this and then my brain said " hey this is like super self-indulgent#but i don't care i enjoy to draw them like this way too much to stop#i'll try to get something else done before going back to school#i want to paint something else for a friend too . . . ugh not enough time !!!!#okay i can't think of anything else bye
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What if⌠Suiren in Vaatuâs colours đłđ
#my art#artists on tumblr#the legend of korra#avatar suiren au#original character#sotrl suiren#Kat once said. and I quote â âSuiren would look really good with Vaatuâs colours. you canât argue because Iâm rightâ#so here I am. not arguing and instead giving the people what they want#because SHE DOES look good in Vaatuâs colours#donât get me wrong I love her in her usual blue. but the red & black just does something to my brain#lmao Iâm picturing her fusing with Vaatu and getting like a magical girl transformation đđđ#okay not really but. if Vaatu could fuse with Unalaq to become⌠whatever the fuck that thing that sometimes appears in my nightmares was#then he could definitely dye her dress a different colour if he wanted to. okay? okay#and heâd zap her fire nation bracelet into a water tribe one bc itâs important to balance the colour scheme đ¤#(for the record this wouldnât actually happen in universe Iâm just messing around)#this AU is just way too fun to play around with. yes I will make my already badass OC into an overpowered Mary Sue who replaces the mc#what are you gonna do about it?#I canât stop drawing stuff for it#focusing literally only on the fun silly goofy parts because thereâs enough heavy stuff in other verses AND irl already#maybe I just want family shenanigans mixed in with a rewrite of LoKâs shitty politics? have you ever thought about that?#is that such a crime?#and most of all. this makes me happy and I like to indulge in it. and enjoying creating is already so rare for me#so as long as this AU keeps being enjoyable for me Iâm gonna keep at it no matter what anyone says#avatar suiren is my little self indulgent concept that I came up with when I was 13 and waited far too long to do something with#so now Iâm making up for all those years#sue me :)#(is it just me or have I been saying âsue meâ way too much recently. idk. my momâs a lawyer* that porbably has something to do with it)#(*has a law degree but never once used it. why the fuck would she get one when she already has an accountantâs degree? hell if I know)#anyway random side ramble about my momâs life story aside#what colour do you think a balanced avatarâs eyes would turn when they go into the avatar state?
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Quick thing to prove I'm alive! I technically have more stuff, but I've been very distracted, and I don't feel like typing up all the descriptions at the moment, and I also don't know how much of it I want to post. Eventually! When I'm paying attention!
#Some Kinda Nonsense#It is GOOD distracted to be fair#It just involves a big shift in schedule and such#And in adapting to that I miss other things#I got ideas.... I wanna draw them....#And WRITE them too#Side note does anyone happening to notice my tags want self-indulgent fanfic#I wanna post it but am also So Scared#Might also repost a bunch of writing to AO3#Try and fully jump ship from DA and all that#But then I gotta come up with descriptions and that means I gotta READ stuff from like a DECADE ago#It is art and it is valid but I'm still gonna struggle so much about it if I do it#Also there is....... so much of it#Gonna fill my account with so many ficlets and it'll be a mess#Saw someone else make a year's results one work?#But that's its own kind of mess#Hmmmmmm#Anyway this means nothing in relation to this art nhfgbdfs#I asked friends for prompts and one person said a dragon in a silly hat#That's.... pretty much it
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ââââââââââ á° bluemerakis ŕźŕźŕźŕź âââ
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â memory foam â
â ۜৠâ
pairing ŕ¨ŕ§ soldier boy x fem .á reader
synopsis â soldier boy teaches you how to roll a blunt and then makes you hold it between your lips while he fucks you into insanity. just filth honestly bc this man is filthy and i love it
warnings .á cussing, light misogyny throughout (i mean,, come on), v light dirty talk, masturbation f receiving, hair-pulling, grinding, edging/overstimulation, spanking, fingering, unprotected sex p in v. i feel like these warnings have yâall opening this fic with a therapist on speed dial. if i forgot anything pls lmk!
word count ~ 7.3k (this was supposed to be a drabble đ)
ââââââââââââââââââââââ
Lithe trails of smoke crept over the horizon of your laptop screen, which called your attention toward Benâs seated figure at the small, rounded table near the kitchen. You reached to lower your laptop screen an inchâjust enough to properly reveal the schemes unravelling beneath your boyfriendâs hunched over frame. You didnât doubt that he was currently unravelling some recent haul of self-indulgent narcotics because as much as you loved your severely traumatised, addict boyfriend, he didnât have any other tasteful way to pass time. Well, when he wasnât ploughing you into the mattress and pummelling your senses into an otherworldly abyss of pleasure, of course.
Ben had slipped into the apartment an hour ago with that dubious, white plastic bag in clutchâno print to identify any luxurious takeaway youâd have killed to plunge into your gurgling stomach. Youâd been tempted to ask about it then, but heâd entered with such a thick swathe of broodiness cramping his brows that youâd laid off the interrogation entirely. Though, just by stealing a single glance of the bag in its own, unassuming simplicity, it could have branded itself as some sketchy stash of drugs heâd picked up from one of his regular dealers on the way home.
You honed in on the man of the hour, your unflattering nosiness taking the cake on the mental debate of whether or not you should interfere with Benâs activities. It was a debate that had never happened to begin with because meddling in anything and everything that he did was practically your brandâno questions asked. Youâd once called it a loving obsession, but Ben had called it a hounding cock block on his highs. Youâd been quick to rebrand your pestering of him as your own guilty addiction, and he hadnât had much to say in response to that. He had his addictions, and you had yoursâhim. Oh, he so mustâve regretted accommodating you into his life.
Your boyfriendâs sharp features were currently kneaded into a focused frown, his head tilted down to where he emptied out the plastic packet onto the table. Your chin perked with sly interest, no further surprise to be unwrapped when you glimpsed a sprawl of paper and herbs. Drugs, as expected, but nothing nearly as hard as his usual indulgences. Your attention flickered up to the blunt currently clutched between his lipsâthe bane of your existenceâbefore you lowered your focus back down to the table, where his busy hands alternated between segregating the devious mess and popping out his smoking stick to dispel a pull.
You didnât need to squint hard to confidently label said herbs as weedâonce the distinct scent left his lips to shroud the modest apartment and assault your sensitive nose, it was a dead giveaway. Youâd never been much of a fan of smoking to begin with, and weed mightâve been the rankest pick of it all, but itâs something youâd gradually grown tolerant of. Itâs not like you had much of a say in the matter, anyway, given that your boyfriend had his lips wrapped around a cig almost as often as he had them wrapped around you. It was a relationship that had existed long before yours, so who were you to complain, really?
Besides, this was his apartment, which meant that his guilty pleasures were anything but your business. And you doubted that your complaint would manage a graze of his ears before his cock would plug your lips to shut you the hell up about it. He didnât much like when you had an attitude about his aforementioned hobbies.
âAh, shit!â Ben exclaimed angrily around the bluntâs bodyâa muffled sound that banished smoke from his pursed lips. You watched as he tossed aside the plastic packet, seizing his tempter by the throat as he thudded his palm against the table. âFuckinâ dickless prick sold me short,â he grumbled to nobody in particular, releasing the blunt for a disgruntled exhale before his lips took to it once more like his next, dire breath.
You plugged your lips at his temper tantrum, throttling a chuckle you knew would be severely misplaced during this fit of his. You couldnât help it, though. Ben loved to pretend that he was âman enoughâ to be unbothered by trivial things, but it never took much to get under his skin. The irony was so palpable that you couldâve poked and prodded at it with ridicule. âWhatâre you doing?â You called to him with an accentuated chirp to your toneâyouâre curious, oblivious, not probing.
Benâs eyes lifted from the table for a second to glance in your direction, where you sat comfortably cushioned against the headboard of his bed. His glare hovered for a few measly seconds, holding no adoration at this particular time. It made you utter a mental damn. At most, heâd give you a wink or a scheming narrowing of his eyes that spoke all sorts of dirty heâd have loved to work you through. But he merely turned back to the task at hand, freeing the blunt from his tightly-wrung lips.
Yeah, women are the moody ones, you remarked mentally. What a chuckle-fest.
The supe gave a hefty exhale, smoke streaming out in a slow gust that told you a somber story of a shit-filled day. His whole demeanour was off-put. A good girlfriend wouldâve asked him about it, but a smarter oneâlike yourselfâknew err on the side of caution. Youâd long since learned not to pester him about his emotions because, to quote Ben: âonly pussies hold hands and waste daylight wailinâ about this ând that. Me? I ainât strokinâ anybodyâs cock with some me too bullshit. You gotta act the man and suck it up.â
Yeah, you werenât going to open that can of worms again.
Without sparing you another glance, Ben jerked his head in your direction. âGet over here,â he demanded distractedly. âItâs âbout time I teach ya the hustle oâ this shit.â
âThanks for the offer, but Iâll leave the lung cancer to you,â you poked light-heartedly, but you shifted your laptop aside to scamper across the mattress regardless. Unfortunately, you were the type to spend any given chance at your boyfriendâs side, and it didnât matter how trivial the activity wasâit was all about the quality time. Ben was overly tolerant of your clinginess, so much so that you almost thought he enjoyed the attention more than you did. But that wasnât anything heâd ever admit to, were it true to begin with.
You ambled across the open-plan apartment towards his smoke-enveloped figure, and upon reaching the table, you pulled out the chair opposite him to take up his company. All the while, Benâs attention remained fixed on his concoctions, never once straying from the table to acknowledge that youâd joined him.
âWhy would I need to know how to do any of this, anyway? You know I donât smoke,â you asked once you sat yourself down, hand swivelling through the air to disperse the suffocating haze of the weed, lingering under your nose like an intoxicating fart. You watched his free hand sort the dried and shredded weed into evenly-sized piles with one of your ancient loyalty cardsâa card youâd lost a few weeks back. The bastard mustâve nicked it from your purse. And knowing him, heâd probably used it for plenty more than sorting weed.
âNo,â he agreed, âbut I do. Besides, itâs somethinâ every fine woman such as yourself oughta know. Itâs not usually what women waste their time learninâ, but Iâm sure I could have ya mastering this shit in no time. Youâre a surprisingly quick learner,â he murmured busily, pausing only to secure the blunt between his lips once more.
You didnât know whether to feel offended at that observation, or to accept it with the knowledge that Ben didnât usually hand out complimentsâeven backhanded onesâoutside of, well, being inside of you. You dismissed the thought with a flick of your eyes, but soon, you were drawn to his face once more. You could have grown jealous with the amount of time his lips spent wrapped around that paper-wrapped crap, but youâd long since laid off the visuals. He enjoyed your pouting way too muchâalways finding a way to ridicule you for it.
âWhy the sudden insistence that I learn this crap?â You asked.
After a deep pull, Ben retrohaled the smoke off to the side, conscious not to direct it onto your intolerant senses. âCause it sure hits the spot when your girl can slip you a win after the dayâs been a fuckinâ ball-buster,â he mumbled.
âOr,â you countered, head tilting with a pretence of consideration as you watched him sort the piles of weed into small plastic bags. âHereâs a thoughtâand just humour me, would you? You could make yourself one,â you finished, hands coming forward to fold onto the table as your eyes flickered up to Ben expectantly.
He lifted his head to fix you with peeved eyes, the cardâs rim stilling against the last herded pile of weed as his free hand plucked the stick from his lips. âThe hell you think I been doinâ all this time?â He challenged pointedly. The bluntâs ignited end pulsed with heatâas if to emphasise his words. âIs it too much to ask that you fix me a goddamn escape after a long fuckinâ day?â
âIt is in that tone, Mister,â you scoffed, leaning yourself across the table in an attempt to pluck the blunt from his fingers, but he was quick to catch you at the wrist. Your lip quirked at the force with which he restrained you, your eyes slurring up to his with a heavy, seductive whisk of your lashes.
Ben always caught the intention behind your every act of defiance. He enjoyed it, even, despite the permanent hint of dour in his expression. âHands off my shit,â he warned, his pretty green eyes drilling into yours to emphasise his point. âDonât make me fuck the nerve right outta youâyou know better.â
You took your lower lip into an amused bite, enjoying the way you so easily seemed to rile him up. Yeah, your boyfriend was a Supe, but it was moments like this that made you feel like you held all the powerâand you revelled in it. âNobody controls meâ, your ass. You had Ben wrapped around your finger. He knew it, too, he just wouldnât admit it because what man wants to admit that heâs pussy-whipped? No, heâd rather bathe in denial by fucking you senseless each night, smothering your head into the sheets and coaxing his name from your foul lips so that he felt he had some semblance of control over the way you made him feel.
You succumbed to his possessive grasp, leaning your body further across the table as your head tilted in cheek. âDo I know better?â You absolutely did, and so did he. But part of the funâpart of what made this dynamic between the two of you so riveting, is that you pretended to act stupid, and Ben eagerly indulged it as an opportunity to condescend you and further inflate his toxic ego. And something more.
The supeâs lip quirked in amusement as he glared you down, but the sentiment didnât reach high enough to mould his eyes into kindness. âGonna play it like that, hm?â he murmured, bringing the blunt back to his lips before he leaned further into your proximity, his lips brushing against yours with the tease of a kiss. But he didnât follow through with his unspoken promise. Instead, his lips parted only to huff the smoke directly into your face.
Your nose scrunched at the scent, your free hand lifting from the table to shoo away the smoke. âBen!â You protested, but his grip on you didnât budge until the intrusive fog thinned out into the rest of the room. You gave a light cough at being a forced second party to his smoking, and thatâs when he finally released your wristâmore like discarded it in a careless toss. You retreated with a huff and sat yourself back down. âDick!â
âPussy,â he retorted through a shit-eating smirk, but he quickly came to realise that the amusement was wholly one-sided when he glimpsed your ruffled brows. There were very few times you could have convinced him that his actions werenât funny. âAh, come on,â he drawled, attention lowering back to the weed as he suckled on the smoking stick once more. âYou know ya love it,â he mumbled.
âOh, bite me,â you murmured lightly, crossing your arms as you watched him continue his work. You could have chosen to pout a little longer, but youâd have been naive to settle down with somebody like Ben and not expect him to pull a nasty stunt now and again. Besides, you did like him mean. The subtle glow that beamed briefly within the crook of your thighs was testament to that.
âYou ever roll a blunt before?â Ben muttered, eyes downturned to where his hands began prepping an irregularly squared piece of paper. The question was sheer stupidityâso much so that you felt the the weight of the frown on your brows as you parted your lips to answer him with far too much eager spunk. But Ben pulled the cancer stick from his lips and interjected without missing a breath.
âJust pullinâ your legââcourse ya havenât. As far as Iâm concerned, youâre the fuckinâ Mother Reverend of the Church of Holy Smokes.â At that jab, his eyes lifted to yours with a smugness that wound his lips thin.
You gave a dismissive roll of your eyes. âYeah, yeah,â you hummed, your arms unfolding to rest your hands against the table. âYou can keep shitting on me, Benjamin, but letâs not forget just how ancient you are. Once your lightâs snuffed out, old man, maybeâjust maybe, Iâll consider learning how to smoke, and itâll be your ashes I probe in that damn ashtray.â Oh, how the roles would reverse.
Ben neglected the piece of paper heâd been gripping and straightened himself from the table. He leaned back into his chair with a gruff chuckle, his gaze raking you over with a light air of amusement. He plucked the blunt from his lips and hovered over the table as he gave a compliant cock of his headâa gesture that said, yeah, I could get behind that.
âJust make sure you put the tray somewhere I can get a good view of your ass,â he retorted with a brisk wink before he pressed the cigarâs inflamed nose into the ashtray loitering beside his hand. âAnd the tray better not be this ugly fuckinâ thing. Get me somethinâ. . . quaintânone oâ this modern day lifeless shit and a half thatâs got fuckinâ pussy power or some ball-less, feministic propo shit like that scribbled on the side.â
You narrowed your eyes mischievously. âOnly you will demand everything your way even in death,â you chuckled, then you tilted your head inquisitively. âSo youâre telling me that if I had to get my breasts casted with clay to make two matching bowls for your ashes, youâd have a problem with that? Is it too modern for you?â
Benâs brows hoisted up a look of consideration, then his lips pursed with content acceptance. âBaby,â he drawled. âYou do that and Iâll be back to fuck you in your dreams every. goddamn. night,â he promised.
âI guess that might help me not to forget you,â you retorted cheekily.
âDamn right,â he mumbled cockily. âCanât forget a dick as givinâ as this one, anywayâand youâd be kiddinâ yourself otherwise. Little cock-slut like you? You were made to memorise every inch of my dick like a butt-print in a shitty velvet sofa.â He birthed a grin so condescending that it barely left room for you to breathe.
Smug, obscene asshole, you scoffed silently, but you couldnât deny the truth behind his claim, and you had countless memories to serve as evidence. Ben knew thatâit was the singular thing that warranted his sheer audacity to boast. For lack of better words, you flashed him the finger before bundling yourself back up, arms crossed against your chest as a ruffled gesture for him to continue his little project.
He made an amused noise halfway between a grunt and a chuckle before shifting in his seat and guiding his hands back to the concoction before him. âCâmon, take a look,â he urged, plucking up some of the shredded weed between his fingers and gingerly placing it onto the squared paper. He took a moment to prod along the scattered herbs until a coherent line was formed atop the material. âThis right here,â he said, prodding the paper, âsâcalled rollinâ paper. Gotta wrap it around the weed real nice and tight, like the foreskin of a sexually-abstained father of the church. Or some creakinâ, olâ geezer.â
âSo like you, then?â You interjected, and you couldâve sworn you heard the snap of his neck as his eyes darted up to scorn you.
âCallinâ me old when youâre the one who canât walk after one night in my bed is a liâl comical, donâtcha think?â He retorted, eyes lowering to where he rolled his thumb along the ball of his index finger to dislodge the clinging weed scraps. âMan,â he laughed in disbelief. âYou got helluva mouth on ya.â
âOh, so thatâs what itâs called?â You chirped sarcastically, rubbing your lips together as though smearing some chapstick along the edges. You knew it was a stupid, bratty punch to throw, but you thought it worth it if it would coax any sort of reaction from Benâand it did.
He glanced up at you from beneath hitched brows, pushing out a chuckle so forced, it couldâve starred the backtrack of some poorly made sitcom. But the faux amusement in his expression was dropped in an instant, his chin making an impatient jut in your directionâlike the firm finger of a motherâs chide. âShut the fuck up and pay attention.â
Your eyes widened in mock as you muttered a âyes, sir,â and turned your attention back to the table, your heading craning with far too much curiosity for your liking. Your eyes trailed every whisk and wander of his skilled fingers as he prepped another paper like the last. âDoes it matter how much weedâs in a single blunt?â
Cautiously, Ben moved back to the first paper, his lips subconsciously jutting into a focused pout. It was something he did often without a notice, and you couldnât help but savour the scene with a subtle grin. It was adorable, but for the sake of preserving the clueless tradition, you never said anything about it. You knew heâd find some way to get butt-hurt over you pointing it out, and then youâd be stuck with him forging some permanent, stoic expression to fend off the horrors of being called adorable.
He anchored the topmost corners of the rolling paper with his middle fingers before grabbing the bottom corners between his thumb and index finger, finally folding the square in half. ââBout a gram or twoâll do,â he finally replied. âBut the paperâs already sized, so itâs just gotta be enough to fit in it. . .â he murmured busily, trailing off as he focused his attention onto carefully lifting the assembly from the tableâdetermined not to spill any of the contents and further rob himself of the stock heâd been sold short on.
âNow,â Ben cleared his throat with utmost enthusiasm, his eyes momentarily lingering on the wrap before they flickered over to you with a scheme glinting in their green depths. Just what the hell was he up to now? âWe gotta wet this baby real good, so why donâtcha stick out that tongue oâ yours for me, yeah? Lend an old man a helpinâ hand once in a while.â
He held the makeshift blunt tenderly between his thumbs and index fingers as he presented it in your direction with an annoyingly smug furnish to his handsome features.
Your eyes widened in surprise at his request. âYou do it,â you told him through a chuckle, pressing your index finger against his nearest hand to gently nudge the dissembled blunt back in his direction. âYouâre the pro of the fucking cancer sticks, so you show me how itâs done. Like you said.â
Ben cocked his head in slight disappointment, a smirk pitching up the corner of his lips as he withdrew the blunt with a light huff. âTo think youâre usually all I can do it myself, Ben, I donât need your help, Ben,â he mocked deeply, which caused your face to contort with a hint of offence.
âI donât sound like thââ
âYeah, you do,â he cut you short, the smirk on his lips playing into a full-blown grin as he drank in your affronted pout. âYou and your fuckinâ feminist high,â he scoffed, bringing the paper up to his lips. âNow, stuff it and watch, âcause Iâm only gonna show you onceâand I expect ya to nail it off the fuckinâ bat.â
You hitched a brow at his subtle threat. âOr what?â You challenged.
He left that question unansweredâverbally, at least. But he fixed you with an intense glare as his tongue slipped past his lips to drag a slow, accentuated line along the edge of the paper, and you knew that to be answer enough. A promiseâand hardly one of a good time when he was calling all the shots with the intent to punish you. Still, you felt your core jolt at that singular gesture, your thighs discreetly pressing together with the memory of that very movement that mustâve become etched into your folds by now. That teasing bastard, getting you all hot and bothered just for the sake of it.
When he reached the end of the jagged material, he drew the line back up one more time before his tongue retreated back to the concealment behind his lips. He lowered the concoction to the table, gaze still trained on you. Then, with a beckoning gesture of his chin, he said, âget over here.â
You obliged silently, quicklyâguided by your arousal more than your own will, if you were being honest. Your chair screeched in protest as you pushed yourself up from your seat and slipped around the circumference of the table towards Benâs seated frame. Youâd barely reached his side when he freed a hand to eagerly outstretch and receive you, his large palm snaking along the small of your back to hook around your waist. He pulled you into his lap, legs spread in a wide v to comfortably accommodate your frame onto his.
As you settled yourself onto his lap, you made a point to dramatically shimmy your ass into the crook of his legs, causing him to grunt as you ground yourself against his prominent manhood. His free hand snaked over your thigh to settle at the tender, inner skin with a warning squeeze, his lips coming to press against your ear.
âCareful, baby,â he murmured lowlyâa gruff sound that sent a jolt directly to your already-compromised core. And it was hard to ignore your arousal with the added stimulation of his stubbled jaw grating the sensitive skin of your cheek.
You turned your jaw partially, causing his soft lips to trace a seductive line along your cheekbone. âAlways am,â you murmured in return, a cheeky grin beaming through as your gaze flickered down to his lips. Those darn lips. A taste youâd never get sick of, despite your tendency to grow bored of things rather quickly. Maybe you were no better than Benâa shameless addict infatuated with the highs, only, your highs were being fondled by him.
For a moment, Ben entertained your play with a second of silence, and you were almost hopeful to feel his lips snag onto yours, but instead, they retreated from your jaw and left you in a state of hot disappointment.
âPay attention,â he ordered, removing the hand heâd burrowed at your thigh to frame your jaw firmly. He turned your head forward and downwards, forcing your attention onto the makeshift blunt gripped in his other hand. His thumb trailed to your lips, kneading the tender skin aimlessly before slipping his hand from your jaw entirely. âStick your tongue out.â
Obediently, you did as told, your tongue slipping through until you felt too ridiculous to go further.
âAtta girl,â he praised, your waist now straddled by both his arms as he held the corners of the makeshift blunt in his fingers and lifted it to your dangling tongue. âNow, I want you to lick it, just like I showed yaâand donât crap out on showinâ it a good time, yeah?â
You gave a small nod and leaned your head down to meet the paper with your tongue, starting at the left corner. When the tip of your tongue made contact with the sheet, you could feel the cool, lingering trace of Benâs saliva. It felt so primal, but you knew that he was enjoying every second of itâyou lapping up his taste like an eager mutt, so you decided to give him one hell of a show.
You pressed your tongue against the paper more firmly now, and you began to drag a slow, sensual line toward the other corner, making sure to deliver a quick flick over Benâs waiting thumbnail. He made a hald-amused, half-entertained noise, but waited patiently as you retraced the line back to the starting point.
Pulling back your tongue, you smacked your lips triumphantly. âAll wet now,â you said.
âBet you are,â he chuckled lazily, fingers moving to seal the paper and twist the ends into a reputable blunt. He brought the finished product up to your lips, urging the nozzle between them. âBe a good girl and hold onto that for me.â
You pulled your lips inward to deny the entrance of the blunt, turning your jaw to reject the offer. âNo, thanks,â you said, but Ben wasnât having it.
You felt his hand stroke up the curve of your thigh before forcing way beneath the hem of your shorts and underwear, where his fingers stroked a rough line through your folds. You gasped at the feel of his cool fingers playing at your hot core, and before you could process his foul play, his other hand was quick to push the fresh blunt between your parted lips.
âYou talk too fuckinâ much,â he murmured against your ear, delivering a harsh squeeze to your clit. Your lips tightened around the blunt and you moaned into the smoking stick, eyes screwing shut as your head collapsed back into the crook of his neck. He pressed a hasty kiss to your temple, and you knew that it was more of a branding than a gesture of adoration. You were his to cherish, exploit and discard, all at once.
âWhat, you gonna tell me you didnât see that cominâ?â he chuckled lowly, the mocking sound vibrating against the crown of your head. âBeen actinâ the brat this entire time, just hopinâ Iâll shut you the fuck up, huh? Yeah, I heard yaâloud and clear, baby.â
Your lips tightened around the blunt as Ben brutalised the pace of his fingers between your folds, vigorously toying with your clit like it were the worn strings of the guitar he couldnât seem to master the tuning of. Your lips tightened around the blunt as his finger prodded at just the right spot, an explosion of pleasure slinging your thighs into a weakened and sprawled mess. All control over your body seemed to retreat as you slumped further into his strong frame, which cocooned you like it were your last hope at survival. Oh, you were done for, all right.
âYou like that, huh?â Ben cooed into your ear, his free hand sliding beneath your tank to grab ahold of your breasts. He palmed both in a rough, careless motion, then settled on one with a teasing pinch to your nipple. The combined stimulation of his toying at both ends rendered you so speechless that you couldnât even salvage a coherent moan, so you laid there in complete arrest, succumbing fully to your boyfriendâs mean ministrations. âWhat, nothinâ to say now? Not even a fuckinâ please or thank you? I know chivalry died when I was buried on ice, but I didnât think the women had lost their manners, too.â
In all honesty, you could barely comprehend your boyfriendâs words through your numbed haze. Your vision slurred into darkness as your eyes fluttered closed, your saliva beginning to seep into the bluntâs contents as your lips clutched it like a lifeline. Ben released your breast, but the weaving of his fingers down below didnât stutter. You felt his free fingers graze both your temples in sequence, where his knuckle pushed back the foremost strands of hair that had slipped the keep of your ears. Your heart fluttered an inch at what you thought to be an intimate gesture���which he gifted very few and far between. But knowing the type of man Ben was should have clipped your wings of hope and had you grounded from the get-go.
Suddenly, his hand trailed through your hair and fastened through as many strands as he could collect. Then, with a smooth roll of his wrist, he twined it into a harsh grip, your neck arching at an angle you couldnât have achieved out of free-will. A weak protest slurred within your throat, which made Ben utter a sound half way between a low laugh and a scoffâthe sound so demeaning it flushed your cheeks red. His exploitation hurtâbut at the same time, it felt so good, so much so that your body did anything but pull away from his touch.
âNow this is a view I can get behindâyou, all pretty and practically fallinâ apart on my fingers,â Ben murmured, his head lowering to your ear so that the sharp button of his nose nuzzled at your temple. âFuck, I could take you right here, right now,â he continued sultrily. âYou want that, sweetheart? Want me to give you exactly what youâve been cravinâ all fuckinâ day? All you gotta do is ask. Nicely, you know, stroke my cock with your good-doer attitude. That achievable for a brat like you, hm?â
For all the questions asked, you couldnât offer one damn answerânot with your lips plugged by Benâs newest fix. You moved a hand to reach for the blunt, eager to pave way for the word that would lay your urges to rest for the night, but the hand heâd buried between your legs were quick to come up and seize your wrist in disapproval. A hot, disgruntled tut from Ben streamlined your ear, but all you could focus on was the sudden barrenness between your legs, a cold neglect left in the wake of his hand.
You werenât afforded the opportunity to mourn that loss for long before he had both your palms pinned flat onto the table in front of you, the hand in your hair tugging further so that your upper body became suspended within a ruthless game of tug and war. Only, the two contestantsâboth his handsâwere playing for the same team. Benâs. The advantage was far from yours.
âDirty stunt,â he hummed almost admirably, his nose tracing your jaw to place a single, devouring kiss over the arch of your neck. You felt the way his lips lapped at your skin in a large motion, like he craved to garner every inch of you in that single touch. He solidified that point with a harsh nibble, the sort that would pucker your skin for a good few minutes, before he brought himself back to your ear. âYou donât get to use your words for this, baby. Your right to an opinion has been worn out for the day, and quite frankly, Iâve had enough of all your fuckinâ chitchat. You wanna get fucked, youâre gonna show me just how much yâwant it,â he husked with a dramatic pause, then added in a low murmur, âwith your body. Got that?â
With your head practically immobilised by his grip, you echoed a muffled mhm. Your response seemed to be satisfactory enough because he relented his holdâjust enough to relieve your pipes so that breathing came with a little more ease.
âAtta girl. Itâs gets my dick salutinâ when youâre all obedient,â he praised. His claim was firmly backed by the bulge you felt growing beneath you. It pressed between your thighs like a brash beckoning, and it was enough to cause all the heat that had dissipated between your folds to re-emerge in full force. âWell? The hell you waitinâ for?â He asked in a tone a lot louderâand firmerâthis time around.
You pushed out a clueless noise, which made Ben shift a thigh beneath you. Suddenly, the bulk of his leg was hoisted up between your own, the blunt force striking your core at just the right angle that sent a jolt up your body. You gasped a breathless sound into the blunt, your teeth burrowing into the softening paper, and your eyes screwed shut with the pleasure currently coursing your entire being.
âGet that body oâ yours movinâ, or we can call it a disappointinâ night,â he instructed. God, you couldnât come up short after all youâd endured thus far, so instinctually, your hips began to roll against his thigh at a jagged pace, seeking out the only stimulation you could manage in your stilted position. âYeah, thatâs it,â he cooed. âAll yours for the takinâ, if youâll hold out long enough to see fuckinâ rainbows. A lot like beinâ on a high, ainât it? Got my own liâl addict in the makinâ.â
He was right. Actually, you thought this felt a whole lot greater than sniffing a line that would simultaneously have you losing your sanity for a few hours. Desperate whimpers began to stew in your chest, polished with so much passion that the sounds felt saturated, almost animated. And Ben, he was devouring every second of it. You couldnât glimpse enough of his face to say that, but going off of everything you knew about him, and how mean he liked to get with you, you absolutely knew that you were something akin to his own personal heaven right about now. Oh, heâd forsake every personal belief to follow the religion that was youâyour undoing.
Almost as though your body had grown frustrated with all the prolonged teasing, your high came on at a rapid pace that made you chest heave in desperation. You felt the arousal bundle into a tightly-knit ball, just yearning to be yanked at by the singular thread that would make it come undone. But the satisfaction was plucked out of reach within seconds when Ben released the grip on your hair to grab at your thigh, forcing your hips to still against his leg. And just like that, the fire within was snuffed out.
Your lips fell loose in exhaustion, the blunt youâd been so loyal to finally making an escape and toppling into your lap. âBen,â you pushed out frailly, the disappointment heavy on your brows.
âThe nerve oâ you,â Ben scoffed, utterly dismissive of your feeble protest. He released your thigh to dip into your lap, and shortly after, he pulled up with the blunt in clutch, wasting no time in pressing it back between your lips. You fumbled with the paper for a few seconds before you finally took it in, but you knew your boyfriend would have something to show for your disobedience. âYeah, you are a brat,â he said, the hand pinning your wrists suddenly tightening as he pulled your arms to one side, his other hand hooking around your inner thigh.
In one large and effortless motion, he managed to sling you over his lap, releasing your wrists so that you were able to grasp the legs of his chair for support. You clutched the blunt between your lips a little tighter, fighting the villainous pull of gravity, and stifled a moan at the sudden spank that struck the curves of your ass. The aftermath of that contact had your body contracted with a mixture of shock and painful arousal, air blowing from your nostrils like harsh gusts.
âFuckinâ quiverinâ already?â He chuckled, his large palm smoothing up the fabric of your shorts until you felt every inch of your ass dimple under the cool air of the room. You felt utterly exposed. âBaby, Iâm just gettinâ started with you.â
Oh, you were so fucked.
His palm came down for another assault, this time louder than the last. The raw contact echoed through the apartment, narcissistically suffocating the whimper that rattled your chest. Tears began to hoard along the rims of your eyes, but you blinked enough to scatter the moisture. You didnât need to give him another kick out of thisâsome lingering stubbornness wouldnât allow it.
âFuck, all that noise oâ yours is makinâ me lose count,â Ben scoffed. He rubbed soothing circles over your aching skin, which no doubt glowered an angry red that should have made your boyfriend feel some ounce of sympathy. But then the next words left his mouth, and you knew then that the Supe had no concept of remorse. âGuess I gotta start right at the beginning.â
You braved yourself against the rest of his spanks, your legs drawing together more and more with each touchânot from a place of pain, but from hot, embarrassing enjoyment. The slick within your folds was hard to ignore now, and it seemed to have snagged Benâs attention because he let up on the harsh punishment, his fingers finding way beneath your shorts and drenched undies. You felt his fingers play at your slick, dragging a line all the way down to your yearning entrance.
âItâs a damn oil slick up in here,â he chuckled, his thumb teasing circles at your hypersensitive clit. âWhaddya say I give her some love, hm?â His finger dipped an inch into your entrance, as if offering a measly taste of his proposal. You rocked your hips back into him as a reply, urgently seeking out the length of his fingers. He gave a low chuckle, and to your shock, actually indulged your plea. Maybe it was your reward for finally playing by his rules.
You werenât going to fucking question it.
Your back arched by instinct as you felt his fingers prowl into your entrance, your hands clutching the wooden legs of his chair as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. The full force of multiple of his fingers should have coaxed forward some fleeting sense of pain, but youâd been so incredibly aroused for so incredibly long that your entrance welcomed him in like an open-house party. He pumped into you as deep as he could, an appreciative grunt leaving his lips as he revelled in your velvety warmth. His other hand came to wrap around the front of your neck, offering some much needed support as your strength began to collapse with each pump of his fingers.
Your whimpers became more frequent and dishevelled as he picked up the pace, his fingers curling at just the right angle. Every. Fucking. Time. Ben knew how to do the job wellâa tactic that had you coming back time and time again, begging for more.
âThatâs it, baby, youâre doinâ so good fâme,â he husked out, his own voice slightly abraded by exertion. The subtle breathlessness woven through his words spurred you on even further, making you feel some type of special with the knowledge that he was giving you his all. Just to see you break. Just so that he could put you back together with cherishing kisses.
It only took a few more pumps of his fingers to have your eyes clenching in wait, your lips throttling the blunt as his fingers curled right into your blooming bundle of pleasure. And then he struck it head on, causing an explosion of colour to invade your vision. For a few seconds, you couldnât comprehend anything beyond your own ragged breaths, your ears ringing with the overwhelming aftermath of your high. You felt your juices trickle from your entrance, and you heard the squelching as Ben slowly retreated from your entrance.
âHoly fuckinâ shit,â he chuckled with a minuscule, congratulatory pat to your ass. âThat was one oâ your best runs yet. Think ya can handle one more round?â Ben murmured, releasing your neck to rub a soothing line down your back. You didnât honestly think you could, and you felt the way every inch of your body ached in an answering protest, but something else tugged your chin into that subtle permission, and then the Supe had you hoisted up in his arms bridal style as he carried you to the bed.
He laid you onto the mattress rather gently, but the caution was instantly discarded as he flipped you over and tugged your hips sky-high. His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts and undies, and he couldnât have yanked them over the curves of your ass at a faster pace. Your garments were tossed to some other corner of the room, followed by the rustle of fabric as Ben freed his stoic erection. You heard him huff a breath of relief, and you glanced over your shoulder in time to see him whisk across his shaft with a hasty pump.
You met his eye patiently, making a point to pout around the blunt so that he couldnât miss the visual image of your dedication to this wretched thing. It made him smirk with satisfaction, a hand coming forward to hook around your pelvis and tug you back an inch. You grunted at the rough yank, turning your head forward as you settled yourself into your folded arms. You felt his tip nestle between your ass before dipping down to glide with ease into your slicked entrance. Both his hands took up firm grip at your pelvis, his large palms fanning across your navel as he pummelled into you with a guttural noise.
âFuck,â he spat, his length retreating only to return with a force more brutal than a last. His hands shifted across your ass, delivering a hard spank before they slunk up to the small of your back. There, he pushed your stomach into the mattress, and you burrowed further into the material with every possessive thrust of his hips. âYouâre just the fuckinâ release I needed after this shitty dayâand god, you never disappoint,â he breathed out.
You whimpered in response, pressing your forehead into the sheets as your fingers curled into the bedding. God, this man was overstimulatingâhe seemed to forget that your frail body was no match for his super-abled one. Or, he simply revelled in that fact. Either way, you were done for.
The bluntâs body quirked against your lips as you practically smothered it against the mattress, but you could hardly be arsed about that now. Benâs figure came to hover over you, his clothed chest pressing into your back. His hands came up beside your head, frantically searching for yours, and once he found them, his fingers threaded between yours. He held you firmly as he spread your hands out in front of you, trapping you below him as he continued to drive you into the bed. The worn bed frame was creaking so loud that it was almost absurd, and you half expected one of the neighbours to blare a shut the hell up from the top of their lungs. But the only noises to be heard were the gruff moans spewing from Benâs lips, and your own muffled whining.
The mattress wasnât anything as fancy as memory foam, but you were sure that by nowâwith how brutalised Benâs pace within you wasâthat the mattress would never forget. You supposed you both had that in common.
ââââââââââââââââââââââ
a/n â iâm not gonna lie, i was starting to think this piece would NEVER see the light of day good gawd i think i have commitment issues. anyhoo, if you are a pro at making blunts, mind your business! đ i did a quick google search and rolled with it (pun unintended), so if somethingâs inaccurate you can blame google pls and ty LMAO. iâm just a non smoker girly trying to bring the drug-addled fantasies of loving soldier boy to life, as best as i possibly and very limitedly can. if this fic traumatised you im sorry (also youâre welcome). yâall know the drill, itâs 2 amâif there are typos; no thereâs not.
this fic now has a complementary c.ai bot .á
thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated ᥣđŠŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛
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đ i want it â h.js x fem! reader
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4389b9e7e0506b13b03800397207d5ec/3edbc0b6bee7de2f-f8/s540x810/464676b3efa6f4839a8b0dab000241608a45f355.jpg)
part one â part two
pairing: han jisung x inexperienced virgin! reader genre: smut warnings: swearing â slight corruption kink â needy han â slight perv!han â sorta dubcon â reader is called âbabyâ (several times) & âmy girlâ (once) â spit kink â non penetrative sex â munch jisung â dialogue heavy wc: 707 synopsis: you both promised to take it slow, but jisung struggles to keep his word, and you certainly don't mind. author's note: been thinking about this for days this is so incredibly self indulgent its not funny. this is not beta read. this is barely proofread. i'm just a whore. the first 870 or so of yall saw a slightly different version than everyone else onward. i made some slight changes that needed to be reworked for clarity. and for those of you interested, part 2 is linked above!
Š dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.
âfuck, âm sorry, baby.â jisung whines into your neck as he ruts his cock against your wet panties. heâs got one hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. youâve both soaked your panties, his precum and the wetness from your pussy make it almost uncomfortably sticky.
âgod, âm so fuckinâ... gross.â he rambles, pulling himself up to spit on his cock. he watches it slide off the side of his tip and down your ass. âmaking a mess of your poor pussy just to get myself off.â
âhannieâŚâ your moan has him rolling his eyes back. you canât remember how you ended up beneath him, just that you didnât want it to stop yet. It wasnât enough. and yet you were trying to find it in you to tell him to slow down, itâs what you wanted after all. to take it slow, wait until âthe right timeâ for your first time with jisung. that went out the window the moment he started feeling you up today.
âi know⌠said i'd keep my pretty girl all pure for a little longer.â
but jisungâs cock throbs at the sight of you all defiled. your hair is a mess from when he shoved you down on the bed and had his hands all up in it when he kissed you earlier. your makeup is smudged, mascara messy from the way tears well up in your eyes and spill when his cockhead rubs against your clit just right. your lipstick blurs around your lips from the sloppy kisses you shared. he begged you not to wear a bra this morning when you got dressed, it made your tits even easier for him to access. all he had to do was pull down your little tank top and they were all his. your skirt is pushed up, soft tummy peeking out. and your pussy, so wet for him already and heâs still one layer away.Â
âlook at you⌠so nasty fâme.â
âcan i take off your panties? please, baby?â jisung stops rutting against your clothed pussy and gives a couple hard taps against your clit. âknow itâs dirty, baby. but itâll feel good, okay?â
all you want at this point is to feel goodâscrew everything elseâso you nod and lift your hips so he can slide your panties off your legs.
You try to shut your legs but jisung is quicker. both of his hands keep your thighs open. âlet me see that pretty pussy, donât hide it from me.â heâs quick to spit on it again, and this time you canât help the high pitched moan that escapes your lips.Â
âdid your exes ever spit on it, baby?â
you shake your head, hands coming to cover your flushed face. nobodyâs ever touched you like jisung has. you've kissed your exes, dry humped, even came from it too. but jisung's the only one who's touched you so intimately, and a part of him hopes it stays that way.
âlike it?â he asks and you donât respond. is it wrong to say you liked it? itâs gross, you think. itâs so so gross⌠but is it wrong?
warm saliva hits your pussy again, this time you can feel jisungâs breath on you.Â
âdo you like it when i spit on your pussy, baby?â
â... yesâŚâ you respond, and finally pry your arms away from your face. jisungâs laying down on the bed, hands pressed against your thighs to keep them open. he canât decide what's a sweeter sight, your glistening pussy or your wide eyes. for now, his eyes lock with yours.
âfuckâŚâ jisung whispers. his eyes fall back to your pussy with a smile. he licks his lips and lets his head fall against the blankets.
âji?â you reach for his hand, and as soon as he feels your hand on his heâs grasping it, and raising his head up to kiss your knuckles.Â
âi know you wanna take it slow⌠but please, please can i eat you out, baby? âs all i want.â
jisung agreed to take it slow, but he's got you half dressed and soaking your bed. maybe you should be mad, but god, the pleasure jisung was giving you was addicting. you werenât afraid to give yourself away to him at this point.
âi want it.â you nod, and jisung kisses your hand again.
âgotta give my girl what she wants then, yeah?â
Š dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.
#dollracha#han smut#jisung smut#han jisung smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids x reader smut#skz x reader smut#han x reader#han jisung x reader
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can you do a story where hotch accidentally calls Y/N by her middle name and the rest of the bau are like "đď¸đđď¸ who's (insert name)?" and then a cute or fluffy moment happens where Y/N's like "oh yeah only hotch calls me that" PLS PLS PLSSSS
SECRET NICKNAMES - A.H
a/n: the emojis are so accurate im crying you know thatâs exactly how they reacted đ but loved loved loved writing this one. slightly self indulgent because my middle name is grace <3
masterlist
pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader
warnings: just sticky sweet fluff & morgan being an instigator but whatâs new!!
wc: 0.9k
It had been a long day. The conference room was a mess. It kind of resembled a battlefield of ideas and failed theories. Evidence photos lay in uneven stacks, some forgotten at the edges of the table while others remained underlined with question marks and red ink. The faint scratch of a pen and the occasional sigh were the only sounds. It was late, and exhaustion was beginning to creep in. Eyes drooped, postures sagged, but no one had yet dared to suggest calling it a night yet.Â
You leaned back slowly, your chair tilting just enough to let you stretch your arms above your head. The weariness in your muscles felt almost tangible, meshing into every joint like a weight you let go of. Across from you, Hotch stood still as a statue, his arms crossed and gaze cutting through the evidence board.
"Alright, enough for tonight," he finally said firmly. "We'll reconvene tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. sharp."
The team didn't need to be told twice, practically jumping to their feet. Papers were scooped up, pens clicked shut, and chairs scraped back as everyone made their way out. But before you could slip away, Hotch's voice rang out, cutting cleanly through the room.
"Grace, can I see you for a moment?"
The team froze mid-movement. Morgan glanced over one shoulder, one brow raised, while Garciaâs head popped up from where she was stacking papers, lips parting in confusion. Reid, already halfway to the door, paused and turned, tilting his head like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didnât have all the pieces to.
JJ blinked, mouth âGrace?â to herself, clearly trying to place the name.
Emily squinted slightly before giving voice to what everyone was thinking. âWhoâs Grace?â
You blinked, your brain scrambling for an explanation as your eyes darted to Hotch, who seemed oblivious to the chaos he had just cause. Typical man.
Clearing your throat, you forced a sheepish smile.
âThat would be me,â you admitted, lifting a hand awkwardly. âGrace is my middle name. Surprise!â
The room remained suspiciously quiet, and you could practically feel the questions they all were about to voice.
âHotch calls me that sometimes,â you added quickly, somehow able to keep your voice semi-light despite the burn in your cheeks. âItâs not a big deal.â
âOh, this is interesting,â Morgan said, leisurely sinking back into his chair with folded arms.
JJ squinted. âIs this some sort of secret nickname situation?â
Emily raised a brow. âDoes this happen often? Hotch calling you Grace?â
âSo, Grace,â Morgan drawled, clearly enjoying himself. âCare to explain why Hotch gets to call you that? Special privileges orâ,â
âDonât finish that sentence,â you cut in, your voice cracked and it was unfortunately too loud to come off as anything but defensive. âLike I said, itâs not a big deal. He justâhe just does sometimes, okay?â
âOh itâs a big deal,â Garcia cut in dramatically. âWhat else donât we know about you two?â
âAlright, enough.â Hotch cut in finally, shaking his head. âI told you all to go home. So go.â
Morgan made it halfway to the door before turning back.
âYâknow Hotch, if you wanted us out so bad, you couldâve just said it earlier. No need for the theatrics. We get itââGraceâ needs your undivided attention.â
Garcia gasped. âMorgan, you canât just say that!â
But the damage was done, and the team left in a flurry of giggles and teasing comments, leaving you standing there, flustered and glaring at Hotch.
The second the door closed, you whirled around and smacked his shoulder.
âWhat was that for?â
âYou know what that was for,â you said, crossing your arms. âCalling me Grace in front of them? Do you want me to be interrogated?â
His faint smile broke through. âIt wasnât intentional.
You shot him another glare which only served to turn that smile of his into a full blown laugh.
âIâm sorry, honey,â he said, corners of his eyes crinkling. âI wasnât thinkingâitâs the sleep deprevation.â
Before you could respond, he reached out, gently grabbing your face and smooshing your cheeks together. You were sure you resembled a fish, brows drawn, trying to remain scowling at him, but the position made it hard.
âTruce?â he murmured, leaning down to kiss you.
Your resolve crumbled the second his lips touched yours (It always did). The warmth of his touch practically seemed into your skin, and your muscles melted against him like butter in the sun. When he pulled back you stared up at him, dazed and breathless, trying to remember why you were mad.
âThat wasâ,â You cleared your throat, fighting to ridiculous smile threatening to appear. âYou canât just do that to avoid getting in trouble.â
âDid it work?â
You huffed, crossing your arms. âIâll think about it.â
You narrowed your eyes at him, pretending to weigh your options with the seriousness of someone deciding on a life-or-death matter.
âAlright,â you said slowly, drawing out each word. âIâve thought about it.â
Grasping the lapels of his suit jacket, you pulled him down to you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that left no room for argument. When you pulled back, his smirk was still in place but his eyes were softer now and filled with something you couldnât quite place.
âBut donât think this gets you off the hook next time.â
He chuckled. âNoted.â
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#criminal minds fluff#Aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x fem reader#criminal minds fic
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Hotch request w Jack and new baby!!! Coming back from the hospital and reader is in bed with new baby and Jack while Aaron is in another part of the house (maybe making food in the kitchen) and reader starts crying because sheâs in pain and jack is all concerned and sweet and goes to get Aaron??
thank you for requesting, sorry I messed up where everyone was! fem, 1.3k
âHeâs gonna stab him!âÂ
You blink from the spot youâd been staring at, pain momentarily forgotten. âWhat! Whereâd you learn that word?â you ask in surprise.Â
Jack leans back against his big velvet pillow, blue with silver stars, looking as though heâs in the lap of luxury. âAt school.âÂ
The cartoon mouse on the TV raises his fencing sword high in the air.Â
âHeâs not stabbing anyone, theyâre fencing,â you say, reaching for his hand to hold. âStabbing⌠thatâs pretty scary. How did that make you feel?âÂ
âWell, Iâm not gonna stab anyone,â Jack says.Â
Heâs confused that youâre making a fuss, just old enough to realise youâre poking around for his feelings. You worry lately that you arenât paying him enough attention because of his new brother, and the word stab isnât exactly age appropriate.Â
But maybe thatâs what the boys his age are talking about? You frown more, your hand slipping along his arm to curl behind him. You pull him toward you. âCome on, handsome. Cuddle me.âÂ
Youâre too sore to move, so Jack has to come to you. He crawls across the couch until his arms can wrap around you and his cheek can rest against your chest. Stab is an apt word for the feeling in your stomach. Jackâs arm squeezes at you and the pain worsens, so you move it up your front and curl your arm around him.Â
âIs it a bad word?â he asks.Â
âNo, itâs just like hit or slap, I guess. And I know youâre not gonna do any of that to anyone. Youâre too gentle.âÂ
âGentle is a good word.âÂ
âYeah.â You kiss his forehead, a moment of self indulgence. You love your stepson, and he is oh so kissable. âOh no, look at the mouse.âÂ
Charlie sleeps in his swing seat, the soft whirring of its constant motion almost as comforting as the sound of his soft breaths. You watch him for a while, Jack climbing up at your side to press his face to your neck, leg on your thigh, slowly pressing against the tenderness that is your abdomen. âUh, Jack,â you breathe, trying to pick him up, âyouâre gonna have to climb off of me, my tummy hurts too much.âÂ
âSorry,â he says quickly, slipping off of you and onto the couch cushion. His foot kicks out as he rights himself, a jamming of his toes against the pain like a spike.Â
You take a deep breath. Ouch.Â
âItâs okay,â you say, groaning softly as the pain thrums, hand on your stomach as though your touch can make it stop, âjust a tummy ache. Iâ Iâm okay.âÂ
âYou got little tears?â he says, his voice going wobbly. You try to blink away tears and end up with a straggler curving down the slope of your cheek. âIâll go get dad!âÂ
âJack, Iâm okay,â you say.Â
Too late. Jack scrambles from the couch and away from you, up the stairs to find his father. Youâre not sure what Aaronâs up to, heâd only said, âIâll be right back,â twenty minutes ago. Youâd guessed laundry.Â
Youâre glad Jackâs run upstairs when you realise the pain isnât going away. Itâs not bad, not half as bad as your contractions had been, but the whole labour process has sapped you, and you feel weak as a willow branch in bad weather. You shift heavily onto one leg and cross them, uncross them when the pain spikes again, letting out a weird and breathless whine as it turns to a full blown cramp.Â
Jack returns with Aaron in tow. His hair is dripping wet, soap suds on his neck and his shirt stuck to his chest. Heâs rushed out of the shower to see you.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â he asks as he rounds the couch. âJack told me youâre not feeling well.âÂ
You hold your arms out for a hug. He doesnât falter, simply does as you want, his hair wringing wet and dripping onto your shoulder as he gathers you in his arms.Â
You hold onto him like a lifeline. The cramp curls, and tightens, has you seizing up against him.Â
âWhat is it?â he asks softly. âStomach pains again?âÂ
The nurse said itâs your uterus shrinking. Whatever it is, itâs sudden agony. You shudder into Aaronâs shoulder until the pain pangs and fades, leaving your stomach a tense mess. It hurts to move, so you stay clinging to your husband and let him hover over you.Â
âAre you okay?â Jack asks.
You sniff.Â
Aaron pulls away to take your face into his hands. He holds you with care, his thumbs under your jaw, index fingers running diagonally under each eye, tips at your brows. Just a stolen few seconds for him to check you over. No tears to be wiped away.Â
âStill hurting?âÂ
You shake your head, eyebrows pulled down in a bad frown.Â
âOkay. Alright. Motrin?â he asks.Â
âNo,â you whisper, âcan you just stay here?âÂ
Jack says your name.Â
You peek past Aaronâs body. âJack, sorry.âÂ
âAre you okay now?âÂ
You grimace, âIâm gonna be fine, it just hurts sometimes and I didnât have any medicine today. Thatâs all. Sorry, I scared you.âÂ
âYou didnât scare me,â he denies.Â
You canât help smiling, then. âOkay, I didnât. Thanks for getting dad for me.âÂ
âHeâs our hero,â Aaron says. He sits down beside you carefully, his voice quiet and his hand gentle as he holds your thigh. âIâm glad he did.âÂ
Jack climbs into his dadâs lap. Aaron wraps an arm around him, the other at your side, fingers tapping at you.Â
You rub your forehead. Tip your head back and take a deep breath.Â
âJack,â you whisper, breathing out, âIâm sorry if I startled you. It doesnât hurt anymore.âÂ
âIt wasnât scary, I said that already.âÂ
âOh, you did?â Aaron teases.Â
âIt was okay, I just donât want you to hurt.âÂ
âOnly baby pains,â you say.Â
For a few minutes, you and your small family sit there in silence. Aaron works a hand behind your back to hug you, Jack snuggles into his chest, and Charlie stirs in his swing seat. The quiet calms him, and he goes back to his soft snoring seconds later.Â
âIâm sorry about your shower,â you whisper.Â
âItâs okay. Iâm sorry about my baby,â Aaron whispers back, drawing circles into your lower back, âhe didnât mean to chew you up.âÂ
âUgh, I know.âÂ
Jack raises his nose. âWhat? Chew? Do babies bite?âÂ
âItâs an expression, babe.âÂ
âOh.â He looks at his baby brother with suspicion anyways. âHe doesnât even have teeth?âÂ
âBuddy, itâs just a joke,â Aaron says, laughing as Jack slips out of his lap to go and look at Charlie in the seat.Â
âMaybe he did have teeth,â you say.Â
Aaron ushers you toward him, rests his cheek on your forehead. âItâll feel better soon. You need to rest, thatâs all.âÂ
âYour hair is so wet.âÂ
âI was in the shower.âÂ
âSorryâŚâÂ
âDonât be,â he says. âDonât be.âÂ
You reach up to tousle his wet hair. âMiss showering with you.âÂ
âWe showered last night.âÂ
âNo, I stood there and you helped me wash my back, thatâs not the same.âÂ
âWell, I enjoyed it.âÂ
âI bet you did.âÂ
Your fondness attracts many, many kisses, his nose nuzzling your cheek. You settle under the weight of him and watch Jack where he frowns at Charlie, big brown eyes squinted, waiting for a show of teeth that wonât happen. Aaron brings a hand to your tense stomach, waiting for you to lean back before he begins massaging the tensed muscle there with a slowness that borders unmoving.Â
âTell me if it hurts too much,â he says.Â
âYou can go finish your shower.âÂ
âI was finished. Mâgonna start pressing in, okay?âÂ
You wince as Aaron begins, but slowly, slowly, the tenseness from your cramp softens. It still hurts, but he makes it manageable. Jack delivered your rescuer, and your rescuer loves a soft touch.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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1:37AM : BAROLO ! - (nsfw)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6ae86b6b1f903da00365dadfa36bf93c/c8dd6c9bd24ba415-be/s540x810/9aa07e7beae543760aedcb854934a04d4743f867.jpg)
summary. you had been avoiding your ceo as best as you could after the intimate drunk meeting you had shared, so what do you do now when you both are forced on a business trip?
notes. second chapter! hope y'all enjoyđˇâśđ
warnings/includes. (3.3k words / smut!) non idol! ceo! jungkook x f! employee! reader, smoking (reader's first time), masturbation heavely implied, fingering, giving m. head, pussy eating, drunk!!!, tad bit of angst at end
"we didn't sleep together, you fell asleep on my coach, i wasn't going to take advantage of you"
his words from a few days ago remain firmly in your head. you had done so good at avoiding him: taking the long way to not walk by his office, instantly running off to god knows where when you saw him - only for the very man you've been dodging so well, to ask you to go on a business trip to milan.
the flight was quiet.
the only thing that was hearable was the sound of a lighter getting light up every hour or so. he smoked.
it was his private jet after all, you didn't blame him. your mind trails off to your ex once more, you had thought you had managed to get rid of him in your mind completely, but he always managed to sneak back in.
he resented smoking, called smokers 'self-indulged assholes' if they did it in public. he was the kind of man who thought the world revolved around sheerly him, to think that another person would calmly invade said-world with a bit of smoke, was beyond unforgivable for him.
you glance towards jungkook, taking in the calm assurance in his eyes as he takes another slow puff. he seemingly notices your stare, his tone soothing, "do you want one?"
you physically feel your ex trying to pull the hand you're reaching out to take what jungkook offered, back. but he doesn't succeed, you win. you had never smoked before, you go based of what you've seen in pop culture. lightning, drag, wasn't it?
you can visably see jungkook fighting a smile while he reaches out for the cig, hanging it between his very own lips as he leans forward in his seat, one of his hands gently guiding your fingers so the cigarette was now in between your own plush lips
you slowly breathe, the smoke stinging your lungs and making you cough. he lets out a tsk, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as he looks at you from under his eyelashes, "inhale deeper," the voice not mad, more like gentle scolding.
the hotel room was mostly quiet, besides the soft hum of the AC and the faint noises of the dazzling city through the open window. you both had shared a few more words earlier, incrediably vague, until you parted ways to your respective rooms.
you couldn't quite fall asleep, you blamed it on loud milan when you in reality couldn't stop thinking about his fingers which had been on your lips, your fingers trace over them, imagining his tattoed ones doing just that. you had to ask him what the history behind those was, next time. next time?
your hands wander to your tits, where his eyes had lingered more then once if your memory didn't fail you. and you imagine his hand wrapping around yours, guiding you.
"i want you," the words you had whispered against his mouth replay in your head multiple times.
just as your fingers trailed further, there was an abrupt knock on the door. you glance at your phone: it's 1:37 a.m.
as you open the door you see a image of your boss, you haven't quite seen yet. jungkooks hair is visabily messed up, his shirt loose around the neckline. "couldn't sleep," he mumbles, his tone sounding almost like an confession, he shouldn't say, "do you want to take a walk with me?"
you give in, you don't want to give much thought into how weird it was for a boss to ask his employee out on a walk at almost 2am.
the uber drops you off at a 24hr shop which seemed out of part for the milan you've seen so far (through car windows)
"if you want a snack or a smoke or something," he looks at you, "and then we walk"
you don't know what prompts you to say, "wine" with so much confidence but you do regardless. please make me feel like that night, i want you the words linger in your head shortly, words you'd never say out loud.
if he's surprised he didn't show it, moreover he looked satisfied, pleased with your answer. and that's exactly what you liked about jungkook: he knew how to read the room. did he hear you touch yourself? maybe. did he mention it? no.
he leads you deeper into the store, towards the back where there were rows of alcoholic beverages, the lights dim. he moves to stand behind you, his chest almost touching your back, as he reaches to grab a bottle of barolo from a high shelf.
the music in the background is some indie tune, you had heard before, you nod your head along to the sound absentmindedly.
you can see him smile at the corner of your eye, not a smile that was mocking or finding something funny, more filled with general admiration.
"you like this song?" he asks, his voice quiet, nearly a whisper almost as if it was a secret while he placed the bottle down to the cashiers table, pulling out his card, black.
you nod with a genuine smile.
you end up settling down on a bench in a nearby park, opening the bottle. you sit crosslegged, looking over the park at night, genuinely intrested, "so what music do you like?"
"i like...indie stuff, mostly," jungkook responds, turning his head to look at you, the light night breeze running over his hair, "but i have a soft spot for a few italian punk rock songs from when i was younger."
"ever seen any of them live?" you ask, taking a sip from the bottle, "y'know you are in milan after all"
he can firmly smell your perfume. the same one that had stuck to his coach for days which made it simply unbearable to sit on it, without thinking about you.
jungkook laughs, the sound soft, almost as if it wasn't entirely voluntary. he runs a hand through his hair, the ends just falling back into his face. "no," he says, tilting his head back a little, "i haven't."
"maybe you should," you respond casually. you don't know why you were giving such tips to a business man with a multi-million empire to his knees. did he even have time to go to silly little concerts? what kind of life did he live?
he laughs again, you loved the sweet sound of it, "maybe i should," raising the bottle to drink once more, "would you go with me?"
you reach out to take another large sip, you need some more alcohol in your system to answer him, "maybe"
he watches you intently as you reach for the bottle again, his eyes flickering to your throat as you tilt your head back to drink.
"maybe," he says again, smiling to himself, "that's so vague of you, maybe."
handing the bottle back to you, repeating, "maybe," his voice teasing.
you repeat the same word once more as you both laugh. you can feel the alcohol begin to warm you from the inside, the feeling of slight dizziness setting in.
meanwhile he's looking at you, his eyes wandering over your face, resting on your mouth, the way your lips are tinted red from drinking the wine.
"why are you looking at me like that?" you mutter though your tone grazed on something reminding a joke. stupid fucking question.
jungkook's smile remains if not widening while he moves closer, "how am i looking at you?"
"like you want to fuck me," you mumble, chuckling at your words like it was a ridiciulous thought on it's own.
"does that bother you," he whispers, his voice low, his words just a little bit slurred from the alcohol, "knowing i want you like that."
you raise your eyebrows, taking another sip, "so you're admitting it?"
jungkook raises his eyebrows, copying your movement, a lazy, almost cocky smile on his face. he grabs the bottle from your hand, raising it to his lips, drinking a mouthful of wine, holding eye contact with you as he does. and you're convinced he wants to see you dead.
he hands the bottle back to you, his smile still present on is face, "yes," he says, his voice low, the sounds almost like a soft moan, "I'm admitting it."
"you're actually so sexy when you're like this," you respond, clearly just as intoxicated as he was. 'like this' when you are not scolding me for not bringing the right documents, is the part you leave out.
he laughs, louder if that wasn't the alcohol talking. "sexy when I'm drunk," he teases, his words slurred, "is that it?"
"maybe," you babble which just makes the both of you giggle again.
he takes the bottle out of your hand, setting it down on the ground, the empty glass making a small clinking sound as it hits the concrete.
"you're drunk," he says, his words still a little slurred, the sound teasing, "i think you need to shut up."
you grin at this man's sheer audacity, replying, "i think you need to learn how to take a compliment properly"
jungkook just moves closer, not responding for a few seconds until you were so close that your noses touched, "you like compliments?"
he practically makes you lie down on that damn uncomfortable bench, "you want me to tell you how sexy you are? cause i will"
"i won't fuck you on a bench, kook"
"i never get to be just kook," he mumbles, something reminding a pout on his face, an adorable sight. "i'm always boss, or sir."
you don't know how to respond, you want him to be kook to you but that is something that is practically out of your control. so you moan.
you can hear jungkook say something â something about the city, something aboout the driver's taste of music? the words slip through your head as soon as they are said and all you manage to do is laugh.
the car feels to fast, milan is way to blurry and for a second you seriously ask yourself if you had taken any drugs. jungkooks hand slides over your thigh as you tilt your head, letting out a breathy chuckle.
the chuckle turns into a suppressed moan as his fingers brush over your underwear. you can barerly think straight, dare tell him to stop though you wouldn't even want to, even if you could.
you nod or at least try to; you didn't know why in the first place, itâs hard to tell if your head is moving or if youâre just imagining it. your eyes are half-closed, barely able to focus on his face, but you can feel his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties, brushing against your slick, aching core. "you're so wet f' me"
you make a mental note to rate the uber driver five stars later, because of the sheer noises that man had to hear. you were incrediably grateful for the music covered it up at least a bit.
just as you were about to cum, the car came to a sharp stop. the poor driver's voice pulls you back to reality, announcing you've arrived to the hotel.
jungkook brings his juiced fingers to his lips, licking them with a small 'pop' noise. for a second you actually consider pushing him onto the dirty ground in front of the hotel and fucking him right then but you regain compusure through a groan.
you both stumble through the lobby if you saw it properly one of the large clocks showed it was 2:51am but there was a big chance that your eyes were fooling you.
he practically pushes you towards the elevator as the door closes, jungkook looks adorably confused at all the various floor buttons, his finger unsurerly moving from one to the other.
"don't think," you pull him closer by his shirt while jungkook's hands instantly craddle your face, no thoughts in his head. you press as many random buttons as you could while he presses his lips onto yours.
his hands get tangled in your hair, he pulls you even closer as if he wants to breathe your soul in, moaning into your mouth.
the elevator opens with a little 'ding' and you have to look around to see if it's the right floor, you had surprisingly gotten lucky. the hallway lights automatically turn on at your movement, they feel way to bright.
you both reach the door of his room as he fumbles with they keycard, trying to slide it into the lock, cursing under his breath whilst you laugh. the door refuses to open which just makes him release a giggle, cute very untypical, "how do these even work"
logicaly he should be a man who has opened multiple hotel doors like this before but it was most certaintly the alcohol in his system that made everything a bit to fuzzy to handle. jungkook finally manages to slide the card into the door, the light turning green with a small click.
he pulls you with him, tugging you towards the bed, his movements messy as he almost falls once on his way. flopping down onto the covers, pulling you on top so you're straddling him.
it's a pretty view, him under you. he really did look hypnotized in a way whilst you ran your fingers over his facial features, they are not as rough as you thought, on closer inspection.
"you got to many clothes on," you mumble, removing your own shirt and shorts in a clumsy haste.
"then take them off"
you grin, your fingers moving to his shirt to pull it over his head, the action surprisingly slow and tender though it was probably the wine making your mind all foggy.
jungkook looks up to you like you are the moon and the sun, his eyes droopy, his words a stark contrast to his loving gaze, "you're taking to long, c'me here"
"you are in no position to give me orders," you reply, working on his pants.
his head falls back against the sheets, the smile on his face evident, "i think i am, i'm the big, mean boss man"
big, mean boss man - that's how you need to save him in your contacts, you chuckle at the thought, pulling away his boxers. his cock springs free, already hard and throbbing with need.
"shut up or no head," you don't wait for his response, leaning forward to press a tentative kiss onto the tip before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste and texture.
jungkooks hands tighten in your hair, guiding you with a mix of need and tenderness while he bucks his hips. you move your head up and down with precision, taking him deeper with each passing minute.
he curses, curses in a manner you've never seen a man like him do. and you feel a sense of pride in knowing that you have this man practically wrapped around your finger or better said â mouth.
his release is sweet, warm. you swallow each drop especially when he asks you to clean him up, you lick it all off. here and there you look up to him with your lashes and he moans each time.
you can firmly feel something shift in the air when you release him with that little 'pop' noise, reminding of how he left you without an orgasm in that damn uber. at least you had made him cum.
following, he gently pushes you onto the bed. you look over to your right, evidently amused noticing a closed wine bottle on his night desk. perhaps it automatically came with the hotel, it seemed expensive.
a hazy thought lingers in your mind, a blend of the lack of sleep and the alcohol still coursing through your veins. you reach out for the bottle, fingers grasping the cool, smooth glass.
with a tipsy giggle you uncork the wine, bringing it to your lips to get a quick taste before ultimately pouring about a good one third of it over your tits.
you can barerly make out jungkook's face, why did you mind seem so hazy? but you can hear his words, "you're a mess" his tone isn't insulting rather he says it like it was a just a mere fact.
but he calmly licks the liquid of you with the same ease as you had done with his cum.
âsuch a fucking mess,â he repeats, his words softer now, almost affectionate, as he sucks his way down the curve of your tit, "my mess"
his hands wrap around your thighs, putting them on his shoulders. he raises his eyebrows at your state, "all for me?" it sounded like a question though it was clear he didn't expect an answer â he certaintly didn't wait for one either.
the feeling of his hot, wet tongue against your core is a stark contrast to the coldness of the wine-soaked skin in combination with the ac, creating a delicious tension that had you whining for more.
jungkookâs hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he works his mouth over you, each flick of his tongue and suck of his lips calculated to drive you to the edge of sanity. he alternates between gentle, teasing licks and more aggressive, demanding sucks, making sure youâre fully engulfed in pleasure, one way or another.
jungkook eats you out like it's a part of his job, with much care and ease. an grunt or a groan vibrating against you more often then not.
his name slips over your tongue multiple times, and you would've been embarrassed for your porn-like moans if it wasn't for the release washing over you.
it falls over you in one motion and it would've felt like to much if it weren't for jungkook: jungkook, who's fingers wander over your thighs and tummy gently as if trying to bring you back on earth. jungkook, who gives you all the time in the world and whispers reassuring little sweet nothings against the sensitive skin.
when he sees you're somewhat ready to function again, his arms softly lie you onto him, one of his hands working through your hair attentively while his other reached out and lit up a cigarette.
the room has a special scent â wine, sex cigs.
jungkook takes slow, deliberate drags as you trace patterns over his chest, circles, hearts. his fingers absentmindely moving to lightly drum over your back while he takes another hit.
âwant a puff?â he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, and without thinking, you nod, your brain swimming in a delightful stupor. he brings the cigarette to your lips, and you take a tentative drag, the smoke filling your lungs.
âbreathe it in, babeâ he murmurs, the nickname slipping from his lips like a forbidden secret. âlike you did before.â
you do as he says, managing it properly this time as he gives you an approving hum instantly going in for a kiss.
you wake up with sunlight on your face, your first instinct is to smile, the curtains were open, did you forget to close them yesterday?
but as your senses sharpen, you realize something. something: or rather, someone is pressed against you. panic bubbles inside you as you register that jungkook lies beneath you, deep asleep, a peaceful smile grazing his face.
what had you done?
thankfully you remembered everything, though it was much more a curse then a blessing. you hadnât wanted to cross this line.
there was no future here â he only desired you when you were both drunk.
and what was even worse was that you actually felt your heart clench when you looked at his clueless, oblivious face.
you wanted, no- you needed to disappear before the reality of this situation hits the both of you. it was a dick-move but that was what he had done that night, wasn't it?
but just as you begin to shift, a low, sleepy murmur escapes his lips, and he stirs beneath you. his eyes flutter open, a lazy smile making it's way onto his lips as he registers you on top of him, blissfully unaware of your inner conflict.
"good morning, babe," he reaches forward to brush one strand of yours behind your ear, you were convinced there was nothing currently working behind those eyes, "did you sleep well?"
đ tag list â @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd , @1-in-abillion , @ahgasegotarmy116 , @copycat-namjesus , @malkaimoon , @geminiml95 , @taiwan0618 , @jungkookfics , @rrosiitas , @stuti2904
#đˇââď˝ĄË all kinds of wine! verse#bangtan fic#bangtan x reader#bts fic#bts x reader#bts x y/n#bts x you#jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n#jeon jungkook#bangtan x you#bangtan fanfic#bangtan smut#jungkook smut#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts smut
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HEART MADE OF GLASS
a/n: this is totally not to make myself feel better. totally not self indulgent cause i couldn't finish cooking my dinner last night. that gif is also self indulgent. but also hopefully a distraction from how angsty this kind of is. divider as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics.
summary: you couldn't control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.
word count: 1.1k
pairing: logan howlett x reader
warnings: angst, fluff, disassociating, depression isn't outright stated but that's what it is, meat eating (sorry i'm an iron anemic bitch), logan's love language being acts of service.
The fire alarm never went off when you were in the kitchen. So he felt his heart jump at the sound of it blaring through the small apartment. Even down the hall and in the bathroom he smelled the bitter smoke as it rose from the pan you were currently staring at. A blank expression on your face and hand gripping the handle.
He meant to grab his flannel and join you for dinner. What he didn't expect was the emptiness of a silent kitchen not filled with your usual music. Your soft hums as you try to keep in tune with the song.
Logan's favorite pastime was standing in the doorway watching you cook whatever creation came to mind. Whether it tasted good or positively vile, he'd eat it one way or another. He'd swallow happily with a grin simply to see that smile bloom across your face. A look he did everything possible to keep right where it was meant to be.
"Bub?"
You startled, flinching at the sound of the alarm as you shoved the pan away from the burner. "Shit. Sorry."
A frown etched onto his face at your quick apologyâyour eyes never quite meeting him. "Everythin' okay?"
"Yeah," you said, lying right through your teeth. "I just got distracted."
Logan could hear the bullshit louder than the alarm. He knew something was wrong, because he'd seen it before. The silence that filled a once loud household. How you slowed down during the day, unable to finish simple tasks without pushing yourself over the edge. He watched you dwindle down to the barest bones your body had to offer and yet you never asked him for help.
You never explained why it occurred.
This wasn't in part because you didn't want to. You did. You simply held no real reason for why your bodyâyour mindâchose to betray you at the oddest of times. At first you figured it was the lack of sleep. The restlessness that ate away at your body each nightâkeeping you up and active until finally you wore yourself out.
But this wasn't that.
This came from deep inside your chest, lingering beneath the surfaceâwaiting for something good to happen before it struck with a vengeance. This protruded out of your very nightmares.
"Need some help?" He knew the answer before it came. No.
What could he possibly do that you hadn't tried a million times over? There was no easy fix for something this brutal. Silently, you begged him to leave the kitchen and find something else to occupy his time. He stubbornly stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you dumped the now burned pan in the sink. What might have been a delicious steak now looked like a charred brick.
The sight of it still smoking only seemed to dampen your mood further.
You fought to keep yourself there, in the moment. But the dazed expression from earlier began to slowly trail its way back up your face. Until you could do nothing but stare at the mess you made, exhaustion slicing down to your bones.
His looming presence became an afterthought to all that filtered through your head. All the brittle and vile thoughts you tried to keep at bay. Some days they managed to weasel their way past your infinite walls. Some days...they found joy in tearing you up inside little by little.
Voicing it aloud though would never be an option to the havoc you tried to tame.
"C'mon," he muttered, his hands pulling at your hips to move you. "Out of the kitchen."
"I can finishâ"
His glare was devastating.
Most of the time you'd ask him to tell you what he was thinking. Tonight you understood his demand. Get out of the kitchen before you hurt yourself. Let him do what you often did for everyone else.
Give him the chance to put you first.
He points to the chair originally pulled out for him. "Sit down."
But unlike other people he encountered, you were far more stubborn. "I don'tâ"
"Sit on the chair bub. Or I'll tie you to it." The grin he gives you is filled with sarcasm, but you can see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn't hesitate to follow through on a promise like that. He wouldn't even blink. "Your choice."
There was no argument left to throw at him, because his attention was elsewhere. So you sat. You allowed yourself to rest as he stumbled his way through the kitchen. Logan couldn't really cook. He picked up what he could through the life he lived, but nothing came out exactly perfect. That wasn't what warmed your heart at the sight of him standing there intent on delivering a meal worth eating.
He didn't shy away when you tried to push. When the horror that you needed someone to help was no longer a fact you could ignore. No matter how hard you shoved and bit and did what you could to scare him off. Logan pushed back. He quelled your bite with a stature of resolute stoicism.
With an exhale, he flipped the burner off and slid whatever he'd made onto a clean plate. Watching him move felt as if you were being placed in a trance. You almost told him that once in your first week of dating. Something told you he already knew by the way your eyes tracked him from the kitchen to the table.
"Steak," he said, sitting with a grunt.
A quick glance told you one thing. Logan didn't know shit about cooking steak.
You grinned nonetheless.
"There's..." Red spilled down the side, pooling on the plate as steam hit your face. "How long did you cook it?"
He shrugged, slicing it with ease and plopping a piece into his mouth. "Tastes fine to me."
"I'm sure it does."
"Watch it bub," he muttered mid chew, his lips curled into a smirk.
Making a show of zipping your lips shut, you took the piece he offered you. And as he did each time before, you ate it with a grin simply to watch his smirk turn into a smile. There may have been no salt, no extra flavor, and strangely a charred sensation with each bite. But you could taste the love spreading across your tongue with ease.
"Delicious," you garbled in the hopes he'd understand how much you loved him.
He snorted, shoving the plate to the center of the table. His thumb swiped at the juice that leaked from the corner of your mouth, causing your heart to jump erratically in your chest. Even on your bad days he managed to flip the switch in your mind with simple touches and soft looks.
"'M gonna order a pizza."
Leaning into his hand, you pressed a kiss to his wrist. "Thank you."
#just need a large man to cook me food when my mood dips drastically#manifesting this for all of you#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine x y/n#wolverine#my writing
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I can't stop thinking munch!spencer x reader who's insecure about having thick thighs (it's me, I'm reader)
take a seat | s.r
hi thank u for requesting!! i tried to be ambiguous about readerâs size but if it doesnât come across that way lemme know and ill fix it!!!
wc: 1.7k
cw: 18+ smut minors dni, afab reader, face sitting, munch!spencer my beloved, insecure!reader who i took to be a little self indulgent sorry, fluff, hurt comfort but no hurt lol
this is also not proofread sorry
_______________________________________________
the thing about spencer is if you have any fear or qualm about anything, his main verbal form of comfort is information. and itâs not a bad thing, not at all. finding comfort in the facts is what spencer hopes to achieve when he spews his tidbits. itâs just, sometimes itâll do more harm than good, or even worse, do nothing at all.
thatâs where youâre at right now, sitting in spencerâs room with your legs tucked under you while he sits up at the head of the bed. the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone, tie strewn somewhere in the room. youâre still fully clothed albeit in a loose t shirt and some panties. the want in his eyes is undeniable, his question still lingering in the air.
you werenât exactly the most confident person, but was anyone really? did people really wake up in the morning, look at themselves in the mirror and say, âwow, i look beautiful today.â? tell themselves theyâre going to have a good day because they said so?
so when youâd spent your whole life living in the shadows trying to blend in and just do your job, one day an ever observant spencer reid saw you struggling to carry your coffee and your bag into the bullpen and came to your rescue before it could spill all over you. you were a mumbling mess, uttering thank youâs and iâm so sorrys and iâll be more careful next time. but his gaze on you was unwavering, even in the face of your uneasiness, and firmly but softly told you nothing was wrong, and suggested that maybe you and him should get coffee before work to avoid this rush next time.
falling in love with him was too easy after that.
spencer never failed to make you feel cherished, loved, safe, always going above and beyond to care for your needs and wants. the trust you had in him was immense and you knew he would never steer you astray.
so sitting in front of him on his bed while he adorns a small smirk asking, no telling, you to sit on his face, made you falter a bit.
âyou want me, to sit on your face?â
he nods, âyeah.â
any thought youâve ever had vanishes from your brain, âbâbut, wonât it be uncomfortable? for you?â
ânot at all.â
seeing spencer be surprisingly calm about this is having the opposite effect on you, creating the unsettlement in your gut. like heâs been thinking about this for while, has wanted you at his mercy in a way you havenât experienced before, has thought through all the facts and possibilities and ruled with absolute certainty that this was what he wanted, needed. and right now your body is betraying your mind as the heat pools between your legs.
but that brain of yours, a blessing with its vast knowledge but a curse at how easily a single thought can send you into a deep spiral, is working overtime to convince you that this isnât really what he wants.
he can see the cogs working overtime and scoots closer to you and places a comforting hand on your thigh to rub soothing shapes with his thumb, âwhatâs going on in that pretty little head of yours?â
ânothing i-â you stop before you can get too deep.
his eyes look at you expectantly, luring you to continue.
âwhat if i hurt you?â
âthat is literally impossible.â
âwhat if i suffocate you?â
âthen that would be a great way to go out.â he chuckles.
you lightly slap his leg, âstop that.â
he gestures you closer to sit curled into his side, a comforting arm smoothing you up and down. âif you really donât want to do it thatâs okay i donât want to push you, just want you to feel good sâall.â
you ponder for a minute, ââŚyou would tell me if itâs too much right?â
âi would,â he nods, âbut i wonât need to.â
he squeezes your hand in reassurance, and you remember that spencer reid would never lie to you.
which is why you say, âokay.â
his eyes light up like a carnival, âyeah?â
you take a deep breath, âyeah.â
âcome here,â cupping your cheek to bring in and kiss you.
it starts off slow, deliberate. like he wants you to know how much he appreciates you placing your trust in his possession, and how gently and carefully heâs going to take care of it.
you hike a leg over his lap to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his lips mark you like a road map. he moves down your jaw and uses his nose to nudge your neck away, giving him better access to litter the skin with love bites.
the moans spilling from your mouth spur him on, he starts subconsciously bucking his hips up causing you to grow restless for more.
he senses this and motions for you to lift up on your knees above him so he can slide his body down flat between your legs. the warm palms of his hands rest where your thighs meet the swell of your ass.
you look down at the sight of him laid out for you, and catch his shit eating grin staring back. the dichotomy this position gives you with a sense of power to be over him like this but the vulnerability at feeling so exposed caused a swirl of emotions for you.
âhey,â he squeezes his palms laid on your ass, âif this is a lot, thatâs okay.â
âno, no.i think i want this. iâm just scared.â you softly admit.
ânothing to be scared of, angel. itâs not like i havenât eaten you out before, itâs just a different position,â his hands move closer to your core, âlet me make you feel good, please.â
you stare into his eyes once more, being met with nothing but trust and lust for you. with a deep breath, you nod your head.
he smirks again, âalright sweetheart, take a seat.â
you slowly inch your body up his own, hearing him outwardly groan as your cunt came into his line of sight.
âjesus fuck, you have the prettiest pussy.â
you preen at his words once youâve reached the position, and you hover in hesitation. he wraps his arms under and around your legs and gently pulls you down.
and he attacks you like a man starved. his tongue licking a full stripe up your cunt, letting it swirl around your clit. the feeling is so intense in this position you have to lean forward and brace yourself on the headboard.
with a gasp you whine out his name, âoh my god, fuck.â he continues to use his tongue to barrel you towards your peak, knowing exactly where to touch and lick to rile you up.
he can tell youâre still holding back, feeling the tense muscles in your upper thighs harden under his touch. with a sharp tug he pulls you to be seated fully on his face, and he lets out a deep groan that vibrates through your whole body.
youâre fully at his mercy now, held down by his large hands and his mouth working so hard to make you see stars. the pleasure is overtaking all of your senses, when you look down to meet his eyes theyâre staring right back at you, reveling in your ecstasy. a languished moan leaves you as you tangle your hands in his hair and pull.
he laps up your arousal with urgency, tongue moving in such a delicate and intricate way you would think heâs writing a love letter with it.
the coil in your gut starts to tighten and you can feel your peak coming fast, âspenceâŚâ you whine.
he hums in response, silently acknowledging what you mean. one more slow lick up and down your slit was all it took to push you overboard. the endorphins rush over you like a tsunami as you try to ride out the wave of your orgasm.
spencer doesnât stop his motions and continues to work your overly sensitive clit, gripping your legs tighter to him as he prevents you from escaping.
âshit, oh god baby, you need to stâstop.â you brokenly moan out. you tug on his hair hard as you try to release his grip on you, and after a few minutes he takes pity and lets you go.
you let out a big and tired sigh as you flop to the side of him, one leg still draped over him as youâre both panting heavily, attempting to come down from the heat of the moment.
he smoothes out the leg over him with his hand and turns to face you, face plastered with a stupid grin and glistening with you.
âsee? that wasnât so bad.â
you scoff breathlessly, âi think maybe youâre trying to kill me.â
âmaybe,â he laughs, â but you liked it right?â
you nod bashfully, âdid youâŚlike it?â
his eyes widen, âare you kidding? you looked so hot it drove me insane. youâre always so beautiful but having you like thatâŚi like making you feel good, it makes me feel really good, and that is a win-win.â
you smile at him and move closer to fit under his arm and into his side, your hand resting on his chest. he tightens his arm around you and whisper, âi love you.â
âi love you too,â you say through hooded eyes. your hand starts trailing lower, âmust have been really good for you seeing how painful this looks.â you softly say, gesturing to the aching bulge in his boxers, the dark patch stained by precum.
his breath hitches as you inch closer, âbaby, no itâs okay. you donât have to do thââ the sentence gets cut off when your hand gives him a tentative squeeze.
âi donât have to, but i want to. i should thank you somehow for making me feel so good,â your voice dropping an octave in lust, âwill you let me show my thanks, honey?â
you stare at him with the sultriest doe eyes heâs ever seen, and heâs thoroughly convinced in that moment that you are, in fact, trying to kill him.
still a great way to go out, he thinks.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid imagine#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fanfiction
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hi!!! totally up to you if you want to write it (it maybe too self indulgent ahhhhh). but i was think of bau!reader (or bau!adjacent) who has known spencer for forever and has watched him "glow up"/become more confident and is now dating him, but is now more self-conscious that he will realize that he is totally out of her league since women are now hitting on him all the time and he is able to basically flip men in the field. something like that if you get the vibe? just a girlfriend who is worried her boyfriend will outgrow her and is scared they'll breakup. feel free to ignore! love your work sm!!!
a league of your own | S.R.
as your boyfriend seemingly evolves, you grow increasingly aware of the feeling of being left behind
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst (heavy on the fluff, more like internalized angst) content warnings: in a bar but neither spencer nor reader are drinking, follows the events of 14x12 "hamelin", discusses the pronunciation of asmr word count: 1.4k a/n: self conscious reader is so important to me. this is for everyone who has a hard time naming their feelings. thank you for requesting!!
âHe flipped him over the table?â You asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at Tara, who was talking about your boyfriendâs maneuvering of Arthur Brodie in the field. In passing, you had heard about the mark left on the suspectâs forehead, but you hadnât heard the story of how he had gotten it â until now.
Bringing her cup to her lips, Tara nodded at you, her expression clarifying that it was as impressive as it sounded. You sighed at the newest addition to Spencerâs ever-evolving personality, it was hard not to think of them as grievances against you, but thatâs what it felt like.
You looked over your shoulder to the bar, trying to scope out where he had disappeared to before you spotted a familiar mess of brown curls. From where you were standing, you could see him holding two drinks in his hands, but it wasnât until he shifted his stance that you saw the girl that he was speaking with. âAnd thatâs three,â Luke observed, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched the same scene as you.
Emily asked what he was talking about, but you tuned them out as you watched the interaction. You already knew this was the third woman to hit on him since the team entered the bar thirty minutes ago.
There was no mistaking it, your boyfriend was easy on the eyes, and you werenât naĂŻve enough to try to deny that fact. Still, you were having a hard time adjusting to seeing him garner exponentially more attention from people at the bar. âYou better go get your man, or she might steal him away from you,â Luke taunted, nodding his head in the direction of the bar.
âWhat?â Your head snapped back in the direction of the bar, eyes wide as you peered across the bar where Spencer was talking animatedly to the blonde in front of him before he looked behind himself and gestured to you, prompting you to wave timidly at the both of them.
The girl sneered in your direction before spinning on her heel and trudging away, freeing your boyfriend to return to you at the table. âThey didnât have any limes, so they put a lemon in your Shirley Temple,â Spencer said apologetically, dropping a kiss on the part of your hair as he set the glass in front of you.
Shaking your head, you smiled up at him, âThatâs fine, thank you.â You told him, placing your hand on the glass and spinning it to better access the straw.
If he noticed anything odd, he didnât comment on it, instead deciding to contribute to Tara and Rossiâs conversation on ASMR.
As the team continued to chat around you, you just continued spinning your glass on the oak table, becoming more and more conscious of the way your thighs stuck to the leather booth. Your eyes only flicked up when you noticed people staring at you, âWhat?â You asked, heart racing as you had been caught daydreaming.
The five remaining members of your team at the table were all looking at you with similar curious looks, âRossiâs headed out. He was just saying goodbye,â Penelope said, reaching across the table and awkwardly patting your hand.
âOh,â you responded meekly, âHave a good night. Tell Krystall I said hi.â You shifted in your seat, the sound of your legs unsticking from the seat seemingly amplified tenfold in your self-conscious state.
As Dave made his way out, Spencer gestured for you to move over so he could sit next to you. Tara got up to get in line for the restroom and Luke and Garcia weaseled their way into one of their patented bickering matches, you nearly jumped when you felt Spencerâs hand settle on your thigh. âAlright,â he muttered, turning his head to you, âWhatâs up with you tonight?â
Frowning, you looked up at Spencer, brown eyes studying your face as he hunted for even the slightest hint of what had gotten into you. The only problem was you didnât have a name for it yourself. It could be perceived as jealousy, but you werenât concerned with anyone actually taking Spencerâs attention away from you, you were just feeling feelings. Unnamable feelings.
You brought your glass closer to you, the condensation being a welcome relief on your warm skin, pinching the straw as you took a sip of your drink. âNothingâs up,â you said, stirring the lemon wedge around in your glass.
âAre you sure? You look flushed,â he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully before he gently pushed his water in your direction.
Brushing off his concern, you turned your attention to watching Luke and Garcia in an animated discussion on how to pronounce ASMR â Penelope insisted she was right, and Luke didnât necessarily care either way. You only moved your gaze when the blonde from earlier passed by again, dragging her palm over Spencerâs shoulder, causing him to lean into you.
Flustered, you took a long sip of your drink before setting it back down, âCan we go?â You asked Spencer, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you looked at him expectantly.
As he began to put puzzle pieces together, he nodded, standing up and gathering your glasses to set them on the bar. You said your goodbyes before leading the way out and flipping Luke off as he called out something about protection, something that would have previously left Spencer embarrassed and stammering, but now made him chuckle as he held the door open for you.
Part of you was grateful for this sort of evolution in Spencer, he was, after all, more confident in every aspect of his life. Now waiting for the metro, you looked at him, longer hair, his work shirt unbuttoned at the top and pushed up to his elbows. The light breeze in the tunnel moved his hair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, âAre you alright, love?â
Your shoulders drooped helplessly at the pet name, âYou shoved a guy on a table?â
His face fell, âIs that what this is about? Me using force against a suspect?â
Quickly, you shook your head, âNo, no. He pushed Tara, itâs not that at all,â you scrambled to reassure him, knowing he was afraid that his time in federal prison had made him a violent person. âItâs just⌠you shoved a guy onto a picnic table and youâre getting hit on by people in bars and youâre dressing differently and Iâm just⌠me.â You hold your hands out as if youâre on display, looking down at the sundress you had thrown on and the sneakers you wore for comfort instead of style.
âAre you jealous that Iâm getting attention from other people?â He asked, âBecause Iâve never encouraged anyone.â That was true, last week a deputy sheriff had made a move on your boyfriend, and the only thing he had gotten in return was an earful on how you had made the deduction that eventually solved the case.
Bowing your head, you regretted ever saying anything in the first place, âNo,â you groaned, âWhatâs that term for someone who canât name their emotions? Thatâs me. Right now. At this moment.â
Spencer chuckled at your frustration, âItâs called alexithymia, and thereâs nothing wrong with that.â
âIâve watched you change in front of my very own eyes in the last year, and I guess Iâm just feeling left behind,â you admitted. âYouâre a changed person and thereâs nothing different about me.â
He tilted his head to the side curiously, âCan I ask you something?â
âAnything,â you said desperately, hoping to get to the bottom of your conflicting emotions.
âDid you love me before?â
You froze, looking up at him, âOf course.â
He raised his eyebrows, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, âAnd you love me now?â
Nodding, you stepped closer to him, âVery much so.â
âThen thereâs nothing else I could possibly ask of you,â he told you, smiling as you blushed. âYou donât need to change in time with me, and â since weâre being honest â Iâve always felt like Iâm the one lagging behind you. So, maybe Iâve just been playing catch-up.â
You frowned, moving even closer to him as the platform grew crowded, âWell, now I feel ridiculous.â
âNot ridiculous,â he murmured, âJust human,â Spencer amended.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#spencer reid x you#written by margot#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid hurt/comfort#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid blurb#margot's requests
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Off Time | LN4
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Ships : Lando Norris x F1 Presenter! Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Subtags : She fell first; He fell harder, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pinning
A/N: Bruh this is so self indulgent! FYI~ I made this during my internship time (I was literally doing nothing). So heree enjoyyy ig?
Summary : You have pursued Landoâs affection, yet he doesnât seem interested. Till your patience wavers and Lando realizes it too late. Will there be a right time for the two of you?
Masterlist
Part 2
It was another season of Formula 1 on the Silverstone track, the paddock was buzzing with excitement and cameras flashing as the drivers arrived one by one.
You were patiently waiting by the entrance of the paddock club eagerly looking for the family that loved you like their own. You promised them that youâll see and spend time with the Norrises first before your busy schedule fully takes over and renders you unavailable for the rest of the weekend. It was expected considering that your line of work requires you with a mic and a camera on you at all times.
You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, probably your boss Mia giving you orders on your next driver interview, and as you checked â you were right. Oh! It was at Mercedes with George. You were in the middle of replying to your boss when you suddenly felt arms wrap around your waist with force enough to make the both of you stumble for balance.
âY/N! I missed you~ did you bring my stroopwaffles?â You were suddenly engulfed and bombarded by the youngest Norris sibling.
âYes, Flo . Its at the hotel and I missed you too. Babe, I saw the horse show on video. You were amazing!â you exclaimed proudly as you hugged the younger girl back.
Your eyes then softened as you gazed at Adam and Cisca. They were smiling from ear to ear waiting for their turn for a hug.
âHi, guys!â You finally said as Flo released you from her clutches and the Elder Norrises hugged you in one big group hug.
âHi, darling. Itâs so nice to see you again. Donât get me wrong dear youâre amazing on TV â I just prefer to see you in personâ Cisca comes at you as she pushes her husband aside to gather you alone in her arms; squeezing you.
â Honey, let the poor girl breathe.â Adam Norris lovingly reprimanded his wife as he placed his hand on your head and messed with your hair.
You giggled at the familyâs antics. Your eyes wandered around the area and you couldnât help but look, hoping to see Landoâs presence nearbyâ hoping to have a chat or something.
The Elder Norris couple saw you looking around, probably looking for their son and they couldnât help but feel awful for you.
âIâm sorry sweetie, Lando said that heâs running a bit late. We should go on aheadâ
âOh, yes of course. Shall we? I need to show you my office, I just got promoted!â You said trying to hide your disappointment with the achievement you got.
They knew that you liked their boy, and they were so happy about it. They would do anything to have you in the family. They just hoped that their son would finally clean his act up and see the amazing girl that was in front of him before it was too late.
As you walked through the paddock with Floâs arm draped around yours, you couldnât stop thinking about the British McLaren Driver.
He didnât hate you, he didnât hold anything against youâ he just was⌠indifferent. Lando Norris didnât like you the way that you did. Lando wasnât interested, not in a romantic relationship type of way anyway. Or thatâs what you concluded considering that for the past months of trying to shoot your shot, you were always turned down by the English Mclaren Driver.
His fellow drivers and best mates had always supported your attempts to pursue Lando. They said that you would be good for him, that you and Lando made sense. They knew that you would make him happy.
You met his family by chance and it bloomed when you saved them from being hounded by the press during the race where their son crashed; this resulted in a thank-you dinner and the rest was history.
His dad had loved you and wanted you in the family â so much that you were invited to intimate family gatherings and outings. His mom cherished your times together inside the kitchen, bonding over shared recipes and coffee dates. While his younger sister ran to you for comfort and advice. You were practically a Norris at this point.
However, the Norris sibling that held your fancy wanted nothing to do with you. To him, you were the family friend and the commentator from Sky F1. You were just a distant friend at best and for you that was enough.
Your mind was preoccupied with dazzling green eyes, the head of full curly hair, and now a blemish on his nose from a cut that you found most attractive on him. Your thoughts were fully circling Lando Norris and you didnât realize that it was time to say goodbye to Adam, Cisca, and Flo.
âOk guys, I need to work. Iâll find you when I can, alright?â You sulked as you dropped the Norrises off in front of Mclarenâs Motorhome. They said their goodbyes with hugs and cheek kisses. As you were leaving and them stepping inside the doors of McLaren â you were so sure that you saw the mop of curly hair that belonged to Lando Norris.
And you knew deep down that Lando was there the entire time and he just didnât want to talk to you if not necessary. Knowing that information hurt you tremendously, but you continued to smile nevertheless.
***
Inside the McLaren Motorhome, just as you left, there stood Lando Norris clad in a black hoodie and sweats waiting for his family to enter. Yet his eyes lingered on the girl who seemed to catch his familyâs affection like a bear to honey.
âMum, Dad, Flo! How have you been?â Lando exclaimed as he hugged his family one by one.
âWhat is it, mum?â Lando asked his mother as soon as he spotted the disapproval on her face
âYou said that youâll be late, why are you inside the motorhome then?â Ciscaâs eyes narrowed at her son.
Landoâs eyes shifted away from his mum, he didnât like to lie to his parents. Rather to be quiet than lie.
âYou know why, plus Iâm thinking of dating someone else so please stop pushing Y/N to me,â Lando said somewhat indignantly.
âSon, Y/N is an amazing girl. Anyone would be lucky to have her. We just donât want you to regret anythingâ His father explained pointedly however still gentle.
âListen, I know that you love having her around. But, I just donât fancy her like that. â Lando languidly explained to his family his feelings for the commentator for what seemed to be the hundredth time.
âLando, I love you, but youâre being stupid. Maybe Y/N could be better off with someone other than youâ Flo mutters with her lips pouted out as she pulls her parents further into the motorhome, not bothering to wait for what seems to be a frozen Lando.
Lando knew to himself that he didnât like you. He was sure of it. Then why does the thought of you with someone else make his stomach churn and his blood boil?
He pictured you aiming your beautiful smile towards another man. Lando imagined you riding in another manâs car and being your attentive and caring self. A memory of you doing the same to him came to his mind.
You were seated in the passenger seat of his Mclaren, the sound of the Japanese houseâs âSunshine Babyâ slowly playing in the background as the three of you cruised through the streets of Bristol, while Flo was dozing off in the backseat. Everything was peaceful and calm as Lando drummed his hand to the beat. The drizzle of rain slowly pelted on the windshield, adding to the calmness.
âWhat song is this?â Lando suddenly asked you, catching you off guard. His eyes then met yours and held your gaze.
âOh! Itâs Sunshine Baby by the Japanese House. You like it?â You asked back, reluctance was evident in your voice.
âMhmm, Itâs very calming. I mostly listen to house music and EDM⌠something calm is great. Do have other recommendations?â Lando conversed with a smile on his face, his eyes meeting yours once again before looking back to the road.
âI have an entire playlist! Give me your phoneâ You showed Lando your palm gesturing for his phone.
As Lando hands his phone to you, Flo wakes from her sleep and demands food on the way.
âLando I want food. Y/N please buy me foodâ The younger Norris pouted at you and his brother.
âWhat do you want to eat, Babe?â You asked Flo when you saw Lando nod in approval.
âFish and Chips!â Flo exclaimed with enthusiasm. You saw the look of apprehension of the British Driver but he didnât say anythingâ only silently drove to the nearest fry shop instead.
âIâll be back with food.â You spoke as you went to grab your wallet. Lando was handing his card, but you only grinned at the driver then sticking your tongue out as you exited the vehicle.
âI got this covered London boy!â You teased, earning a laugh from both the Norris siblings.
The food didnât take too long and before you knew it you were back inside the slick Mclaren as the smell of grease and salt wafting the air.
âOhhhh, that smells amazing~ did you get us all Fish and Chips, Y/N?â Flo asked as she moved to get her food.
âBabe, Your brother doesnât like fish. So I bought Chicken and Chips for him instead. While you and I get fishâ You replied as you gave Flo her food and drink.
âYou got me food too and itâs not fish?â Lando asked you with a look of both admiration and a bit of confusion.
âMhm, you hate fish, right? So chicken it is!â You smiled at the McLaren Driver as you popped the straw in his diet soda and handed it to him.
You were always thoughtful and sweet to everyone, but Lando saw that you were especially so with Him and his family âyou remembered every detail.
An uncomfortable sensation settled on his chest as Lando saw in his mind you sharing the bond you had with his family with the family of your other half.
âLando! Come onâ His train of thought was disturbed by the shouts of his dad. However, the feeling of stuffiness remained.
***
You were walking through the paddock towards Ferrari when you walked into Alexandra and Rebecca along the way. The two wags were sweet and inviting, despite their lives of luxury and glamour; their humility shined especially Charlesâ girlfriend.
While you were friendly with Rebecca â you didnât have anything that connected you other than Carlos Sainz. You always felt a bit of tension with the girl, on her part of course. Maybe because of your close relationship with Carlos, jealousy was a feeling you understood well, so you didnât hold it against the girl. However, with Alex, Alex just like Flo has found solace in your presence in the paddock. You were the first of the few who welcomed her with smiles and open arms when she first started appearing in races; solidifying your bond with the art graduate.
And so Alexandra was the very first to advise you on the news that ultimately breaks your heart.
âY/N, I heard from Kika that Lando has been going on dates with a girl named Magui for a couple of weeks now and she says that the girl would be coming to the races in the very near futureâ Alex gently said as she clutched your arms tighter around hersâ offering comfort.
Your breath was caught in your throat and you didnât know how to reply without bursting into tears.
You thought after Luisinha you had a chance or at least to be closer with the driver. But with rumors swimming around about him dating this Portuguese model with a checkered dating past, your chances grow slimmer and slimmer.
Maybe you were kidding yourself for hoping for Lando to reciprocate your feelings. Maybe you were being overly optimistic when everyone said that Lando would come around. Maybe the best was just to give up.
Maybe it was time to truly let go of Lando Norris.
***
It was impossible to miss each other in the paddock, one way or another Lando and Y/N crossed paths.
It was almost routine for Lando to hear your voice calling out his name as you waved your hand in greeting. A sweet smile was always ready for him.
Thatâs why shock and bewilderment overcame Lando as you walked past him as if he wasnât even there. No greeting, no smile, not even a brief eye contact.
You went past the driver as if he werenât there. As you continued to walk away, Lando couldnât help but look at your retreating form with hurtâ he looked wounded by your indifference.
He then heard your sweet voice calling out a name, but this time it wasnât hisâ it was his teammates' name. âOscar!â You bellowed at the Australian Driver; with a smile that Lando wished was directed at him.
***
It has been a month with Y/Nâs interactions with Lando at a standstill. And at this point Lando cannot deny that it drove him mad, that you drove him mad.
He was no longer in denial about his feelings for you. He fully accepted it and he wanted you back. Lando Norris liked you the way you did.
#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 imagine#f1 fic#mclaren#formula 1 fic#lando noriss one shot#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris x y/n#lando#lando x reader#lando x you#ln4 angst#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fluff#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4#ln4 x you#ln4 x reader#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris angst#f1 fanfic
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ELECTRIC [ih-lek-trik] adjective. electrifying; thrilling; exciting; stirring
dean x fem!reader cw suggestive making out, nicknames (sweetheart, his girl, darlinâ), swearing, minor spoilers for s3/4? (hell) wc 746 cross posted on ao3
summary to dean, youâve never looked better than when youâre covered in blood and sweat after a hunt notes this is 100% self indulgent. i need this man like i need oxygen
dean knew, deep down, that you could handle yourself. you were a big girl with an even bigger gun - anything in its right mind would fear you.
still, that didnât stop him pacing anxiously while he and sam waited for you to finish the hunt. it was one of the more simple hunts theyâd had in a while; a witch was luring men to a house deep in the woods where theyâd be put under a spell the second they stepped foot inside.
dean would honestly rather have been completely pliant under the witches thumb than let you go in alone, but you and sam were adamant.
waiting for you felt like a lifetime, and heâd lost count of how many times heâd heard sam tell him to âjust sit downâ but he couldnât, not while his girl was in there alone. even sam was beginning to get a little antsy before you finally emerged.
you were panting, covered in blood splatters (dean hoped none of it was yours) and sweat.
to dean, youâd never looked hotter.
he was so entranced by you that he almost missed you recapping your fight to sam, instead watching you effortlessly clean off your blade and gun and feeling his jeans get a little tighter.
âdean,â you said, clicking in front of his face, âyou good?â
he smirked. âyeah, sweetheart. iâm good.â
âyouâre disgusting,â sam mumbled almost immediately, heading off to the impala.
dean looked you up and down and you raised an eyebrow. âwhat about me looking this gross turns you on? iâm covered in some random witches blood, my own blood, and dirt and god knows what else-â you started, but dean took a few steps towards you and your words died in your throat.
âsweetheart,â he drawled, the southern twang in his voice heavy, âyou always - always - look hotter than hell. and trust me, iâve been there.â
he moved closer, one hand hovering at your waist. âmay i?â he asked, his voice low and thick.
âplease,â you all but whined in return, not trusting yourself to speak more.
deanâs hand landed on your waist, and your body lit on fire. he moved impossibly closer, your lips meeting his in the middle as electricity exploded between you.
kissing dean was like nothing youâd ever felt before. his lips were soft, softer than youâd thought (and youâd definitely thought about them before). he was gentle at first, but as you deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth, he grew more passionate, rougher, almost like he couldnât control himself, fighting you for dominance.
he pushed you against the side of the house, body flush against yours. one of his hands was still stuck to your waist while the other roamed your body, mapping out your hips, your ass, your waist in his mind.
you moaned as he tried desperately to get closer to you, deepening the kiss even more. you could feel everything - his chest, his abs, the bulge in his jeans (that made you smile into the kiss - you knew the effect you had on him, but feeling it was something else). you ran your hands up his stomach, feeling up his chest before they eventually settled at the nape of his neck. you tugged at his hair a little, eliciting a groan from the man in front of you.
âfuck, yâcanât do that to me, darlinâ,â he said, breaking the kiss.
to him, you looked stunning. your pupils were blown out, lips swollen, and face flushed.
from your point of view, things didnât look much different. dean looked positively angelic, eyes half lidded and focused only on you, hair a mess, panting hard.
you were about to lean in again, chasing more of the passion, the electricity that flowed between the two of you, when deanâs phone rang. he groaned, checking the id.
âsam,â he supplied, briefly flashing you his phone screen.
âwe should head back,â you said, still breathless.
âletâs continue this later then, sweetheart.â
you made your way to the impala where sam was waiting, an impatient yet knowing look on his face. you climbed into baby, not saying a word.
sam didnât see you on the ride back, adjusting your jeans and sitting with your legs crossed the whole time.
dean, however, did. his thoughts were already drifting to getting a second motel room before, but now it was first on his to-do list when you got back.
#veeâs fics â#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester smut#dean winchester fluff#dean x reader#supernatural x reader#supernatural fluff#supernatural smut#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester
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"my hero" - m.v.
pairing: social worker!reader x max verstappen
word count: idek tbh (iâm posting this on my lunch break hehe)
warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, max in bf mode, long distance couple, cursing here and there, mentions of mental health, mentions of mental health disorders, mentions of physical health, yada, yada, yada
a/n: i know i said i was working on requests but this idea would not leave my brain all day. i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to write it. (it's def a little self-indulgent) i hope y'all enjoy!
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"ah! there you are. i can see you now!""
a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your lips forming a wide smile, "hi baby, how are you?"
he shrugs, the image distorted for about a millisecond. he comes into frame once again, slightly pixelated. however, you can make out the sleepy grin plastered across his face, and the twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera.
max verstappen, three time world driverâs champion, is on facetime with you, donned in nothing but a black cotton tee and his boxers. you can tell from the background that heâs in his motorhome, settled in his room.
his hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up haphazardly. he more than likely just got out of the shower, as the fabric of the tee clung to his toned frame. underneath his eyes were two faint circles, the skin slightly puffy.
yet, here he was, calling you at god knew what hour just to hear the sound of your voice.
"tired. very fucking tired."
"i can imagine so," you nod, typing along at your laptop, "what time is it there?"
he hums, leaning over his phone, "it's about eleven thirty?"
"max!" your eyes widen, "you need to get some sleep. it's qualifying tomorrow!"
"and?" he counters, arching a brow, "i wanted to hear how your day went. from your messages, it seemed like it was quite eventful."
"i'm just wrapping up my notes now," you exhale, your shoulders slumping slightly, "it was a long day."
"i can imagine my baby," he coos, settling underneath the covers, "tell me all about it."
"i can assure you being a case worker is not nearly as riveting as a formula one driver," you snort, shaking your head, "you go first."
"nope," he was not budging, his attention still fixated solely on you, "tell me about your day, and then i'll share about mine. it's only fair."
"well," you wrinkle your nose, glancing over the open document on your laptop screen, "my day started with one of my clients experiencing a small crisis. she was without food so she called me, asking if i could take her to the nearest pantry. while i was with her, another client of mine called asking if i could transport him to his appointment.
i probably could have, but he reached out to me only fifteen minutes before his appointment time. i received my new staffing form today. i have a couple of clients who are in need of housing so i had to make some calls to some local agencies."
"and how did that go?" you can't help but feel heat flourishing into your cheeks at the intrigue laced in his tone, "were you able to make some progress?"
"not really," you inhale sharply, "housing is really difficult to find right now. it's sort of like when your tires are giving out, but you need them to last a few more laps. you have to remain hopeful so that you can keep pushing."
âi like that analogy,â he fights a yawn, but continues regardless, âthatâs a good one. iâm going to use that.â
âas long as you credit me,â you muse, clicking your mousepad as you finalize your note, âhow was practice today?â
âso-so,â he chirps, âi missed you a lot today. thought about you nearly every second of the practice session. youâre flying out next week, right?â
you nod, shutting your laptop, âyes. iâll be leaving wednesday evening and catching a late flight. hopefully when i land, there will be this insanely handsome dutch man waiting for me.â
âis that right?â maxâs dimples appear, causing your heart to skip a beat, âiâm hoping that my good luck charm arrives safe and sound. i canât wait to see her.â
âcounting down the minutes are we?â
âyou have no idea,â carefully, he plucks his phone from his makeshift stand, bringing you closer into the bed with him, âwill you stay on till i fall asleep?â
at his request, thereâs a tug at your heart. fuck, if only you were with him. then he would have been able to lay on you until he dozed off. his head would have been snuggled into uour collabone, your hands tangled in his hair, playing with it as his chest steadily rose and fell.
if only you were there. if only you were an influencer or a model. if only you could take work with you, dropping everything to fly all over the world. if only you werenât separated by time zones, where you had to carefully coordinate facetime calls.
if only you werenât long distance, then maybe you wouldnât feel like this.
if only.
âhey,â maxâs voice is merely a whisper, âare you okay?â
your lower lip trembles, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. thereâs a choking sound, as you attempt to suppress a sob.
yet, it was too late. they were streaming down your cheeks now, your hands instinctively shielding your face.
âbaby,â max murmurs, âwhatâs going on?â
âthis shit sucks,â you shake your head, the words strained, âi hate that iâm not with you right now. i hate that weâre long distance. i hate that i have to stay here andââ
âbut your clients need you,â his tone is delicate, âyouâre the one person they can count on when everything else is going to shit. they need you like i need you. i can tell you had a long day baby, but iâm here. iâm here for you, no matter what.â
âi-i love you,â you manage to sputter out, wiping your cheeks, âi love you, max.â
âand i love you more than youâll ever know,â in the frame, a pillow is held against his chest, âiâm even cuddling this pillow right now pretending that itâs you.â
âi canât believe you fell in love with some plain girl from the states,â you sigh, resting your head against the couch cushion, âout of everyone in the world, you happened to fall in love with me.â
âyouâre not just any girl from the states,â for a moment, youâre shocked at the firmness in his tone, âyouâre my girl. it takes someone special to do what you do. youâre my hero baby. i aspire to be as strong as you.â
âi love you,â the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile, âam i really your hero?â
âof course,â it doesnât even take him a second to respond, âlike i said, youâre the strongest person i know. you inspire me.â
âi canât wait to see you,â you murmur, taking note of the way his eyes were drooping, âiâll stay on till you sleep, my love. it seems like you need it.â
âhey,â one eye opens, barely a slit, âi know this shit sucks right now, but weâll make it. okay? one day youâll get to come home to me and tell me all about your day rather than calling. itâll be worth it. i promise.â
âi hope so. i love you, maxie. sleep well, my love. iâll be there before you know it.â
âtry to have a good evening,â you could barely make out the statement, as he was beginning to doze off, âjust end the call when iâm asleep. iâll message you in the morning.â
âiâll be here,â opening your laptop, you prop it against the screen, âgoodnight, maxie.â
ânight, night, baby.â
as sleep takes a hold of the dutch driver, you remain on the call, opening youtube. cautiously, you click on one of your favorite videos. itâs a montage of all of maxâs wins, starting from the 2016 spanish grand prix.
the video begins to play, the volume carefully adjusted so that it doesnât wake him.
as your gaze shifts to your phone once again, you canât help but hear his words ringing in your ears.
one day this would all be worth it.
and one day, max verstappen would be able to be with his hero.
every single day for the rest of his life.
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