#lowkey feels like going backwards

[tonycries]

I'm Addicted, I Admit It!

Synopsis. They’re not drunk on alcohol - no, they’re drunk on you and your pretty lil’ pússy.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pússydrunk boys, strength differences, bréeding, màting press, desperate boys, manhandling, marking, jealousy (Nanami’s side), praise, degradation, smacking, cúmplay, dirty talk, some HEINOUS things, lowkey fluffy Sukuna, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Was originally gonna be something else but I couldn’t get it out of my head so-

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Won’t stop, can’t stop

A pussydrunk Toji Fushiguro promises to break you - and is fully intent on fulfilling these promises. There’s no way he wasn’t with the way he had you folded into a mating press for the third time tonight. 

“Oh hngh- please.” you mewl, begging for- you don’t even know at this point. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your mouth, and you flinch as his heavy balls smack your ass harder, throbbing cock massaging your gummy walls over and over-

You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, his cum gushing out of your overfilled pussy and spreading in a lewd little pool beneath you. You’re beyond the point of cockdrunk at this point - all you can do is sit there and take it while he keeps squeezing himself into you with reckless abandon. 

That little scar on the corner of his mouth rubs against your lips so deliciously as he grimaces in both pain and pleasure. Overstimulating you both to insanity. And fuck, Toji wasn’t even sure if he could cum against but damn if he wasn’t going to try. Just wanting to fill you up one more time- “One more, doll. Not fucking enough.”

And before you know it, your pussy is clenching around nothing. 

“Ngh- T-Toji.” Face sinking into the plush pillow as Toji flips you like a ragdoll. Not even giving you the time to register what’s happening before he’s bullying his thick cock into your dripping cunt from behind. Relishing in that delirious little squeal of surprise that leaves you as he stuffs you full again.

“Shit, fucking squeezing around me so fucking deliciously, sweetheart. Look at ya.” he slurs hoarsely, voice shot. Drinking in your sobbed little, “Ah- jus’ like that. Fuck hngh- keep going-”

Both of you are barely lucid at this point, but it’s all that tiny rational part of himself can do to not fuck into your sloppy pussy like an animal while you clench and flutter around him. Kissing hotly down your spine as you desperately adjust to his massive cock.

But ah you should’ve known - should’ve gotten an inkling of realization at the way his achingly hard cock was throbbing inside your walls at a maddening little bump! bump! bump!

With an impatient little grunt, Toji wraps an arm around your waist to give your quivering cunt a soft little swat! He drinks in your cute lil’ gasp of surprise, reeling back all the way till his angry, red tip was just kissing your sloppy entrance, pushing in quick, short jabs of his hips - more to fit himself deeper inside your snug cunt than anything. 

With each harsh thrust, Toji’s pulling you back onto himself with bruising strength. Forcing you to feel every ridge and vein against all the right places as he stretches you on his cock. “Fuck, you’re incredible.” he murmurs. “Arch more f’me- yeah, that’s it. Tha’s my girl.” 

And oh how you love being thrown around by him this way. Because no more was Toji self-conscious about hurting you like he usually was. 

No, he’s pushing your back down to arch into his dick, still using and bending you however he pleases. And as he flattens his feet on the mattress, putting his body weight onto yours, it’s only a matter of time before you wonder when bones will start breaking.

But it still wasn’t enough. And he’s restless. 

Because Toji’s looping two strong arms around your legs, letting himself fall backwards onto the mattress, hips burning as he keeps fucking you like an animal. Not pausing even as you clench around him in shock. 

“Feels s’fucking heavenly.” he groans, voice raw. “Wan’ one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.” Lacing his fingers above your head to push. Down down down. So fucking filthily. 

And it burns the way he had you so shamefully spread open. At this point you can hardly believe you’re conscious let alone being able to sob out a strangled little, “Yes! Yes yes yes make me cum, Toji. Make me cum all over your cock again.” 

And he does - thumb pressing down on your poor, ravaged clit. Hard. unmoving even as you whine and buck into his touch. Torn between running away and pushing back for more more more- you cum with nothing more than pathetic little tingles that make you milk Toji’s cock desperately. Batting your lashes tearily up at him with a low, “Wan’ you to hah- c-cum insi-.”

You don’t even have to finish the sentence, before Toji’s pumping his seed into you with a strangled groan of what sounds like your name. Nothing more than hot, sticky wisps of cum that trickle down the side, too much for your poor overfilled pussy. Shooting delicate rope after rope until his cock is angry and twitching inside with nothing but blanks.

But in the haze of your high, you hear the way your boyfriend still finds it in himself to chuckle.  A dark little, “One more, sweetheart.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - His, his, his

When Nanami Kento is pussydrunk, everyone will know the day after. 

And by everyone, it’s everyone - from the apartment security guard that blushes and looks away, to your coworkers who titter when you walk in. 

Because Nanami can’t stop himself from claiming each and every inch of your pretty self. Lips searing on your skin, leaking tip dragging along your swollen folds. His precum smearing so filthily across your cunt.

“K-Kento-” you mewl, grinding your hips into his so that he would just fucking ruin you like you wanted him to. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, nipping along the delicate skin of your neck. Tongue flattening, licking long, languid stripes down like a sort of reverence. “Tell me what you want, my love.”

And if he put an emphasis on the pet name, well, then let it be known that Nanami Kento was a composed man - but that wouldn’t mean he won’t let everyone know you’re his. Even those scrubs that can’t take a hint. 

Which is why his neat fingernails were digging deep into your hips, leaving pretty crescents in their wake. Dragging down ever-so-slightly to leave you all marked up and his. His grip on you only tightens at the pretty lil’ whines that spill from your kiss-bitten lips, “Wan’ you- hah- inside me s’bad.”

“Oh? And who does my girl want inside her pretty lil’ cunt?”

“You! You Kento- ngh-”

Well, whatever his girl wants - she will get. Because Nanami’s immediately pressing his angry, leaking tip into your sloppy pussy, groaning at the way you’re already clamping down on him so deliciously. Not stopping till you were flush against the neat tufts of blond at his base. Barely even giving you time to adjust because you’ve wanted this for so long and you’re sucking him up so well. 

“Ah! Hngh- Fuck. Yeah fuck me just like that- Kento.” you’re tightening your legs around him, letting Nanami all but use you as he thrusts in small, mindless little motions of his hips. Mouth still marking and biting your skin relentlessly. 

His lips leave your neck to whisper against yours, eyes half-lidded and boring into yours. “Love when y’say my name.”

Gasping breathlessly at the bruising grip all on your hips - your sensitive clit - your throat - just everywhere because Nanami can’t get enough of you. And you can do nothing but buck up deliriously as he speeds up his pace. Ramming his thick cock into your sloppy pussy deeper and deeper. “You’re mine, y’know that? All mine. And anyone with eyes can see that.”

Several things happen at once, you let out a strangled moan as Nanami changes his angle to hit that one spot he knew so well. Flushed tip hitting it over and over until you were sure it was bruising. As bruising at the hand kneading your ass, swiftly coming down. Hard. 

Smack!

Nanami’s large handprint sears into your skin. And through the haze, he soothes his hand over the sting. Starting to draw slow, languid circles on your swollen clit like a little apology - but that doesn’t mean he’s going to be any nicer. Not at all - in fact, before you can react, he’s touching any and every inch of skin once more, making sure to leave pretty lil’ marks for days.

And he has to fight that loud, carnal part of himself that just wants to ruin you under his hands here forever, but no - Nanami needs everyone else to see as well. See how you’re so beautifully his.

Smack! 

“So pretty f’me, my girl. All f’me.”

“Yes! Ah- yes yes yes. S’all for you, Kento oh-” you moan brokenly like a mantra. A raw little ah! ah! ah! Leaving your swollen lips each time his twitching balls smack your ass, so wet and sloppy with your slick. You’re sure they leave a mark every time his achingly hard cock bullies into your snug cunt, dipping in and out in and out in and-

“Yeah? Then you’re gonna cum f’me, too, pretty girl?”

“Yes- ah-” Hand on your clit frenzied now, hips out of control. Breath hot against your ear while he holds you down in a bruising grip. So very filthy and all his-

And then you’re cumming. Jolts of electricity sparking down your spine as you cum so hard that you grab at Nanami’s sculpted back for some - any - semblance of sanity. 

The only things on your mind being how hot and heavy he was fucking you through your high, and the sharp sting on the crook of your neck, his canines digging into your delicate skin.

“F-fuck.” he whispers, muffled in your neck. “Squeezin’ me so tight. Ngh-” hips stuttering and so sloppily still meeting yours. Still fucking rock-hard.

And through your glassy vision you manage to make out the pure pride shining in his eyes as he reads the silent question on your face. 

“Not yet, my girl. I still see some blank spots.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Quiet bully

“Mm, not hngh- stopping until you cum again f’me, pretty girl.”

When Geto is pussydrunk you barely even notice at first.

Because he’s the ever-graceful and suave Geto Suguru, even when he’s ramming into your pretty pussy with reckless abandon. Head thrown back, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead, hands bruising on your hips and pulling you to deeper into his hips as he fucks you from behind. 

The only way you do get an inkling of the fact is because he’s so mean. Geto always is in bed - but right now he’s just bullying you. Long index toying with your swollen clit, quick, maddening little motions to get you off for the nth time tonight. 

“But, Suguru!” you mewl, clawing at the sheets, “C-can’t cum again-”

“You will.” he leans down, breath hot against your ear as he whispers, low and gravelly. His abs are rubbing against your back as he keeps his unforgiving pace, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Because Geto doesn’t get drunk on just your pussy - no, he gets drunk off of all of you and how pretty you are when you’re cumming all for him. 

“C’mon, you do it f’me.” he hums, so mockingly innocent that would’ve almost believed him - if it wasn’t for the way he speeds up on your clit. Throbbing cock twitching inside you at the delicate tears streaking down your face. 

Fingers merciless on your clit, balls smacking against your skin, holding you still as he rams into you over and over-

“S-Suguru!” you let out a strangled gasp, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes as you cum. And oh he loves that cute lil’ expression on your face, the tears clinging on to your lashes and the way your slutty cunt flutters so filthily around him.

You’re lucky you’re turned away from him, because you don’t see the cruel little smile that curls his lips or the excitement flashing in his darkened eyes. Though, maybe it would’ve better prepared you for when he huffs out a fucked-out, “Tha’s my girl. One more- Hngh- one more.”

Your eyes snap open, a broken little sob leaving you because fuck you weren’t going to make it out alive, Geto was going to absolutely ravage you till you’re ruined-

“O-one more.” Geto groans like a mantra. Flattening his feet on the bed to ram into you at a different angle - one he knew would hit you at that one spot that had you gasping and grinding deeper into his throbbing cock. “One more f-fuck, give me one more-”

If you were in a better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed how fucking sloppy and mean Geto was slamming his cock into your snug pussy. And how his sadistic little hums were becoming more and more strained, turning into broken grunts like he was begging you. Begging himself. Still fucking you like an animal, bodyweight pushing yours down, you crushed underneath him. Trying to milk that last, sweet little orgasm out of you.

“Cum f’me once more, my girl.”

And nothing more has to be said before you’re cumming. Again. Eyes scrunching shut in pain and pleasure as you grab at the headboard for some semblance of stability. 

Honestly, you don’t even have to, because Geto’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his heated body. Grunting as your cunt desperately tries to milk him for all he’s worth. Brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. But Geto can’t - won’t right now. Not yet. 

Instead he’s reeling his hips back again, until his angry, red tip was just kissing your sloppy hole. Running on just your cute lil’ whines and the way you were clamping down so deliciously around him. Thrusting in frantic, shallow grinds for now because he was feeling so generous as to ease you into it.

“Suguru! Ah- not again-” you squeal, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. But whatever plea that comes next gets stuck in your throat as your loving boyfriend utters words that have your cunt clenching exhaustively in anticipation. 

“Now the real fun starts.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Please, baby. Please.”

For Choso, it’s hard to not get drunk off of your pretty lil’ cunt. And he gets so whiny and needy when he does. Barely even squeezing his throbbing cock through the first ring of muscle before he thinks he might just see the pearly gates of heaven - and you were an angel. 

You’re just so warm and sloppy on top of him, slick dripping down to his twitching balls, swallowing him up so deliciously. 

“Ah! Ngh- s-slow down-” you whine, head spinning at the pure stretch of him stuffing you full. His twitching balls were pressed against your ass, veins grazing against your plushy walls, pulsing in a maddening thump! thump! thump! that you can feel in your throat. “S’too big, Cho. I don’t think I can-” 

“No!” he gasps into your skin, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed so deceivingly innocently. “Need it s’bad. Need you so bad- Fuck, I can’t stop-” 

Hips moving mindlessly, fucking up in tiny, shallow little thrusts to bully himself inside you. Not even fully inside you, but he was already so out of control. 

The mattress is creaking deafeningly, a lewd little staccato with the squelches from down below. “Choso-” you whimper, torn between clamping down on his swollen cock to suck him up more desperately and running away. 

“Oh- oh baby, f-fuck. Squeezing m’so tight.” he’s groaning into the crook of your neck, strong arms wrapped so tight around your waist that it almost hurt. “Hngh- Don’t think you can run away from me.” And Choso couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to - barely even giving you time to adjust before he’s milking himself on your dripping cunt. 

Cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips each time he rams himself inside deeper and deeper, you were just gushing around him. Pretty pussy taking him so readily despite your protests. “Need this so hngh- fucking badly. Need this need this need this-”

“F-fuck, Cho- Yes, give it t’me.”

Ah, his head was spinning. The only thoughts running through his mind being how sloppy you were, so wet and squeezing him so perfectly - his pretty girl was taking him so well. 

Blindly, Choso shifts onto his forearms, head craning to graze his lips along the seam of your mouth . Mind too hazy to kiss you properly like he wanted to - but it’s fine, he’ll kiss you silly after this. Fuck, he muses, balls squeezing painfully, just as soon as he cums. 

And you can do nothing more than take it as he chokes out low little moans of your name. Head spinning because his cock was so big and he wasn’t stopping - just wanting to fuck your tight pussy until he-

“Ngh- c-can’t fucking take it anymore, baby. Need to fucking cum.” he grunts, tearing springing to his eyes, sounding like he’s losing a bit of his sanity every time his heavy balls smack your ass. And he needed you to, too - ringed fingers snaking down to draw harsh, frenzied little patterns on your swollen clit. Not even circles because shit Choso doesn’t have the time for that - just wanting to have you gasping and seeing stars as soon as possible. 

“Cho, m’c-close. Ah! Ngh, m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum-” you keen, hips bucking up wildly for more more more- And oh it’s like Choso’s favorite song, because his throbbing cock is twitching inside you so deliciously, thrusts sloppy and unfocused, thumb aching with how fast it was on your clit. 

“Me too, baby. Hngh- m-me too.” he gasps into your open mouth, movements only getting faster and faster and-

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes, and Choso’s hips stuttering - so desperate, so filthy as he shoots thick, hot spurts of cum into your snug cunt. Fucking his seed deeper and deeper into you mindlessly. 

And he can’t stop - he won’t. But you absolutely love it. Because you’ve barely blinked the haze from your eyes before he’s pulling away ever-so-slightly, a hand pushing away the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Breaths ragged, voice hoarse. 

“Not enough, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Sober thoughts

They say drunk minds speak sober thoughts, and oh how Sukuna wishes that wasn’t the case when he’s fucking you dumb. How he wishes he could stop the strained little grunts that escape him each time his heavy balls smack your ass. 

“Kuna- Ngh- s’too much, c-can’t anymore-”

How he wishes he wasn’t drunk off your cute lil’ whines, and that fucked-out expression on your face as he rams his cock into your pretty pussy. Plunging into your heavenly cunt again and again and- It was too fucking much for him. 

Because it makes him wish he didn’t lean down, whispering softly in your ear, “You can do it, angel. Hah- I I know you will. Hngh- That pretty cunt is made f’me, always taking me so good-”

Ah, you clench so obscenely around his thick cock, shivers running down your spine. Milking him so obscenely as his weeping tip hits your poor cervix over and over. 

“W-wha-?” you blink tearily at him, voice shot. Trying to grasp reality because usually, Sukuna would usually tell you to shut up and fucking take it like the good lil’ slut you are. And if you were in a better state of mind you’d almost be embarrassed at the way he holds such power over you, just a few words of praise and you’re already turning into his personal plaything. 

He huffs out in frustration, leaning down to lick a long, lazy stripe up your cheek, gathering the big fat tears rolling down it on his tongue. And you can’t even think of bringing yourself to be disgusted, because this is Sukuna and he’s always so filthy and mean. 

Except right now, being mean is the last thing on his mind. Murmuring out a strained little “Don’t act so surprised. You know you always milk my cock so well.” drinking in your cute little whimpers. “Shit- like yer trynna suck the s-soul out of me. Never met someone so fucking perfect f’me-”

He thinks he could almost cum right here right now when he sees you snaking down a hand to play with your swollen clit. “But Kuna~” Such an adorable pout appearing on your face when he gently smacks that hand away. Sukuna just wants to kiss it off your swollen lips.

And he does - licking hotly at the seam of your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip while you keen into his. It’s messy - all teeth and spit and adoration. 

Because you might not see it with your eyes half-lidded from the ecstasy, but Sukuna is looking at you with such nauseating heart-eyes. Ones he’d vehemently deny later, of course. But for now he settles for groping a hand down your pretty body, one, long finger rubbing unhurried little circles on your throbbing, achy clit. 

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head.”

So different from his unforgiving cock. All push and pull as he fucks you like his sextoy, but kisses you like his God. 

“Ah! Jus’ like that, feels so f-fucking good-” you’re a teary, whimpering mess underneath him. 

“Mhm? Feels s’good, huh?” he groans gutturally. Letting you buck wildly underneath him because shit you look so pretty being all desperate and needy for him. “Squeezin’ me s’tight. Fucking heavenly you are, you’re gonna pay for it if I cum early, angel.”

Your eyes snap open at his delirious confession and the way he seems well and fully intent on breaking you - and talking you nicely through it. It was making your head spin, especially at the way Sukuna get more and more out of control, all sloppy movements and even sloppier words. Slurring out little praises while he stuffed your ravaged cunt faster. Deeper. Pure, carnal need where he usually toyed with you so cruelly. Closer and-

“Cum for me, angel.”

You think you cum at the first word out of his mouth, because you’re seeing stars behind your eyes before Sukuna even finishes the sentence. And he’s not far behind - giving you one, final harsh thrust before filling you up in thick ropes of cum. It gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy as he keeps fucking into you like some animal. Letting out little mutters of how fucking beautiful you were and how heavenly your cunt is and-

And, well, by the time he’s collapsing into your ready arms, Sukuna might not be so pussydrunk anymore. But by God it doesn’t stop the way he nuzzles your hair softly. 

Pulling your sweaty body close to his, so fucked-out and exhausted. So fucking debauched with the way his cum gushes out of you. Hot and sticky, seeping into the sheets and pooling in the nonexistent space between you two. 

So very, very his. 

♡ GOJO SATORU - Shut up!

Gojo Satoru doesn’t shut up - not even when he’s stuffing his cock into your pretty pussy, and especially not when he’s drunk off of the heavenly feeling. Off the sight of you - all swollen lips fallen into a soft oh!, eyes glassy and miles away, so debauched and pretty underneath him - he just has to let you know.

“Look at you. Fucking perfect. Gonna fuck you till I can’t anymore.” he murmurs wetly. “Gonna make it feel so good f’you. Gonna have y’milk my cock until there’s nothing to milk.”

And Gojo swears he isn’t pussydrunk - but the way he’s babbling into your tits says otherwise. Looking up at you through his long lashes with dazed, hooded eyes, words muffled around your tit but still he keeps running his mouth. 

“Hngh- S’fucking tight and hot around me.” he murmurs, hips snapping to meet yours, milking himself mindlessly on your snug cunt. So hard that it almost hurt at the sting of skin-on-skin. “God, could stay like this f-forever.”

He was getting so loud now. Mixing with the sloppy squelches from below.

“You could, too, huh? Drunk on my cock enough to? Y’look like it-”

That makes your cheeks heat up. “Satoru-” You scramble to hastily cover Gojo’s mouth, stopping that sweet sweet voice from saying the most filthy things. You can feel his smug little grin underneath your fingertips, and you almost know what’s coming- before he licks a long, amused stripe up your palm.

Snatching your hand back, you sigh - as best you could when your boyfriend was ramming his thick cock inside you - “Satoru! What did I say about-”

“But you make it so easy, sweetheart.” he whines, hands roaming all over your body. Gripping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach before resting at your swollen clit. Pooling your sweet juices on his fingertips, drawing featherlight circles around the nub like he was trying to convince you. “Don’t lie. Y’like this big mouth. Love it even.”

Unlike Gojo - it’s hard to get your words out when he’s bullying his cock into your dripping cunt. Ramming into you over and over-

“Admit it. Don’t you love it? Love hearing me talk fucking filthy to you like this?” His words were coming out fast now, mixing with your cute whines and the heady air of the room. Each one punctuated by a brutal, harsh into your dripping cunt. 

Fingers working magic on your sensitive clit while his cock ravages you below. And the great Gojo Satoru does not give a fuck about your hushed whispers about how your neighbours are home or how “this is the fifth time they’ve complained.”

Because his girl’s pretty lil’ cunt is fucking perfect and he needs you to know.

Gojo presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. Thrusts growing more and more careless. Losing his sanity with each stroke - with each word that comes out of his mouth. “I know you like it.” he groans, “I can see it in your eyes, n’ the way this slutty lil’ pussy squeezes me so fucking tight.”

Dragging - not pushing - you both closer to the edge. Frantic now, syllables slurring together and Gojo’s hips stuttering into yours. Drunk off of you and your cunt and the way he can’t stop talking and talking and-

“Yes,” your words were a barely audible whisper - but Gojo hears. Of course, he does. “I love it. Fucking love it, Toru.”

And then he’s cumming - and cumming so hard that Gojo thinks he’ll never be able to stop. Not, that he’d ever want to.

Because Gojo keeps pumping the thick, hot spurts of cum oozing out of him into your sloppy pussy. And shit you look so pretty underneath him, his seed dribbling down your thighs, eyes fluttering shut as you cream around his cock. And, of course, he has to let you know - babbling about how cute you were milking his cock and how warm and wet.

And Gojo’s still running his mouth as he pulls out, over your disappointed little mewl. All the way down till he’s swiftly centered between your open legs. Breath fanning your cunt, a devilish grin curling his lips.

“Time to help you remember exactly how much you love this big mouth.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[daylighted]

dean winchester x angel!reader — kissing lessons.

or, the defenses are down, the blockades shattered, and you dont know how to kiss. or, let dean help you.

cw, 18+, MDNI! dean talks you through it for real this time. backseat sex LOL. fluffy smut? lowkey subby dean hehehe. no protection yell @ them not me.

word count: 5.6k

notes, dean gets to be his full freak self here hehehe. everyone say ur welcome since i've been being HOUNDED SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIMEMEEEEMEEEE TO POST THIS. unfortunately for all of u this is the planned conclusion to their tale </3 don't crucify me. u legally can't since i'm giving u this.

★ ˚⋆

things were... a little awkward, after you saved dean's life with a kiss. like passion drove you over the edge, a desperate need to save him and to do it any way possible, that was the only time that you managed to kiss him right.

and he didn't — well, he kind of judged you for it. just little laughs, when you'd lean in to try and kiss him and end up flushing and sinking backwards. it was cute. sure, it did mean he wasn't getting any action anytime soon, and every bedtime kiss you promised him ended up becoming a bedtime smack for him laughing at your struggle, but hey, you guys just had a different dynamic.

he still thought you were the prettiest thing to ever grace earth. just because you didn't know how to kiss properly didn't mean he was going to suddenly stop being interested. it just opened doors to getting to teach you.

sam stayed back at the motel while dean volunteered to go on a drink run. it was one of those nights; a roundabout case that the both of them knew was going to keep them up looking for the slightest detail in the research that could alter their investigation for the better. sam needed a beer, dean wanted a beer, and you wanted whiskey.

literally. girl of his dreams, he'd thought. still thinks.

plus, you love car rides. dean had not let you back behind the wheel since the last time, and you didn't seem to want to try again either, more than content to sit and look pretty in the seat next to him.

the nearest liquor tour in whatever small town you guys were camping out in for the night was a good few miles away, and so he got to play all of his cards in one fell swoop. hand on your thigh, fingers trailing up the seams of your jeans, tracing with his nail on the inside of your palm.

you were squirming. he loved when you squirmed.

his fingers are just at the inside of your thigh, long enough to have gently walked their way over like they owned the place ( he did, you didn't know it yet ) and rest easily. that is the moment you speak up, those narrowed eyes locked on his in a glare.

"stop that."

dean's eyebrows flick up. he spares a single glance toward you, the picture of innocence written into the marrow of his sinful bones. "stop what?"

"you're touching me."

he hums to himself for a moment, eyes turned toward the stoplight he'd rolled up to. "could be touching you more."

"no."

dean huffs out a laugh. "are you scared of my hands, dove?" even as he says it, his hand moves again, to the safety of your thigh. "you know they'd never hurt you."

your eyes roll furiously. you grab his wrist and practically throw his hand onto the gearstick. "your hands are not sentient beings and cannot make that choice for you."

dean's gotten really receptive to you, over these past few weeks. what your expressions meant in the rare times that you didn't voice your confusion, what your body language said, and so now he's confident that he knows what you're feeling right now. your hands are clenched tightly in your lap, purposely not touching him, fisted so tightly that they shake a little. your eyes are facing forward without budging, even though he knows that his gaze is burning into the side of your face.

the stoplight illuminates your face in a green glow. "it's a green light," you say without turning to look at him, and that pretty much confirms it for dean. you're afraid. afraid, embarrassed, and not wanting to tell him any of it. "so go."

dean's jaw clenches as he restrains a frown behind the cage of his teeth. the absolute last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you had to hide away from him, keeping every one of those thoughts locked away in your inexperienced, curious head.

the car rolls into drive again, passing the parking lot for the liquor store. he sees it out of the corner of his eye; the way your head cocks to the side, your lip between your teeth while you try to figure out what he was doing. you could ask. he wanted you to ask. whatever was eating at you was keeping all of his pretty girl's first thoughts from him.

he pulls off on the side of the road and cuts the engine, leaving the both of you in darkness except for the moonlight pouring in through the windshield.

dean nods toward the backseat. "hop on back there, sweet girl," he says with a sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the driver's seat. you don't move. he props himself in the doorway with an unmoved expression. "c'mon. it's late. don't wanna have to tell you twice."

the way your face twists up in annoyance is exactly what he wanted to see. good. anything but that weariness that had marred your features. he slips into the backseat, shuts the door behind him, before your door opens.

seconds later, you're dropping into the seat next to dean. he turns on the leather to face you better, his hand coming up to brush the hair out of your face. "you know you can talk to me, right? i act like an ass all the time, i know, but you don't have to lock yourself away."

your face goes pink at his words. that angry twitch of your nose makes an appearance, and it's all dean can do not to break into a wider grin. knowing that something so delicate could also be so wicked was an enticing thought all in itself.

"it's embarrassing."

"so what?" his lips twist as his shoulders raise in a shrug. "who's gonna judge you? me? be serious, dove."

your nose twitches again, mouth in a tight scowl. "you would definitely judge me."

"that's how i know you're feelin' all insecure up there," dean says, tapping your temple with his finger, "because you know that's not true. i know that's not true."

you growl, actually growl, and dean wants nothing more than to grab you by the hand and tug your mouth onto his. even if you don't kiss him back, he wants to kiss you. your furious frustration was a common occurrence around him, but that didn't mean it got any less attractive.

"when you touch me," you grit out through your clenched teeth, your hands fisted in your lap like you might hit him. hell, he'd have taken the punch right then, if it kept you talking. "i feel things."

dean blinks twice in quick succession. "and?" you do hit him square in the shoulder. your hands carry much more of a punch than he could have predicted. he lets out a little oof, his lips pursing with his lack of amusement. "it's a serious question!"

"i can't say." you look adamant, your frustration so pretty on your features, and dean's a bit dazed. "it's embarrassing," you repeat, and dean gets it. or, he thinks he does.

one corner of his mouth quirks again, his cheek dimpling. the hand on your face falls to your thighs again, fingers lightly dancing on the inner seam of your jeans. "here?"

your hand raises to punch him again, and he knows he's right; catches it just in time before you can bruise that spot on his shoulder. "well, i can't leave you feelin' all hot and bothered, can i?"

"i am not hot," you scoff out almost in disgust at the suggestion, and dean does laugh, then. you were so hot it was ridiculous, but alright. "but i am very bothered."

"lucky for you," dean murmurs, his hand releasing your wrist and moving to your jaw, turning your head to look at him again, "i am very good at handlin' bothered girls." he leans in, brushes his lips against yours. "angels, i should say."

dean can feel you retreating already at the slight touch of his lips, but now he knows that it's not because you don't want to kiss him, or don't want what he's offering. you're afraid of it like the feelings will bite you, nervous to feel the full extent of it. his fingers hold your jaw more firmly.

"now, i'm not gonna ask," he says, driven further by the soft sound of your breath catching, "since you're feeling a little trigger happy right now... but i think it's time my little dove has herself some kissing lessons."

to his surprise, you don't hit him again. you just stare into his eyes with such earnest honesty that it's his turn to lose his breath. you trusted him so much. he wanted to show you just how much it meant to him; let you watch as he cradled your heart in his hands.

the distance closes in a second between your mouths, the brush of his slow and languid against yours, judging your reactions. your kiss is hesitant, and then suddenly you're pressing further into him, the force of it almost bruising when you don't move your lips. he pulls back enough to look into your eyes.

dean's finger comes up to pinch your lips closed, smiling softly as he does. "don't have to try n' bite my face off, honey, i promise," he chides without any malice in his words, taking advantage of the gentle grasp he had on your lips to lean in again. he kisses you slowly again, deliberate in the way his mouth moves, so you could figure it out.

your fingers uncurl in your lap and move to his shirt, twisting the soft cotton lightly. that's when he releases your lips, his hand shifting to cup your cheek in his palm. dean's thumb traces reassuringly on your cheekbone.

when your mouth opens this time, it's less like you're trying to sink your teeth into him and more like an invitation. dean knew you were a quick learner; had from the moment he'd let you behind baby's wheel. seeing it action like this, with your hands in his shirt and your tongue swiping across his, was on another level.

his free hand reaches for your hands one at a time, his touch on your wrist light as he lifts your fingers to his hair. he has to force his mouth away from yours, has to pull away from the taste of your tongue. "i know how much you wanna yank my hair out," dean teases, letting go of your hand to let you take over, "so go ahead n' pull, baby."

you look between his eyes again with that same open look, and he's sure he's melting right there into the leather backseat. "really?"

dean laughs. "yeah, really." he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours. "matter of fact, touch anywhere you want, baby. this is all for you. so y'can get outta that head of yours."

something flashes in your eyes at that. he doesn't know what it was - the offer or the idea - that caught your attention, but he's intrigued, too. one of your hand drops from his hair to his shirt again, this time at the waist of it.

he's a little dazed, admittedly, as you untuck it from being bunched up in the waist of his jeans. it's intense to have your eyes on him while you pull his shirt up until it catches on his extended arms.

"took the first chance y'could to get me naked, huh?" dean asks, even as his voice comes out more strained than it'd been before, his jeans suddenly feeling just as tight.

you use your elbow to nudge his arms up, and he raises his hands in defense at your sudden act of authority before he lifts them. then, you've got his shirt off, tossing it behind your back. "shut up."

"there's my girl," he murmurs, hooking his finger in your belt loop and tugging you closer. maybe he was moving too fast. maybe he knew you'd adapt quickly.

and you do. he never doubted you for a second. your hand rests on his cheek, guiding him back into a kiss, more confidently than any of your kisses had been so far. your fingers tangle in his hair, and dean has to physically bite back on the groan in his throat.

he takes advantage of his hold on your jeans to start unfastening them. you're so good for him, a perfect match, because you don't even know what you're doing but your hips are lifting so he can start pulling them down.

dean breaks the kiss with a pop of your mouths, and the growl you let out goes straight to the hardening cock trapped in his jeans. he doesn't want to move so fast, but you've always been a little cruel like this, tempting him in ways that he should have been stronger to resist. there was no resistance now.

he hooks his arm under your legs to turn you in the seat, draping them across his lap. he unties your boots for you, pulling them off and setting them on the floor of the backseat. then, he's grabbing the bunched denim on your thighs and tugging until they're off. dean has more care with your clothes than you did with his. he'd always treat everything about you as gently as glass, setting them on the middle console between the front seats.

you look at him for a second, like you're trying to gauge the situation you've both found yourselves in. pulled over on the side of the road like teenagers that couldn't wait, stripping each other naked in the backseat. it'd be laughable if you didn't look so vulnerable. for the second time that night, dean realized how big the trust you had in him was, and he didn't want to do a thing to mess it up.

"lemme get this off of you, yeah?" he asks, his hands moving to the bottom of your shirt. he meets your gaze for confirmation; gets a single nod. "it means a lot, y'know," he continues on, trying to keep you out of the black hole that was your worries, as he pulls your shirt up and over your head, "that you're trusting me with this. all of it."

"don't start," you whine, your hands moving to your eyes, covering your face. dean grabs your wrists and pulls them apart, moving your arms out of the way so he could properly see you. "hey!"

dean's lips pull into a small smile. "hi."

"this is a lot," you say, and his smile softens considerably, "i don't know what to do now."

dean lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "whatever you wanna do. this is all you, baby, i'm just here to provide." he rests his large palm on your kneecap, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin. "we can stop. you can kiss me again, or punch me again, if that's what you want. we can get dressed again, get what we actually came for..."

"no." you blink a few times before you shake your head. "i don't want to stop, i..."

dean's not a patient man. he's used to time limits and counting his days. but in this backseat with you, he's certain time has stopped just for the both of you. he feels the world at his disposal, like every bit of time existed like pieces of sand in his palms.

when you realize he is, for once, not going to interrupt you, and not try and put thoughts in place of your feelings, you huff. "i do not know what to do from here."

dean grabs for one of your discarded hands, holding your fingers in his lap. "do you want us to be on equal ground?" he asks, nodding down at himself. you were in nothing but undergarments; he still had his jeans on. "and then we can figure it out from there?"

your smile is beautiful in its hesitance. "okay."

"okay like you want my pants off, or okay like you'd just feel better if we were both freezin' our asses off back here?" dean teases, even as he shifts a little in the cramped space to start taking off his jeans.

your huff is practically a wordless grumble in itself. "why do you want me to spell things out?"

"i want you comfortable, dove," he says, the waistband of his jeans paused at his thighs, "there's no pressure here at all. if there's pressure, then it's not fun anymore."

you think on it for a second. dean watches your expression shift with your feelings and acceptance. "you may continue."

"oh, mama's bossy now, is she?"

you grab a handful of the leg of his jeans and yank. "shut up."

"yes, ma'am."

you wad up his discarded jeans and toss them at him in a ball of denim. "shut up."

"you're so pretty when you're mad, honey," dean mumbles, using his grip on your hand to tug you forward. you stumble a little in the small space, falling into his lap. "come n' make me shut up."

your eyes are narrowed on him as you shift to make yourself comfortable. your leg tosses over his thighs, settling into his lap. his breath hitches in his throat at the feel of your heat through both of the thin undergarments on you, and from the look in your eyes, the evidence of his own arousal has made itself prominent against you, too.

you look like you might say something. you don't. your hands grab him by his face and drag him in for another kiss. he actually chokes on a noise in his throat at the suddenness, and he thinks he might love you. knows he does, but has never felt the intensity of it quite like this before.

dean's mouth opens to let you in, craving the taste of you again. your tongue meets his instantly, lapping against each other's in a languid slow dance. he's content like this. he could stop here, and go back to the motel with or without the alcohol and use this memory here of your tongue in his mouth while you sat all pretty in his lap to get himself off, and be perfectly fine.

but if there was one thing that you were full of, it was surprises. his little whiskey drinking, praise adoring, bossy angel. your fingers fall between the both of your bodies and rest on his hard on through his boxers, and dean looses a shuddering breath.

you pull away from his mouth with his saliva on your lips. dean's head falls back onto the headrest of the backseat with a groan. "you told me i could touch," you say, your innocent voice so out of place with your devilish hands.

"i did," dean says, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. "didn't expect you to go for the gold immediately, though."

your answering smile is the prettiest thing he's ever seen. the moon sits high in the sky outside of the window, glowing and whitecast down onto you.

a halo of your own making.

dean thinks he's going to die.

you raise your hips off of him for the time being, your light touch teasing and electric at once. dean grasps that hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing each of your fingertips. "here," he says quietly, his other hand going to your waist. he traces over your ribcage lightly before he closes his fingers over your side.

he pulls you closer, lets you grind against the swell in his boxers. he groans, your breath hitches with a little whine, and he's sure, then, that he'll die like this.

"you like that?" dean asks you, dipping his head to get a better look at your eyes. you look dazed, a little drunk, and dean wants to see those pretty eyes glimmer and glisten.

he lifts you up again by your thigh, just enough to slide his boxers off of him as gently as he can. the space is cramped, and it's finally starting to feel like it.

dean's done this plenty of times, but there's something about your gaze that makes him feel more vulnerable than he ever has before. he's naked underneath you; you, who has never done anything like this before, and he feels more exposed than you seem to.

it's like a game, now. when he does something, you do it, like you don't want to fall behind in this back and forth. your hips stay up, and it's more awkward for you to tug your panties off, but you manage it with a few lifts of your legs, and a kick that sends them, somehow, into the driver's seat.

you laugh. it's breathtaking.

dean helps you settle back on his thighs, and it's all he can do to not fall apart there. you're warm, you're wet enough that he feels it on his legs, and all he wants to do is make you feel even better than you do now.

"green light?" dean asks, lifting his eyes to look at you again, and not at all of the skin bared to him. he doesn't want to overwhelm you with how intense he must be staring at you, but you're mesmerizing. perfection in the form of a wingless angel sat on his lap.

you blink a couple of times before the realization settles in. "go?"

"i'm askin' you, dove," he says in answer, hand going to the back of your neck to pull you closer, to press a kiss to your forehead. "red light or green light?"

your face is so close to his, but dean can see the melted expression in your eyes. instead of answering, you press a kiss to his mouth again. he's glad you like it, now that you know how to do it. he could handle kissing you over and over, but your lips kissing him back is something he was already getting addicted to.

on his mouth, you whisper, "green light."

dean blinks, now. his teeth drag your bottom lip back lightly until it pops back into place. "yeah?"

at your nod, he sits up a little better, his arms snaking around your waist. once he's got a good grip on you, he moves the both of you so that he's sprawled beneath you in the backseat, fully extended. he doesn't fit, his legs bent a little as his back presses into the door, but it's fine. everything is fine when he has you. plus, his bent knees only draws you closer to him.

"i promise this is the last time i'm gonna do this to you," he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, lifting you off of his thighs again. "just say red light if it's too much, okay?"

"okay."

it's more gentle than he's ever been, the way he spreads your legs open a little more, the way he lines the aching length of his cock up with your waiting entrance. just the brush of the tip against the wetness of your folds could make him crumble.

dean pushes up enough to just barely rest inside of you, giving you the moment to adjust. your gasp is small, breathless. he stops instantly, his hand on your thigh loosening its grip. your face twists into a frown. "i didn't say red light," you grumble through the pout, and he's always been a sucker for that little pout, as much as he is for when you sink your teeth into the puffy lip.

his laugh is warm, free hand raising in surrender again. "sorry, baby, jus' lookin' out for you."

you start to sink down further on him yourself with nothing but his hand in guidance. your eyes are wide, your lips parted in a soundless 'o', but you don't tell him to stop, and he trusts you enough to know that you would, if you needed it. he couldn't helicopter monitor you just because he was afraid of breaking the pretty thing he'd grown so attached to.

it's a tight fit, being inside of you. he can feel every bit of your walls expanding to fit him, and he tries not to groan, tries to not get too ahead of himself, but goddamn. months of fantasizing about this, of denying himself those same fantasies out of fear of ruining the trust you were building between each other, comes nowhere near the reality of how it feels to have you in his arms.

your head drops to press against his, and dean's unable to resist the way he leans up to peck a kiss to your mouth. a quick one, light and easy, that you take as a sign to deepen. your teeth scrape his lip, your tongue explores the expanse of his mouth, and dean takes this distraction from the discomfort he knew you were feeling to push the rest of the way inside of you.

you whine on his lips, and he kisses away the little noises. "i know," dean mumbles on your mouth, "it's okay."

the red light is unspoken, but he's not about to push you, or overstep anyways. you trace shapes with your fingertips on his bare chest, worrying at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"green light," you say after a few moments, and a few more soft kisses from him in the crook of your shoulder.

dean nods, leaving a last lingering kiss on your collarbone before he shifts enough to properly start to move inside of you. the thrusts are shallow and gentle, letting you get a feel for it, letting you adjust to his size.

your forehead drops to rest on his shoulder, each little whimper twisting at his heart, even if the sounds of them were beginning to get louder and less strained.

"feelin' better?" he asks, all of the strain from your voice stolen and bottled up in his. the way that you squeeze around him has all of his rational thought fogging, and it takes a conscious effort to be gentle with you. this wasn't about dean; it was about you.

you nod once, your hair tickling at his chest. he's about to keep up the slow pace, to keep going as gently as possible, until you sit up a little straighter and start to meet each of his thrusts with a grind of your hips. dean's head knocks against the passenger window, his breath leaving his mouth in a shudder.

you must like it, too, because you let out a breathless laugh. you grab his hands and hold his fingers between yours, letting them fall to rest on his stomach. it's that game again; you doing something to keep up with what he's doing.

dean grins as he watches you, the tight expression on your face melding into something a little more wild and free. he's never seen you like this. he'd take a picture if he wasn't absolutely certain that you and him were gonna do this again.

again, he moves your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles this time, his groan reverberating through your fingers. you match him so easily, like you were made for whatever he gave to you. your increasing confidence makes him feel comfortable enough to speed up, his other arm braced on the back of the seats for stability as he rolls his hips deeper into you.

your head tips backwards with the first real moan he's ever heard out of you. your reckless abandon is utterly disarming. he sits up straighter, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist, holding you pressed against him as he buries himself inside of you.

your hands tremble as they lock onto his face, holding it to be nose to nose with him. you're panting on his mouth, and he can't stop staring at your lips, and he's so deep inside of you that he can feel the tip against your cervix, deep enough to make a rough groan slip out of his throat.

there was no need for kissing lessons. you would have figured it out on your own, dean's sure of it, with how you tilt his head back to suck his top lip between yours, tongue languid against his.

it's embarrassing how close he is to coming already. how couldn't he? he was enamored, transfixed, and getting this little taste of you was intoxicating. your fingers move from his cheeks to his jaw, clawing at his lip, tugging the bottom one down as you ride him.

he lets you. he'd let you do anything.

dean's thumb finds it's way between your legs, slipping between your slick folds to rub gentle circles into your clit. your thighs clench around his, grinding your hips down further onto his, against his hand.

his head tilts up to capture your mouth again, wanting to taste each moan that you let out, to swallow your pleasure and keep it to himself, where no one else can ever see it. each of those shuddering moans gets louder, more frantic, and he knows you're close.

"dean," you whisper into his mouth, and dean wants to hear his name said like this every time from you, now. breathless, desperate, and as needy as he felt.

he thumbs more deliberately at the swollen nub, pressing a final kiss to your mouth before he works little hot kisses down your jaw, your neck. "dean, i--"

"it's okay," his voice is as rough as gravel. "that's how it's supposed to feel." he knows your head like his own, knows from the frenzied breath into his shoulder that you're going to come, and that it must be a little much, trying to live through those feelings and try to figure them out. "it's supposed to, okay? jus' let go, i've got you."

dean would always have you. he loved you too much to let go.

that thought is what breaks his resolve. his thrusts become more sloppy, harder than he should probably be with you, but he loves you, and it's ruining him to not show it, or tell you. the car is thick with hot air, the windows are foggy, his skin is sticking to the leather seats, but he loves you.

you come apart on top of him with the moonlight still bathing you in a halo's glow. your hips still, your fingers claw at his face, scratching red marks into his stubble, and you cry out a moan against his lips.

he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. his hips stutter to a stop inside of you, a gasping groan punctuating his pants into the column of your throat, his cock twitching inside of you as his cum fills you. he'd worry about that later. or maybe he wouldn't. he didn't care about anything in the world besides how much he loves you.

dean doesn't realize he's whispering it out loud until he registers that pretty laugh of yours.

your hair is stuck to your forehead, your skin glassy with sweat in the pale moonlight, and the halo of the moon still hangs above your head. you're the most divine thing he's ever seen, the closest to divinity he's ever let himself be.

"you love me?" you ask, your eyes so sweet and so warm as they watch him.

dean leans up to kiss each corner of your mouth. "where'd you get that impression?"

he can never tell when you'll be matter-of-fact or when you'll play around. he forgets sometimes all of the things he's taught you, every bad idea you've got wedged in your mind because of his influence. dean winchester never wanted to corrupt you or your innocence, but he knew he'd always end up pulling you into the dark with him. you were stuck together, after all, now that he'd embedded himself to you for saving his life.

"i had a hunch." your head tilts up pridefully, chin jutted out. the act is cute while it lasts but falls apart instantly when you start to laugh again. dean's never heard you laugh so much since you'd met. how'd he get so lucky?

the car ride back to the motel is peaceful, the frigid air conditioning blasting to try and clear the fog from the windows and cool the sweat on your skin. the entire time, dean's hand is on your thigh, and the entire time, you don't move it. the moon follows his angel out the window the entire drive, like it knows, too, that you were as divine as beings could be.

sam calls two miles from the motel. "everything okay?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice. "it's been at least an hour. i didn't think you could get lost on a beer trip in this town."

beer. liquor store. alcohol run. it all comes back to dean now that his head is a little more clear.

"oh," is all dean can say for a few seconds, gaze flickering over to you in the passenger seat. you pick at the threads on his jacket he'd given to you, head downturned to unsuccessfully hide your laugh, "got sidetracked. we'll be back in twenty or so."

it was sam's turn to be silent. his following laugh is more like a scoff than anything else. "jesus christ, dean."

"blame dove," dean cackles into the speaker, eyes fond as he glances over at you again. he makes a (definitely illegal) u-turn at the same stoplight that acted as the tipping point for the night's event back in the direction of the liquor store. "she's the one who needed taught how to kiss."

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4jackles @deanswidow @deansbite @whisperingwillowxox @bombarda-babe @whyyouegg @loverslantern @bitchykittenconnoisseur @jensenacklesantidote @keira-kaz2y5 @sthefferrete @depressionbarbie2023 @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @bleuatlas @minettacreekk @moonstruksandco @moodyquesadilla @severe-mental-illness @cevansbaby-dove @deansbeer @bluestrd @mccartneyqp @im-bili @chevroletdean @angelblqde @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @momoewn @globetrotter28 @starzify @jackleslvr @ryngzmn @aileenunfiltered @beausling @frosttbitessam @amberlthomas

[sweetshuga]

CS ✧ Simple solution ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

Contains⚠︎ Smut!, threesome!, strong language!, polyamory, suggestive remarks, pet names (ma, pretty), degrading words (whore, slut) + lowkey degradation kink, oral (m! & f! receiving), handjob, p in v (unprotected, do not), some kinda kink with looking alike? No incest! (don't fw that shit), etc. ⚠︎

wc. 827

i/n. I don't mind writing y/n as reader's referred term but like... I've bad, bad, bad memories of the term y/n, like i cringe every time I see it and it's all because of wattpad. Therefore, i'll forever use ma and pretty, thank you<3

psa. English is not my first language! Initial idea! (turned out kinda different.)

Loud moans echoed throughout the room, only to get muffled a few seconds later. "Fuck—stop squirming, ma." Chris grunted as he surged forward, "can’t, fuck... fully go in," he muttered, holding your hips tightly. A second pair of hands gripped your waist and helped to keep you still.

The sensation of Chris filling you up from behind and Matt from the front made you feel overwhelmed. Matt chuckled breathlessly, sensing your difficulty breathing, as he took his length out of your mouth—making you gasp for air. 𓆩♡𓆪

"Y’think we look alike right now?" You looked up from your phone, seeing them in very similar outfits and hats on backwards. "Holy fuck, you actually kinda do," you laughed as you stood up from Matt’s bed, walking closer to them.

"Matt’s hair has grown out a lot, kid needs a new haircut," Chris commented, "but that’s what makes you two look more similar." Your added comment made them momentarily freeze. "Y’think so?" Matt chuckled, fixing his hat, earning a nudge from Chris. "C’mon, don’t steal my haircut."

"Your haircut?" Chris laughed slightly, "yeah, mine," he said grinning, purposely trying to annoy him. "You really do need a haircut though, I like yours shorter," you said, making Matt grin, "yeah? y’like mine shorter, pretty?" His voice dropped into a lower tone, stepping closer to you.

𓆩♡𓆪

You found yourself, somehow, kissing Matt passionately. Your clothes discarded on his bedroom floor and Chris kissing down your body. You’ve no idea what triggered them to suddenly do what they were doing, but it’s not like you were complaining.

Matt groaned in annoyance as his hair kept getting all up in his face, running a frustrated hand through it as he broke the kiss. He saw Chris still keeping his cap on despite his – otherwise – naked state. An idea popped up in Matt’s head as he reached for his own discarded hat, putting it on backwards just like Chris.

You didn’t even realize Matt’s hat as Chris started to eat you out with such sudden force that you couldn’t control your moans. Matt chuckled as he saw the scene, guiding your hand towards his aching dick. You barely kept yourself from squirming as Chris went on, your hand pumping Matt’s length while your other hand clutched onto Chris’ hair.

Chris’ left hand held your right leg down onto the bed while his right hand pumped himself—all while eating you out like he was starving, slurping and sucking loudly. Matt helped Chris by holding down your other leg, making you moan louder as they held you down, unable to move away from the intense pleasure.

Your gaze wandered over to Matt from Chris, seeing them looking so similar made your pussy throb for some reason. Chris smirked against your folds when he gazed up and saw that Matt had worn his own hat in a similar way as him.

"Fuck, you’ve a thing for lookalikes or sum’, ma?" Chris chuckled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why? s’she getting wetter?" Chris’ gaze left yours and onto Matt’s as he nodded with that shit-eating grin, "yeah, so wet." Matt chuckled, making your face flush in embarrassment.

They exchanged a knowing look, already planning on doing this again as they adjusted their hats.

𓆩♡𓆪 Your gasps eventually turned into moans as Chris fucked you relentlessly, "so fucking good," he groaned, planting a sharp slap on your ass. You jolted and whimpered, unable to move away as Matt held your shoulders tightly. You didn’t even notice when his hands moved up to your shoulders from your waist.

Matt shifted his position, holding your shoulder with one hand while the other gripped his own length, giving it a few pumps, "open up, pretty." Despite your fucked up state, you found yourself complying.

"Damn, ma... y’take us so well— such a slut." Chris slammed his hips hard against your backside, emphasizing his words. "Mm... c’mon, pretty." Matt hissed through clenched teeth, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail, "show us what a whore you are."

Encouraged by their words, you met Chris’ thrusts as your mouth worked Matt, making both of them groan and moan in pleasure. You could tell they were both close, their cocks pulsing in your holes. You felt a rush of pleasure and satisfaction knowing you were giving them such intense pleasure that they could’t stop groaning and moaning.

Their hands clutched onto any part of you that they could hold on as they used your holes for their own pleasure, chasing the delicious pleasure you were providing them. You couldn’t stop the knot from forming in your stomach, threatening to consume your mind, almost too much, almost.

Your mind blanked when they went balls deep in both your holes, filling you up to the brim. The sensation bordered on too much and your body responded immediately, convulsing as you orgasmed hard. Your world blurred as you felt yourself get consumed by the pleasure.

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© sweetshuga

[parfaitblogs]

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end.  word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be. 

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all. 

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not. 

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide. 

And then he was free. 

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished. 

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened. 

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break. 

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met. 

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again. 

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit. 

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was. 

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be. 

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry. 

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming. 

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened. 

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped. 

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed. 

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again. 

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more. 

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him. 

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more. 

You couldn't complain. 

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch. 

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body. 

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later. 

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind. 

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you. 

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin. 

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered. 

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously. 

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face. 

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up. 

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away. 

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?" 

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again. 

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up. 

"Lots of people say oral," he defended. 

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head." 

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping. 

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping. 

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so. 

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?" 

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose. 

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests. 

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter. 

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him. 

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him. 

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have. 

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded. 

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone. 

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat. 

He liked to hear you. 

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either. 

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face. 

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest. 

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?" 

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body. 

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time. 

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make. 

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit. 

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin. 

"Touch myself?" 

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again. 

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head. 

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again. 

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you. 

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you. 

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could. 

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more. 

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it. 

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin. 

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't. 

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling. 

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome. 

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were. 

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to. 

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating. 

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered. 

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after. 

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after. 

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck. 

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter. 

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again. 

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there. 

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips. 

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking. 

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here. 

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more. 

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move. 

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move). 

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second. 

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled. 

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little. 

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again. 

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure. 

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were. 

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots. 

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever. 

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that. 

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever. 

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly. 

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared. 

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely. 

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone. 

Thankfully, you didn't have to. 

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee. 

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub. 

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt. 

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless. 

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways. 

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach. 

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh. 

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face. 

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort. 

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes. 

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[gladiatorcunt]

🎾 - #LOVE ON THE FLOOR !!

cw: unrealistic public sex on a tennis court 💀 (it’s nighttime and no one else is there), college era, afab reader, gross friends to lovers, strip tennis, soft dom!art x inexperienced!reader, vaginal fingering + titfucking + brief analingus (afab reader receiving), implied (soft) obsession & toxicity like art would marry you tomorrow, teasing (towards reader), nipple sucking (m receiving), art putting in overtime to hit on oblivious!reader, reader is so comically unaware pls just roll with it and suspend your disbelief, mandatory Patrick™️ mention, 3.5k of pure need, art’s so horny in this like 😔 (+subtle implications of him either being a manwhore or a porn addict, as a little treat), lowkey canon typical mind games, unedited

this was requested by a bot looking blog that i had to block but the idea still slapped! combined with an ask for inexperienced reader

Art Donaldson sees your instagram story that’s only a repost of a Ethel Cain song and tries not to click his heels together. It’s not like he’s happy you’re clearly going through something, but if the story is a result of what he thinks it’s a result of… then he’ll comfort you through it however he can. With his words, his tongue, babying you in the bath and washing your hair, etc. Just getting to be intimate with you at all is an opportunity he’d never turn down.

Suddenly you’re bursting into Art’s dorm like a bat out of hell, tears dotting your waterline and lower lip wobbling. His heart lurches and leaps in equal measures, his backwards cap feels like it constricts around his head as he resists the urge to fidget with it.

“He… he didn’t show up!”

Art shoots up and gets off his bed, rushing to you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “What are you talking about?”

He gives you a lingering hug and passes you some of your favorite fast food that he always keeps in the little fridge in his dorm. Somehow knowing that it’d be just what the doctor ordered, you’re so lucky to have such a caring friend. You two haven’t left each other’s side since you bumped him on the first day of class, bringing a clice to life by spilling your coffee all over his polo. Sometimes you still lie awake at night and cringe at yourself, trying to assure yourself that he’s stuck around your awkward ass for a reason.

You’re hiccuping through your story while munching on your chicken sandwich, “Mark acted so exicted yesterday, and now he’s stood me up. I waited in front of the café for an hour, people were staring…”

Art eyes you from his position on the bed, crowding against you due to the size and having half of his torso glued to your back. He doesn’t giggle at the adorable way you get frustrated when the pickle in your sandwich always slides out in between your teeth during a bite, but he thought about it! He reaches up and brushes his fingers against your hair, wanting to just touch it more than move it.

“I don’t know what to tell you, he’s an idiot and you’ll move on. It’s not like he’s the only person in the world.” He grumbles, not quite pouting as he hooks his chin on your shoulder.

“Okay now you’re just grumpy because I beat you at uno.” You tease, gesturing to the scattered pile of brightly colored cards on the bed.

He’s definitely made you feel better though, he always does. You both finish your food and Art stands up from the bed to grab his tennis bag. He pulls you up too and winks, saying that you can’t beat him at everything. You ask what he’s doing and he only grins, telling you to come with him. You nervously glance around as you’re pulled to race through the halls to the court. There’s a simmering feeling weaving in and out of your tightly intertwined fingers.

divider

Art lets go of your hand to drop his bag on the ground, leaving your palm feeling strangely cold without his warmth.

You’re still not sure you should even be out here, you know that you’re definitely not allowed but Art seems to sense your hesitation because he rushes towards you and cups your hands in his.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re not gonna get in trouble or anything, y’know that?” He chuckles, gently knocking the tip of his nose against yours. “Look up for me, the moon’s really pretty tonight.”

You follow his lead and tilt your head back to gaze up at the goregous crescent moon high in the oil colored sky. You don’t notice that he’s looking at you instead, that he doesn’t say that the moon reminds him of you but he feels like the one orbiting around you instead of the other way around. Luckily there’s not a cloud in sight, just a floating city of stars with a glowing center. Art lightly pulls on your wrists, clearly wanting your attention back on him, so you comply.

You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you don’t miss the odd glint in his eyes as he narrows them slightly.

His eyelids crinkle as he smiles charmingly, “Don’t you trust me?”

You answer with your heart, “Yes, of course I do.”

He beams at you and explains the rule of the game he dragged you all the way out here to play. It’s just like a regular game of tennis so you really shouldn’t sweat it, he says. His expression shifts when he makes a show out of being unable to look you in the eye when he tells you the special rules, knowing full well you can see him try to tamper down a self satisfied laugh. Whoever scores gets to pick whatever piece of clothing the other takes off, and the loser of the game has to get completely naked if they aren’t already.

Your cheeks warm and you gawk at him, “Isn’t it weird that you’ll see me… like that?”

“So you already know you’re gonna lose, huh? And it’s not like i haven’t seen most of it before.” Art laughs, not bothering to hide the blush on his face. “You’ve seen all of me, anyway.”

It’s true, you usually laze around in nothing but your underwear and that’s been the norm for you two. Art’s no different, he’ll change in front of you and will literally walk around butt naked around your dorm. More often than not, he’ll answer the door in only a towel around his waist and sitting on his hip bones, no matter if it’s one of your other friends or a project partner. You're constantly having to text the other because you forgot that you left your toothbrush behind. You’ve never had a chance to be embarrassed by it. It’s been like that for the longest time and anytime you’ll tell Art that your friends keep asking if he’s your boyfriend, he’ll just reassure you that you guys are just really close. And isn’t that a good thing?

“Besides, I think this’ll help get you out of your shell.”

You’re embarrassed at the reminder of how inexperienced you are. Sure, you shouldn’t have a whole thing about it or whatever, but it just is kind of alienating from other people your age to not be able to say you’ve done what they’ve done. And you would’ve been able to have some stories of your own if you could manage to hold down a date. But tonight isn’t supposed to be about you wallowing, you’re supposed to be having fun. Even if the sight of your best friend in tight fitting sporty clothes makes your pussy throb.

divider

You giggle nervously when he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, swaying you from side to side before moving his grip up to your arms.

“Relax, i’m just checking your form. Being close to you is just a bonus.” He winks and presses his stomach up against your back.

It’s so cheesy, the situation and the pose. But you lean into his touch and pretend to care about how he’s showing you the right way to hold a racket and all that, he doesn’t even really care if he’s being honest. It’s romantic though, and he can’t resist the opportunity to get a taste of what it’d be like to pin your body down with his weight. He guides you through a few “practice” swings and then throws a two finger salute at you as he jogs around the net to his side of the court.

It’s your serve, and despite you being very much a beginner, you get the first point.

Art stands there expectantly, cocking his head to the side and bouncing on his heels in anticipation. You honestly didn’t consider that you’d actually be telling your best friend to take off his clothes for you, but you’re new thing is taking shit in stride, you guess.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” He shouts and hovers his fingers around the collar of his polo, ready for you to say the word.

You take the coward’s way out, “Your shoes.”

Art frowns but obeys the rules, swiftly unlacing his sneakers and tossing them to the side. The court’s not so rough that it’d be hell on his feet, but he’d do it for you even if it was all a bunch of jagged rocks cobbled together. The game goes on with Art scoring the next point, and then the one after that. He has you discard your necklace, one of those cheesy half heart ones that matches with one he has, and your shoes as well. He doesn’t wanna scare you off, but he knows what he wants to have you take off for him.

You score the next time, down goes his pants. Without them, few things are left to the imagination. Every time he’d walk around you naked you’d always keep your face firmly glued to your phone or something. But being faced with the very… detailed outline of his bulge through his underwear, that’s another thing entirely. It looks so long against his thigh it might as well be a third leg. There’s already a little wet spot where the tip must be.

You must’ve been taking too long to ogle him, because Art yells at you to “Focus on the game, yeah?”

You’re lucky it’s not a cold night when he gets the next point and has you take off your pants, which are really just glorified shorts. You unfasten them and shimmy them down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles and kicking them away from you. You haven’t shaved today, but you know that Art doesn’t care about that sort of thing. He’s made sure to tell you as much many times when you complain about how much your back hurts after you get done with it.

Art takes his sweet time dragging his gaze down your legs, already imagining bringing them around his waist or over his shoulders. Your panties are so cute too, cupping your pussy so closely that he can see the shapes of your puffy lips from all the way on the other side of the court, a “camel toe” or whatever you call it. He thinks it’s so hot, but you’re shy about it, asking him to see how you look in jeans that are a size too small. He always does a thorough inspection.

Whoever scores next wins the game, and you’re too busy trying not to fall on your ass to put any effort into it. It’s not a real game away, and besides, it’s not like anything has to happen when the loser completely undresses. Out of the corner of your eye you see Art’s dick twitch in his briefs and you get so distracted that you freeze and miss the neon yellow-green ball hurtling past you. Art whoops and cheers as you process the fact that you lost.

“You know what that means.” Art grins from ear to ear. “Make a show out of it for me.”

divider

You don’t even mind the staring, it’s such a common thing that you’d be more pissed off if he wasn’t looking at you at all. The way his eyes devour every inch of bare skin and drop of sweat that you earned during the game. You pull your tank top up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Your bra isn’t a frilly thing, you wear it mainly for support, but Art can’t seem to tear himself away from the view of your pushed up tits rising and falling as you breathe.

You…. don’t know what to do now, the big appeal of the game is over, you awkwardly laugh it off and bend over to pick up your clothes. Art shakes his head to snap himself out of his horny fever dream and races over to you, latching onto your wrist and stopping you from getting dressed again.

“You’re supposed to take it all off, remember?”

You drop your clothes, noticing that he still doesn’t let you go.

Heats fills your cheeks as he steps closer, delicately sliding his fingertips up the inside of your arm and around your back. He plays with the hook of your bra, gazing down at you with a look full to brim with unknown intent and purpose. He doesn’t do something as bold as unlatching it right out the gate, no, he just stares into your soul.

“I remember.” Your eyes drop down to his lips, and that’s when you know it’s over. “Can’t exactly do it myself if you’ve already got one foot in the door.”

You’ve gotta know when to fold ‘em, and all that.

Art softly smiles and loops his fingers under your bra strap. You have to remind yourself to breathe, but you don’t really get much of a chance to. Before you can stop yourself and think with your head, you’re canting up to press your lips to his. Art immediately kisses you back, chuckling into the kiss when you gasp as he expertly unhooks your bra with one hand.

In the blink of an eye, you’re flat on your back on the court, Art having hastily thrown his shirt under you while you were tangling your tongues together. He presses an array of wet open mouthed kisses down your body, paying extra special attention to the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your mound.

“Smells so good, ‘s cute, too. It figures you’d have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He coos, dragging a lone finger down your slit before gently pushing it inside.

You gasp, wrenching your eyes shut tight at the intrusion. He takes good care of you, slowly sinking his finger in to the knuckle and sliding it in and out of you. He gradually adds more fingers as the minutes pass. Your walls throb around him, and if Art were a weaker man (like the guy you almost went out with) he would’ve said fuck it and plunged his dick into your cunt in one smooth stroke. But you deserve the best first time possible, and all the distractions he’s used have helped him be patient enough to refrain from humping you like a dog.

“You’re okay, you can take it. It’s nothing compared to what this pussy’s going to be taking later anyway, baby.” He hums and nuzzles his nose into where your inner thigh meets your mound.

As he’s languidly thrusting his fingers into your puffy pussy, Art strains his neck to lap at your ass. He holds one of your fat cheeks in his free hand and spreads you open, diving in to suck on the puckered hole between them. He sharpens his tongue and jabs it into your ass, his cock throbs when you let out the sweetest little squeals at the squelching and throaty noises he’s making. He can feel your hole unfurling with every slurp and suck, something that only makes him increase the speed of his long fingers in your pussy, maintaining a breathtaking steady rhythm.

Eventually his poor leaking cock can’t take anymore grinding into the ground, so Art crooks his fingers and (albeit a bit cruelly) jams them into your sweet spot. The velvet grip of your pussy strangles his digits like a dream, you’d take dick so beautifully. Your eyes fly open and your throat spasms around a mangled moan. He pulls his fingers out of your soaking wet pussy, smirking up at you as he sucks them try like a professionally trained whore. Your clit receives a loving kitten lick as an apology for neglecting it, and with that Art hovers over you at an even eye to eye level again.

“Holy shit…” You pant and flick his pebbled nipples, absentmindedly rolling them around with your thumb. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah, we are.” Art sighs, his head falls back as you duck down to suck his nipples into your mouth, the saliva you lathered them with dripping down your chin. He grabs the back of your head and pushes your face into his chest, arching his back.

“Relax, I bribed security and told them to fuck off for the night.”

That doesn’t concern you as much as it should, you’re too transfixed on Art wrenching your mouth off of his pecs and moving to straddle your chest.

“Can you push them together for me?” He breathes hard and grinds his weeping cock against your tits, mesmerized by how his precum makes your skin glisten.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you do, making quick use out of the delicious new friction the little pocket provides. “Thanks, honey.”

You keep staring at the tip of his dick, loving the little peek you get of it as he fucks your tits and it pokes your chin. You don’t even realize you’re doing it but you let your mouth hang open, angling your head down so his cockhead pecks your tongue at the end of every thrust. You make sure to lick every drop of pre cum away as it oozes out of him, looking so nice against the flushed pink skin of his tip. Art groans when he finally summons the strength to watch you do it, the sight hurtling him over the edge before he has the time or vocal ability to warn you.

His thick load jets out to land all over your tits, half of it on the lower half of your face. You’re almost sad it didn’t get high enough to clump your lashes together, it would’ve made for the perfect contact picture. Oh well, maybe next time. It’s amazing, the switch you’ve made from the shy friend to the writhing slut underneath him. You blame it on the honest to God sweet taste of his milky white cum, surprisingly making you think of the pineapples he always snatches from your plate when you eat at school together.

(Another painstaking effort made just for you, love)

It’s a miracle you get back to his dorm, some of your clothes are swapped and put on incorrectly and you both didn’t clean up at all. As soon as you reach the door, Art practically shoves you inside and onto the bed. He gets so frustrated with having to get your clothes off again that he just rips them right off of you, promising to take you to the mall tomorrow (or whenever he lets you leave the bed) to buy replacements. You literally couldn't care less if he shackles you to the wall, you need him to rearrange your guts so badly, you’d kill for it. Should you be having deep conversations about your feelings and what the future will look like? Absolutely, but your clit is clouding your sense of rationality and you don’t mind that right now.

“Do you even know how much i’ve wanted this? To fuck you so hard that we end up attached at the hip?” He bites, breaking away from your lips to suck bruises down the column of your throat. “We can have a baby- please have my baby, fuck!”

There’s something so weirdly romantic about the leftover scent of the court combined with the twinkling stars outside. Art’s moans and hands scrambling to pin you down so all you have to do is take it, you’re doing things all out of order, but this was always going to happen sooner or later. Art is a clumsy manipulator but he’s so handsome… you find yourself agreeing to every frantic declaration flying out of his mouth as he spears his long cock into your sopping wet pussy. You claw red lines into his shoulders and back, and Art nearly creams on the spot. The sting and the fact that you’re so out of it, you’re marking him up, are crossing the wires in his brain. His taut thighs burn with the effort of fucking you so far into the mattress.

You’ll get to cum four more times than he does, and by the end of it you’ll wish you never came at all. Your soul’s goikg to be so far away from your ruined mess of limbs that you won’t notice the sacred promises being muttered into your sweaty hair or pay attention to your phone being out on Do Not Disturb. You’ll be right where you should be, inevitably molded around the shape of his dick and branded by all the love bites that litter your body. You’ll think you passed out during most of them, but you’ll give him a loopy smile, hook your pinky around his, and let yourself melt away.

It feels as if your walls are still clenching around a dick that’s no longer buried to the hilt in them.

“I love you”’s are for early mornings with coffee and pancakes. Gloating to Patrick will be for hours before then, Art blocking him when you’re deep asleep and unable to mend the growing rift between them.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

hello 🩷recently found and loved your account so i’m here to ask from you!!

criminal minds SSA aaron hotchner x reader

i’d love any explicit smut 😋

ideal trope(s) would be jealousy, established but secret relationship due to workplace like the whole thing stems from AH being jealous af that you’re getting hit on or smth and he can’t do shy about it in public but oh when ur home.. 👀👀👀

hahaha sorry the brain rot is real

thank you if you do this!!

and i hope u never stop writing i’ve been reading ur other posts too i love them sm

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

— summary: your new relationship brings out a side of aaron that he had never seen before.

— warnings: established relationship, jealousy (obvi), unprotected sex, rough sex, teasing, couch sex, aaron lowkey bends you like a pretzel, heavy praise, he taps you on the cheek (lovingly ofc), implied creampie, consent king aaron!!, slightly insecure aaron, implied age gap but not specified, body massages and an implied size kink!

— wc: 2018

⋆ a/n: WOW a long smut fic, who would have thought? anywho, i'm trying to break free from posting headcanons because i just know they'll overtake this account. thank you for this request!

masterlist | AO3

Aaron felt his eye twitch. 

His eye never twitches.

The culprit? The maintenance man that won’t stop talking to you. 

He had so much paperwork he needed to complete, the stack of it had begun to tower, but Aaron couldn’t manage to get himself to focus on anything else but you. 

Your relationship was fairly new, so you both had just agreed to keep it low-key for now. It wasn’t like you guys were lying, how could you when you were constantly surrounded by nosy profilers? 

With new relationships came new feelings, and one of them he hadn’t felt since he was a young man somehow managed to resurface right under his nose: jealousy.

Yes, he had his moments of jealousy when he had first gotten with Hailey, but this? This was different. The age gap between the two of you wasn’t that large, but it was considerable enough that when he saw men closer to your age creeping around you, it always put him in a foul mood.

Like right now he just wants to storm down there and kiss you right in front of that stupid kid. The urge was primal and unfamiliar, and quite frankly it drove him insane.

Aaron was sure you hadn’t meant to come off as flirtatious, and who were your colleagues to step in if you looked genuinely interested in the guy? For all they knew you were single.

Oh, yeah, this was going to drive him over the edge, and it was all your fault.

It was safe to say you were excited when Aaron had decided to call it an early night, you just hadn’t expected him to jump on you as soon as you breached the threshold of your home.

He didn’t give you time to think or even put your things down, his briefcase followed along by your purse collapsed to the floor with a surprisingly loud thud!

Your lungs burned and your face was hot, heated between the two furnaces that were Aaron’s large and work-worn hands. You desperately clung onto the sleeves of his suit jacket, the material twisting between your fingers to keep yourself sturdy as he walked backwards.

“A- Aaron wha - what’s going on?” You pleaded breathlessly. You had to slightly shove the man away even though you were met with his uncharacteristic resistance. He just stood there and stared at you like a wild man, pupils dilated and chest rising and falling with every hastened breath he took.

He shook his head and blinked, like his thoughts were escaping him. Aaron couldn’t think when you looked at him like that; your lips kiss swollen with a light sheen of spit, your blouse covered breasts grazing his firm chest.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Was all he could say before reconnecting your lips. 

He continues to walk backwards before the back of his calves meet the couch. He allows himself to drop down with a slight oomf, his needy hands tugging on yours encouragingly until you clambered onto his lap.

He didn’t give you time to show him any hesitancy, his palms gripping your hips firmly and all but holding you down against him. You gasped at the feeling, your fingers scratching at the shaved hairs on the back of his neck. 

“Aaron! What has gotten into you?” The question was a flustered giggle. Aaron’s eyes casted to the side in a rare show of nervousness. 

“It’s ridiculous.” He mutters. “I can bet you a million dollars that whatever you’re going to say isn’t as silly as you think it is.”

“It was that guy. The one that wouldn’t stop talking to you.” It took you a moment to think back on it before you finally understood what he meant. “The maintenance man? What about him?”

“He was flirting with you, and - I don’t know, it made me feel things I haven’t in a long time.”

Saying the actual word jealousy seemed so juvenile to Aaron; he was a grown ass man with a grown ass man job, so what right did he have to be acting like this?

“Oh.” It was long and drawn out. You felt a smirk begin to form on your face and you gently coaxed his eyes to meet yours. Aaron’s gaze was unsure. 

“You know I’m yours, right? I don’t want anyone else that isn’t you, no matter how young, rich or tall.” Your hips begin to grind down on his and Aaron chokes back a groan. His grip on your flesh gets stronger and it draws a whimper out of you.

“Yeah?” He asks sensually, his voice a low purr. He aids in your grinding and your head grows fuzzy. “Yeah.”

He’s quick to reposition the both of you, your back now resting on the couch cushions. He kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at the skin there. It sends a shiver down your spine and your lower half canting up, desperately searching for friction. 

Your hot cunt meets his knee. “Ah! Aaron.” You whined, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your boyfriend has one foot on the ground and the other wedged between your legs.

Aaron rises from your chest for a moment, shoving off his suit jacket and working the buttons on his shirt. You take it upon yourself to take your blouse off, arms reaching behind you to unclasp your bra with learned precision. 

His eyes fall on your breasts and you could have sworn his movements gained a bit of franticness.

“Like what you see?” You couldn’t help but tease, your hands now working to shimmy your pencil skirt down your thighs. “Very much.” Aaron agrees with a lazy half smile. “Here, let me help.” You lift your hips up and he takes both your panties and skirt off at the same time.

The casual show of strength made your stomach clench, and you all but snatched Aaron by the back of his neck back down to your level. A noise of surprise escapes him and you take it as a chance to slip your tongue in his mouth.

Your body begins to heat up, his taking grabs and grips driving you insane.

“Fuck me.” You heave. Aaron pulls away from you, “Are you sure? You aren’t prepared well yet, and I don’t want to hurt you.” You smile softly. “As much as I appreciate your concern about me, I’ll let you know if there’s any discomfort, okay?”

Aaron thinks on your words for a moment, mulling them about in his brain before relenting at the feeling of your sweet, tempting hands stroking his bare chest.

“You always have to keep me on my toes, don’t you?” 

“That was in the agreement.” You bite playfully. He snorts and rolls his eyes, but sits up once more to unbutton his pants. 

With what feels like forever, he’s finally bare for your hungry eyes and clambering on top of you.

Resuming his old position, he wraps your legs around his waist, the tip of his cock poking at your slit. The two of you shiver at the feeling.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart? You know I don’t mind eating you out; I’m in no rush.” Your cheeks turn warm at his crudeness. “I’m sure, baby. I need you. Now.” With one final search of your face, he begins to push forward.

Your breath catches in your throat and you hold on to his muscular biceps. Your eyes flutter shut at the full feeling of him, your legs trembling and stomach tightening. 

The first initial stretch hurts of course, but with a minute of laying there adjusting to Aaron’s size as he delivers very stimulating circles on your clit to distract you from the discomfort, you find yourself loosening up.

“Move.” You grunted quietly. 

Aaron’s jaw is set tight, the vein in his forehead slightly bulging when he proceeds to thrust experimentally. Your lips roll in between your teeth to hold back the whorish moan that threatens to practically barrel out of you. 

He does it again, and again, and again, until all of his self control is thrown out the window and the only thing he can think of is you; of how tight you are around him.

“It feels so good, baby. So, so good…” You babble, your hands reaching up to grip the armrest of the couch for more leverage. “I know honey, I know. ‘M gonna get deeper, okay?” Aaron groans. You nod wildly, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face.

He steadies himself on the knee placed on the couch, lifting your legs up so either one sits on his big, broad shoulders. 

The change in position caused your back to arch, your mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ shape as you struggled to keep your head on straight.“Mphm! You’re so - you’re so deep.” You cried out, tears brimming on your eyelashes. “I know I am, baby. But you can take it right?”

“Mhm! I can! I know I can!” 

“You can take it because you’re mine right? Because you’re my good girl?” 

His praise pushes you dangerously close to the edge, and you’re honestly convinced that the crescent shape of your nails will leave an imprint on the material forever. The couch cushions stick to your skin like glue, the so of skin hitting skin resounded throughout the room lewdly.

A hand lightly slapped your face, your cheeks squeezed between his fingers, puckering slightly.

“I asked you a question, didn't I sweetheart?”

“You did, you did! ‘M sorry. ‘M your good girl, please.”

What you were begging for, you didn’t know; was it mercy? Was it a desperate call for your sanity? Whatever it was could wait, because you were going to cum.

“Gah! God, Aaron, ‘m gonna cum! Help me cum, please.” You begged again. “I got you honey.”

Aaron’s hand slithered down your body before landing on your clit, a calloused thumb drawing it around in firm circles. Your body moved and convulsed violently, your moans growing in volume – you’re sure you’re going to receive a noise complaint in the mail later.

That coil in your stomach threatened to snap, and all you could think to say was, “Cum with me?” 

To be frank, Aaron was ready to cum a few thrusts before, but he was always one to prolong his pleasure if that meant satisfying you.

“Of - of course.” He stuttered, his dominance slowly slipping away from him.

Aaron bent forward just a little more to test how far he could push you, and though you were sure your muscles were going to ache when everything died down, but God, this was so, so worth it.

“F- fuck!” You swore as you came.

Everything disappeared for a moment besides the sound of Aaron’s guttural groan that sounded more like a loud, long-drawn-out whimper than anything when he came too.

You were slowly brought back to reality by Aaron massaging your sore muscles, gently twisting them and rubbing out any potential knots that threatened to form. You knew he'd disappear in a minute to grab something to wipe you down with, but you couldn’t seem to find it within your post orgasmic bliss to care.

“Mm, that’s nice.” You rasped, your eyelids fluttering open to face your disheveled boyfriend. His hair was all out of place in the best way possible, his bare body shining in a clear sheen of sweat. If you weren’t so tired, you think you’d jump straight to a round two.

“I’m sure,” Aaron’s voice was just as hoarse as yours. “I think I pushed your body a bit too far.”

“Don’t get started, Aaron.” You chided lightly. “It was perfect, okay? You were perfect. Now get up here.” 

You dragged him from where he was and laid his body on top of yours.

“Down.” You demanded playfully. “I’m heavy, honey.”

“Don’t care.” You exaggerated the ‘don’t’ and pulled the rest of him down.

“I want to lay like this for a minute.”

“Alright,” Aaron nodded to himself. “I can do a minute.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[waitimcomingtoo]

Just to Learn That You Never Cared

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: always leaving class together to go fight crime leads people to think you’re dating when in reality you’re barely even friends. That is, until you agree to fake a relationship to keep your secret life a secret

requested/idea by @usoppsstar

Masterlist

“Oh, hey. Your girlfriend left this in class.” One of Peter’s classmates said as he tossed Peter a hoodie.

“Oh. Thanks.” Peter said before realizing what the person had said. He turned the hoodie over in his hands and recognized it as yours. His face warmed up in a blush when he realized you had just been mistaken for his girlfriend. He shoved the hoodie into his bag and wondered if he should tell you or not.

Peter saw you later that night on a rooftop you frequented often. You were in your suit, as was he, but had your mask sitting beside you. You were munching on a bag of chips and wordlessly extended them to him when he landed on the rooftop beside you. He smiled graciously and took a few before sitting down next to you. Your knees were touching but neither of you moved away.

“You left this in physics, dingus.” Peter said and handed you your hoodie.

“Oh, thanks. We had to run out of there so fast to save that lady. I must’ve left it behind.” You smiled gratefully and pulled it over your head. Peter felt bad that his high tech suit had built in heaters and your homemade suit was probably leaving you freezing every night. He wanted to suggest sharing his warmth, but he didn’t want to overstep.

“I know. Thank God she called the police on those kids for selling lemonade without a permit. I’m really glad we left a test to go witness that heinous crime.”

“It’s not all bad. We did get to see the cops arrest her for wasting their time by making a fake police report, which is always satisfying. And the kids gave us free lemonade. But I think calling it “homemade” was bullshit. I know Minute Maid when I taste it.” You replied, making Peter chuckle.

“You’re right. Both those things were enjoyable.” Peter agreed. “But I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I feel like we have to leave class every other day.”

“I know. Why did we have to pick a college in such a Karen ridden neighborhood?” You sighed.

“Because we wanted to go to the good school with the good science program. We should’ve known the neighborhood would be full of bored housewives who call the police whenever they have a minor complaint. It was our own hubris.”

“It was.” You chuckled and said looked over at him. You exchanged soft smiles before you looked over at the city horizon. Peters eyes never left you and he cleared his throat to get your attention.

“So, uh, my aunt and I were gonna get Chinese food later. At the place that got shut down for being a front for money laundering but that was really just a front for a second Chinese food chain.”

“Oh, I love that place.”

“Yeah. It’s great.” He nodded. “Anyways, you should totally come-“

Peter was cut off by the police radio he wired to his phone going off. He rolled his eyes and checked what the alert was.

“Damn it. Robbery at the bakery on 9th.” He told you.

“Lowkey, I’d do the same. Their cream puffs made me cream.” You said as you put your mask back on.

“Haha, yeah.” Peter chuckled. “Wait, what?”

“You should get some sleep. I’ll handle the robbery. But I’ll catch you tomorrow, Parker. Get home safe.” You saluted him before falling backwards off the building.

“I love you too.” Peter sighed.

“Did you say something?” You asked and popped back up.

“No.” Peter quickly lied.

“Okay. Well, see you tomorrow.” You waved to him and disappeared again. Peter let out another sigh before swinging home.

The next day, you ran after one of your classmates once class was let out.

“Hey, Carly. I emailed you my notes from the class you missed.” You told her.

“Thank you so much. You’re a life saver.” She replied. “Oh, and could you tell your boyfriend that band practice is in the gym today?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” You agreed. She was about to walk away when you realized what she had said.

“Wait, what am I saying?” You wondered. “Who’s my boyfriend?”

“You know. That guy with the prescription shoes.” Carly answered. You tilted your head in confusion until you realized you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Wait, Peter?” You laughed in surprise. You expected her to laugh too and reveal she was just kidding but she looked completely serious.

“Oh, right. Peter. Why do I always think his name is Timmy?” Carly wondered.

“Because he looks like a Timmy. He gets it all the time.” You waved your hand. “And his shoes are not prescription. He just bought women’s platform shoes because he wanted to be taller and didn’t think anyone could tell.”

“We can.” Carly mumbled.

“I know.” You agreed. “But, I’m getting off topic. Timmy is not my boyfriend. I mean, Peter is not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever label you guys use, can you tell him that wind ensemble is meeting in the gym instead of the choir room? The sopranos kicked us out again to practice or do drugs or something.” Carly explained. You furrowed your eyebrows at her and tried to figure out if she was joking or not.

“The label? I’m so lost. Who told you that Peter’s my boyfriend?”

“Nobody told me.” She shrugged. “Everyone just knows that you guys are a couple.”

“Well how would they know something that isn’t true?” You asked and folded your arms.

“I mean, it’s not like you guys try to keep it a secret. Between all the whispering and staying close by each other. Plus you’re always sneaking out of class together or showing up late. And if one of you is absent, the other always is too. It’s been like that since high school. People just put two and two together I guess. Why, did you want to to be secret?”

“I didn’t want it to be anything. We’re not even dating.” You insisted and felt like you were going crazy.

“You don’t have to deny it.” Carly laughed. “I know feelings are weird and gross and stuff and you’ve never been the relationship type, but I think this guy is good for you. He brings something out in you. I don’t know. But you guys are cute. I love seeing the nice loser and assertive pretty girl troupe in real life.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” You calmed down momentarily and smiled a little. Carly walked away and your smile quickly faded when you remembered what she had said. You looked around the hallway and saw another student holding an instrument.

“Hey. Band nerd.” You called out to him.

“Me?” He asked and pointed to himself.

“Yes, you. You had to let go of your saxophone case to point to yourself. Have you seen my boyfriend today?” You asked him.

“Peter? I haven’t seen him since yesterday in-“

“That sentence better not end with “wind ensemble” or I’m gonna lose it.”

“It was wind ensemble.” He said quickly.

“I’m leaving.” You shook your head and walked away from him. You pulled out your phone and went straight to your schools “campus sweethearts” page on instagram. Sure enough, there was a picture of you and Peter sitting next to each other right at the top of the page. You had your head thrown back laughing at something he was saying and he was looking at you fondly. You let out a shocked gasp and before walking out into the courtyard to look for Peter. You spotted him on a bench and smiled.

“Yes. Thank you, small campus”. You pumped your fist and went to sit next to him.

“Oh, hi. I was just thinking about you-“

“Someone is spreading a horrible rumor about you.” You cut him off.

“Oh no.” Peter frowned. “What is it? Is it bad?”

“Horrible.” You shook your head. “Peter, they’re saying you’re in wind ensemble.”

“Oh, I am.” Peter shrugged.

“Huh?”

“I play the clarinet . See. Clarinet.” Peter said and lifted up his little black clarinet case.

“Huh?” You said louder.

“I used to play in high school, pre-bite but post 9/11. I saw a flyer for orchestra on campus so I joined.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” You practically shouted. Peter knew you weren’t happy but felt strangely honored that you were so upset over him not telling you something about her personal life.

“Because I know how you feel about band nerds.” He replied. “And you and I don’t really talk about non-work related things. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I care.” You insisted. “My rumored boyfriend has been in wind ensemble this whole time and I didn’t even know?”

“Wait, rumored boyfriend? Who, me?” Peter asked in surprised.

“So you didn’t know about this either?”

“No. I mean, someone did refer to you as my girlfriend the other day but I thought it was just an accident. People think you and me are dating?” Peter asked and tried not to look as pleased as he felt.

“Apparently. I’ve had multiple people refer to you as my boyfriend today. And look. We’re on the campus couples Instagram page.” You said and held up your phone.

“Ew. We have one of those?” Peter grimaced and took your phone to see the picture better.

“Yeah. I honestly think the principle runs it.” You replied. Peter was quiet as he stared at the picture for a while.

“What?” You wondered.

“Nothing. This just a cute picture of us. And I think the only picture of us.” He said with a shy smile. You frowned and looked at the picture again before realizing he was right.

“Carly said people think we’re dating since we’re always sneaking off together.” You told him. Peter thought out this for a minute and then made another connection.

“Ohhhh.” He said and nodded his head.

“What?”

“This explains why the boys congratulated me on the bus back to New York after the Washington monument trip for losing my virginity at a historic landmark.”

“You lost your virginity on that trip? To who?” You whispered harshly and felt jealousy burning through your veins.

“You, apparently.” He laughed. “You and I disappeared to get the glowy alien egg bomb thing back and I guess everyone assumed we were off desecrating a national monument.”

“Oh my God. That was like 3 years ago.” You realized. “People have thought we were dating this whole time? We need to put a stop to this.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Or…” Peter trailed off and gave you a look.

“Or?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Or, we lean into it.” He suggested. “We let people think it. We encourage it, even.”

“Why would we do that?”

“People have been suspicious about where we go and what we’re doing since high school. We can only fake so many illnesses and I ran out of grandparents to lie about the death of by junior year. So if people already made up a reason, maybe we should let them think that. We don’t have to go out of our way to confirm it but we can keep the assumption going to keep them from finding out what we’re really doing.”

“So you think we should let people think we’re dating so they stop wondering about what we’re always off doing?”

“That’s exactly what I just said, yes.” Peter nodded.

“Hey. Be nicer to your fake girlfriend.” You said and smacked his arm.

“I’m sorry. I will.” Peter blushed and rubbed his arm. You felt bad for hitting him and wrapped both arms around him to rub them up and down. He smiled softly at you and you sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“You play the clarinet?” You asked after a minute.

“Squidward made it look so cool.” Peter shrugged.

“Did he?” You asked, making Peter laugh.

“No.” He admitted.

The next day, you and Peter walked to school together with the understanding that from then on out, you were going to play the part of a happy couple. You weren’t going to go around announcing it to everyone or anything. You just needed to convince the few that didn’t already believe the rumor and confirm things for the ones who did believe it.

“You ready for this?” You asked Peter as you stepped into campus.

“I think so. Maybe we should hold hands or something. You know, since people think we’re dating.” Peter suggested and tried to make it sound like it didn’t matter to him.

“I guess so.” You shrugged and held out your hand. Peter eagerly took your hand and took note of the way it fit in his like it was made for him.

“This is weird.” You whispered to him, popping his bubble.

“Why? Are my hands sweaty?” He panicked.

“No. Just really, really hot.” You told him. “It’s just weird that nobody seems to care that we’re holding hands right now.”

“I mean, we are just two random people with almost no social presence.”

“That’s true. I guess I just thought people would care more.” You admitted as you looked around the campus. No one was phased by you and Peter, but he was too busy enjoying the moment to realize it.

“Are you disappointed?” He asked you.

“Yeah. I wore my best bra because I thought I’d be getting more attention today.” You frowned and adjusted the strap of your bra.

“It’s okay. I’ll take one for the team and stare at your boobs.” Peter assured you.

“Aw. Thank you.” You gushed and gave his hand a squeeze.

You got to your physics class and sat together at your usual lab table. Peter looked around the classroom while you carried on as usual.

“Maybe I should put my arm around you. You know, to really convince people.” Peter suggested with a shy blush on his face.

“Is that really something people do?” You genuinely wondered. “I feel like I never see couples with their arms around each other.”

“Actually, I don’t think I have either. But let’s try it anyway.” He said and wrapped an arm around you. You scooted closer to him so that you could comfortably lean into him. You quickly realized you didn’t hate it and let out a content sigh.

“Hm.” Peter made a little noise at the back of his throat.

“What?” You asked him.

“Our height difference makes this hurt my shoulder.” He leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Then move your arm.” You whispered back.

“I can’t. I just wrapped it around you. It’ll look weird if I immediately take it off.” Peter said as he covered behind him to see who was looking.

“Or, consider this. Nobody in this entire city, and dare I say world, cares where your arm is right now.” You whispered harshly.

“Fine. I’ll remove it. But I have to give a reason.” He told you before loudly clearing his throat.

“Ah. Sorry, babe. I can’t cuddle you right now. My arm is sore from band practice.” Peter said loud enough for everyone in the classroom to hear him. You hung your head in shame and heard people murmuring about his strange comment.

“Oh God.” Peter gulped. “People are looking. They’re gonna know something is up. I have to put it back.”

He went to put his arm back around you but you stopped him before he could draw any more attention to the two of you.

“Just do this.” You whispered to him and pulled his stool closer to you and turned towards him a little. Your knees and were touching and you were now facing each other.

“That’s it? No one can even see this.” Peter said in disappointment. He thought being your fake boyfriend would bring you guys closer but you were sitting the way you always sat in class.

“It’s not about what people can see. It’s about proximity.” You explained. “We’re sitting closer together than anyone else is without being egregious about it. It’s a simple touch. If we’ve been together as long as people think we have, we don’t need to be wrapped around each other all the time. A simple touch to let the other know we’re there is all we need.”

Peter was silent as he stared at you following your explanation. He stared for so long that you felt yourself blush under the eye contact.

“What?” You asked him.

“I like the way you explain things.” Peter said simply. You quickly looked down so he wouldn’t see the effect that comment had on you and took a moment to collect yourself.

“It’s just something I thought of.” You shrugged.

“I know. But I never would have thought of that. Especially not as naturally as it did for you. You’re so quick.”

“Thank you.” You laughed shyly and found yourself unable to look away from him. Peter opened his mouth to say something to keep the momentum rolling but his phone interrupted him.

“Shoot. Sus-tivity on the b bridge.” He whispered.

“What the hell does that mean?” You asked at full volume.

“It means there’s suspicious activity on the Brooklyn bridge.” He rolled his eyes. “We have to act fast so I didn’t have time to say the whole thing.”

“But you just said the whole thing. And the abridged version. So it took twice as long.”

“Shh.” He waved his hand. “We gotta go.”

You reluctantly collected your things and took Peter’s hand to pull him out of his seat. Peter followed you out the classroom but the teacher cleared her throat when you walked by.

“And where are you two going?” She asked. You and Peter exchanged looks as the class snickered and murmured their theories about what exactly you were heading off to do.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Pepper. My girlfriend and I have to leave class unexpectedly. Please excuse us. It’s urgent.” Peter’s said politely.

“I bet it’s urgent, Parker.” A boy snickered, making serval classmates laugh.

“Gross.” You wrinkled your noses and looked at the boys in disdain.

“Fine.” The teacher sighed. “The only reason I don’t write you two up for skipping so often is because you somehow have the best grades in the class. Go on. Just get the homework done.”

“We will.” You assured her before leaving the room with Peter. Peter noticed that you didn’t drop his hand even when you were alone in the hallway.

“Hey, you know that teachers name is Dr. Zhang and not Dr. Pepper, right?” You asked him.

“Oh my God.” Peter gasped. “Is it really? I’ve emailed her so many times and said “Dear Dr. Pepper”. We have to drop out.”

You laughed and held his hand the rest of the way out of the building.

That night, Peter laid in his bed with his phone held close to his face. He had been trying to figure out what to text you to let you know he had been thinking of you.

“I had fun fighting crime with you today” He wrote out. He read it over before scrunching his nose.

“No. Too cringe. She is not gonna fall in love with someone that says “fighting crime”. I’m not Paw Patrol.” He said like it was obvious. He deleted his text and thought of another one.

“I had a good time today, we make a good team” He wrote out instead. He read it a few times until he found issue with it.

“Oh, you had a good time stopping those break dancers that were obstructing that Sbarro? That’ll catch her attention.” Peter said sarcastically and deleted the text.

“have a goodnight :)” He typed out and then shook his head.

“No. Wayyyy too horny.” He sighed and deleted it again.

“night” He wrote out and read it a few times.

“This is good. I can work with this.” He nodded. He was about to workshop it when a text from you popped up.

“pick a color” It said. Peters heart skipped a beat at the vague message and replied with the first color that popped into his head.

“blue”

“thank u” You wrote back within seconds. Peters heart stopped pounded and the disappointment that the conversation was over settled in. After all these years of fighting crime together, you two never really managed to make it past the coworkers stage. He was desperate for more but never knew how to get there.

“no homo but I had fun fighting crime with you today” You suddenly texted again. A smile tugged at Peter’s lips and he touched his as if it were your face.

“ok paw patrol” He wrote back. Back in your room, you were laughing at his text and trying to think of a witty reply.

“ur mad bc you know I’m the chase 🐶” You texted him.

“if ur the Chase then who am I?”

“plssss ur such a marshall” You wrote back.

“but that’s the third most important dog :(“ Peter replied.

“well yes but he’s cute and wears red so the little paw patrol shoe fits” You answered. A blush painted Peters cheeks over you calling him cute but he didn’t want to read too much into it.

“Im wearing red right now😳” He texted back.

“oh I bet you are” You answered, making him laugh. He kept the conversation going for about an hour before duty called once again. Peter groaned and put his suit on before swinging to the scene of the crime. He met you there and stopped the crime before stopping on a nearby rooftop to rest.

“These burglars aren’t very considerate of our sleep schedules. Who robs a Jersey Mikes after midnight? Or, like, ever?” Peter huffed as he tugged his mask off.

“I know. They’re always at inconvenient times. I was in the middle of painting my nails.”

“Can I see?” He asked in a soft voice. You pulled your gloves off and held out your hand for him to see.

“Look. Blue. But I only got half way through before Mike’s was targeted.”

“It’s okay. They still look pretty.” Peter complimented you with a soft smile.

“Thanks. You picked a good color.” You replied.

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“I told you to pick a color. This is why.” You explained and held out your hand again. His eyes lit up at this new information and he took your hand to see your nails closer.

“You let me chose your nail color?” He smiled fondly.

“Well I didn’t know what to chose so I thought I’d ask the audience.” You shrugged and felt shy all of the sudden.

“Oh. And I’m the target audience, huh?” Peter smirked and turned towards you.

“I never said target.” You teased him and shoved him shoulder.

“I must be hearing things, then.” He shrugged as you both smiled.

“Yeah. Must be.” You said in a soft voice as you stared into his eyes. Peter gulped before making a bold move and taking your hand again under the guise of looking at your nails.

“Look at you. You even got my favorite shade.” He noted.

“You like “Eating For Blue”?” You pretended to gasp.

“Is that really the name of the color?” He laughed.

“Uh huh. It was apart of Essie’s baby fever collection. I almost chose “All In Blue Time” but that’s one tends to get little air bubbles and they give me agida. And I used to have “A Dream Come Blue” but it rolled under the sink so it belongs to the dust bunnies now.” You shrugged as you checked out your nails.

“Wow. This is all new information to me. So, are all nail polish colors named after puns and wordplay?” He asked as he stared into your eyes. He didn’t really care, but he was finally getting somewhere with you and didn’t want it to end.

“In my experience, yes. Not always color related wordplay but always something that makes you go yeah, I guess this shade of beige is what the word “ladylike” would be as a color.”

“This is blowing my mind right now.” Peter chuckled.

“You mean blue-ing your mind.” You corrected and tapped the side of your head.

“I think you inhaled too many of those fumes. Because that was not funny.” Peter said through a laugh.

“What?” You pretended to be offended. “You’re literally laughing right now. I’m so funny.”

“You are.” Peter admitted when his laughter died down. You stared into eyes for a minute before smiling.

“Is that what you rumored saw in me?” You asked him.

“Probably.” He chuckled. “I also heard a rumor that I think you’re really pretty. Like, the prettiest girl I was ever rumored to have allegedly seen.”

“Now you’re the one who’s looney from the fumes because that’s a straight up lie. I know you’ve seen prettier girls because I was standing right next to you when Anne Hathaway left that diner.” You said without making eye contact with him. Things were moving a little too fast and you needed it hit the brakes for a second.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right.” Peter forced a laugh and awkwardly looked over at the cityscape when he realized you were politely telling him to pull back.

“But I appreciate it.” You said after a beat of silence.

“Of course. Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking saying that.” He laughed nervously. “I was just getting caught up in the fake dating. We’ve been doing it for so long that it felt real.”

“We only started this morning.” You reminded him.

“Right. Well, it’s late. I’m gonna go home.” He said quickly and stood up. He had just blown that and needed to leave as quickly as possible.

“Okay. Goodnight. See you at school.” You called after him. Peter swung home with tears in his eyes and went straight to bed, missing your text about having fun fighting another crime.

The next day at school, Peter decided to start over and push last night from his mind. He played the part of your boyfriend to the best of his abilities and opened every door, pulled out every seat, and carried ever book for you all day long. Then he did it the next day, and the day after that. He kept his mouth shut about his feelings day in and day out no matter how painful it was getting. You and Peter had finally moved past the coworker stage and become real friends so he didn’t want to sabotage it all by telling you that he spent his days wishing for more.

“What are your plans tonight?” You asked him one day as you walked out of class together.

“My aunt is going out with her friends so I was probably gonna watch a movie on my couch. But on my laptop with my earbuds in. Likely in my boxers. Likely with an entire package of Twizzlers. Why?”

“Well I was gonna suggest that we hang out but you sound booked.”

“Really? You want to hang out?” Peter asked with much more enthusiasm than he intended.

“If you want. I’m not doing anything as exciting as boxers and Twizzlers.”

“I would love to. I’ll put on pants for you. I promise.”

“Sounds good.” You laughed. “Text me your address, okay?”

“Sure. Or you could walk with me now. Unless you’re tired of me and need a break before we hang out.” Peter suggested as you left campus together.

“It’s funny you say that. I was just telling my mom the other day that I never get tired of you.” You said casually.

“You..you don’t?” Peter’s face heated up as he followed you down the sidewalk.

“I don’t. I usually need a break from other people if we’ve been together awhile but it’s different with you. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my social battery if that makes sense.“

“It makes sense.” He smiled shyly as your hands bumped against each others. He was about to make a bold move and take your hand despite no one being around but you suddenly moved it to hit the crosswalk button.

Back at Peter’s apartment, he awkwardly gave you a tour and wished he had picked up his clothes before leaving the house that morning. You didn’t seem to mind the socks and boxers strewn across his room because you were too focused on all the little things he kept on his shelves. You picked up a picture frame of your freshman year high school class that had you and Peter seated right next to each other. Your friendship had only just begun so you often forgot how long you knew him for.

“So this is your room.” You smiled and put the picture back.

“Yup. This is where the magic happens.” Peter said and immediately cringed at himself.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. This is where I practice magic. Wanna see?” He asked and picked up a deck of cards. You laughed and went over to take one.

“Is your card the ace of spades?” He asked.

“Queen of hearts.” You snorted and turned the card around.

“You’re the queen of my heart.” He whispered.

“Did you say something?” You asked as you looked at all his Legos.

“I asked what you wanted to do tonight.” He lied.

“I don’t know. We have the place to ourselves. We could do something rated R.” You said with a coy smile.

“Like what?” Peter gulped.

“Watch an R rated movie, you perv. Your aunt isn’t here to stop you.”

“You remember me telling you that I’m not allowed to watch R rated movies in the living room anymore?” Peter blushed at you remembering something he had randomly told you long ago.

“Are you referring to the time you watched Tusk at full volume while she had her friends from work over for the first time? How could I forget?”

“In my defense, I didn’t know what the movie was about. And I didn’t think her friends were gonna come into the living room and see that guy getting turned into a walrus.”

“Yeah, the title and cover art gave no indication that the movie would end that way. But that’s not a bad idea actually. Let’s watch something scary.”

“Okay.” Peter agreed and followed you out into the living room. He turned off the lights and got some snacks while you picked a movie. He hated scary movies but he was not about to tell you that. Instead, he sat on the couch beside you as a respectful distance and handed you a bag of chips. As the movie went on, you got closer and closer to each other. Peter had never really seen you scared before but you were practically in his lap just 40 minutes into the movie. You reached into the bag of chips at the same time as Peter and your fingers touched. You both froze and looked at each other as your faces heated up.

“Shit. I’m not wearing a condom.” Peter sighed, making you yank your hand out and laugh.

“You’re stupid.” You laughed and turned back to the movie just as a jump-scare happened. You screamed and jumped closer to Peter.

“This is so scary. Why did I pick this movie?” You asked as you drew your knees up and leaned into his side.

“Yeah, same.” He replied, not even listening. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. You were cuddled into his side with your head on his shoulder and knees in his lap with a blanket drawn up to your nose. He knew you were only cuddling him because you were scared but it didn’t even matter at that point. The movie went quiet for a minute and then made a loud sound, sending you to burry your face into Peter’s neck.

“Tell me when it’s safe to come out.” You whispered into his ear. Peter gulped and wrapped an arm around you to fully protect you from the movie.

“I will.” He said in a soft voice. You peaked your head out a few minutes later but stayed nestled into Peter’s side. You realized his arm was around you and smiled a little.

“Oh, this isn’t so bad.” You shrugged as the main character got eaten alive.

“I don’t understand you.” Peter chuckled and looked down at you. You laughed as well as you looked into his eyes. He was about to say something when another sharp sound from the movie caused you to jump.

“Hold my hand.” You blurted and grabbed his hand. Peter happily accepted and clasped your hand before holding it under his chin. You stayed in that position for a long time and watched the movie. You were both so focused on the screen that you didn’t hear May opening the front door and coming in.

“Hey. I’m home.” She said, making you both scream.

“Oh, hi May.” Peter greeted while he realized it was just her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I’m-“

“I know.” She smirked. “I’ll just be in my room. But, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“No going in your room with the door closed, okay? I’m home. And we have thin walls. Just keep that in mind.” She said, making Peter turn bright red.

“Got it, May.” He mumbled. She winked at you and disappeared into her bedroom.

“You told your aunt we were dating?” You whispered to Peter in confusion.

“No.” Peter answered honestly. “I guess she just assumed we were.”

“Wow. She’s just like the kids at school.” You shook your head. “I don’t get it. Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

“I mean…” Peter trailed off and looked down at your clasped hands. You hadn’t realized you were still cuddling and quickly jumped off of him. Peters heart sank and the longer he sat in the absence of your body heat, the more upset he felt.

“You just jumped off of me like I was sharp.” He said without looking at you.

“I didn’t want your aunt to see us cuddling and think-“

“And think what?” He snapped, cutting you off. You gutted your head back in surprise and let out a nervous laugh.

“Woah. What’s going on with you? She already knows about your secret life. We don’t have any reason to pretend we’re dating in front of her.”

Peter stared at you for a long time as the word “pretend” cut into him like a knife. Every time he thought you were going somewhere, he was reminded that it didn’t actually mean anything to you.

“Yeah. You’re right.” He mumbled and looked at the movie again. You kept your eyes on him and felt guilty. You had so much to say to him but you felt unable to speak.

“Peter-“

“I don’t think we should pretend to date anymore.” He blurted, cutting you off once again. Your eyebrows went up in surprise and you got a sick feeling in your tummy that you had just ruined something really important.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s stupid. No one even cares anymore.” He shrugged. “We don’t have to fake a breakup or anything but I don’t want to hold hands or play along anymore. I’m done.”

“What changed?” You asked in a soft voice. He was still looking at the movie while you were fully turned to face him.

“Nothing changed. That’s the problem.” He said and angrily got off the couch. You quickly caught his hand and he stopped. He looked down at the ground and let out a sigh. He knew it wasn’t fair to be mad at you if he hadn’t told you what was wrong. He slowly turned around and looked at you.

“Five years ago, you showed up to the same robbery at an all night CVS that I was at and I realized we knew each other from AP Spanish class because I had asked you earlier that day how to conjugate “poner” and you said “pusiste” and I laughed because I thought you were joking but you weren’t and then that night you heard me tell the burglar that he better“pusiste” the money back into the register.“ Peter began.

“Okay. Wow. That was a really long sentence.” You laughed softly. “But I remember that. I laughed and told you that you better remember that for the test.”

“You did. That’s how I knew it was you.” He smiled at the memory. “I failed that test, by the way. I still can’t conjugate “poner.” And I still think it means “boner” even though I know it’s a verb. But anyway, that night, I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited to have met you. Even though we technically already knew each other, that night put us in each others radars. I could not believe that I had met my match. You’re into science like me and sarcastic like me and you understand this side of my life because you have the same side. But despite running into each other on patrol almost nightly and seeing each other around school, I barely got you to notice me. I don’t think you even knew my name until we ended up going the same college. You called me “Timmy” all throughout high school.”

“You seriously look like one. It’s uncanny. I don’t know what it is.”

“I thought things would change when I found out we were going to the same college. The campus is so small I figured there’s no way we wouldn’t become friends. But even then, we hardly ever talked and when we did it was always about work. I didn’t even know where you lived until last semester.”

“I remember that too. The first night we really bonded was when you fell off that roof because you were trying to show me how to do a backflip.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been able to do a backflip.” He admitted. “I only said I could because you said you always wanted to learn how to do one and I assumed given my abilities I’d be able to do one if I just followed my body. But I busted my ass and you were kind enough to sneak me through your window and patch me up with some Scooby Doo bandaids.”

“It was all I had.” You shrugged.

“And you gave it to me anyway. Because you’re kind and compassionate and I’m just…I’m crazy about you.” Peter finally admitted. “I was so excited when we started hanging out more this semester but it always ended up crushing me when I remembered that we just doing it to keep people from finding out the truth. I really, really love our friendship and if I’m ruining it all by saying all this then at least I can die with it off my chest.”

“Wait, now I’m confused. Are you dying?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “It feels like I am every time you and I start to get close and then I remember this is all pretend for you.”

“So it’s not pretend for you?” You asked quietly. Peter stared into your heads for a minute and then shook his head.

“No. I was never pretending. I like you.” He told you. Your facial expression didn’t change as you stared back at him. Peter was really starting to panic until a smile tugged at your lips.

“Sit back down.” You told him.

“I’m sat.” He said and rushed it sit down. You nestled back into his side and laid your head down on his shoulder. Peter smiled and rested his head on top of yours, finally pleased with the way a conversation with you went. You both turned your attention back to the movie just in time for it to end.

“Hm.” You huffed. “That was supposed to be us symbolically finishing the movie as a real couple but it appears we’ve already arrived at the credits. Now what?”

“We could watch Tusk.” Peter suggested at the same time you said “We could make out.”

“I never actually saw Tusk but I always wanted to.” You gasped and hit his arm with excitement.

“Or we could do your thing.” Peter forced a laugh and tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“Let me see if I can find it.” You said as you scrolled through the streaming services on his TV.

“Or we could do your thing.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

@itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[afterglowsainz]

close to you | carlos sainz, alex albon

pairing: carlos sainz x gf!reader x alex albon

summary: after your boyfriend starts hanging out more with his future teammate, your start catching feelings for him, not knowing that he also seems to be interested in him

fc: different girls from pinterest

request: here

a/n: VIVA MEXICOOOO (that’s literally all i have to say)

—

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername nyc with my loveeee ❤️‍🩹

view all comments

username that picture of carlos actually killed me

username it doesn’t get more it couple than this

username the outfit ateeee

alexandrasaintmleux miss you!

yourusername miss you love, i’ll be back soon 💗

alexandrasaintmleux plssss leo misses his favorite aunt 😩

yourusername 🥺🥺🥺

francisca.cgomes excuse me??

username thank you y/n for the carlos content 🙏🏽

username sooo boyfriend coded

carlossainz55 😍😘

carlossainz55’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 🗽] [caption 2: look who i found 👀 alex_albon]

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and others

alex_albon new york for the day 🥐

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username adorable

username ahhh with carlos and y/n

username love their new friendship

username he’s so cute i need to marry him

yourusername sooo was my bakery recommendation any good? 👀

alex_albon the best!

username actually on the verge of tears for how much i need him

carlossainz55 and the credits to the photographer?

alex_albon credits to carlossainz55 for the picture 🙄

liked alex_albon, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername in case you couldn’t tell by my outfit, i was rooting for the guy in red (who got a podium!!!)

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username CUTIES

username you’re beautiful

username neeeed that jacket

carlossainz55 te amo hermosa 😘 (love you, beautiful)

alexandrasaintmleux my fashion icon

yourusername you’re one to talk!

alex_albon 🙏🏽 (liked by yourusername)

username nahhh the parallels between her picture and his picture go crazyyy

username they’re so meant to be

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and others

alex_albon nice time in quali, now ready for tomorrow 🏎

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username going a bit feral at the moment

yourusername congrats on p9 alex!!

alex_albon thanks y/n! ☺️

username my goat let’s goooo

username the way he’s dragging that tractor to q3 every weekend MUST be studied

carlossainz55 nice one mate 👊🏽

alex_albon thanks!

username is it just me or carlos and y/n seem a bit obsessed with alex these days? 😅

username OMG YES!! i thought i was the only one that noticed

username honestly can you blame them

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: ❤️] [caption 2: 🍸🍸 carlossainz55 alex_albon]

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63 and others

carlossainz55 always playing ⛳️

tagged alex_albon

view all comments

username the way carlos and alex are joined at the hip now

username did NOT expect that type of bond but i’m sooo into it

yourusername sooo happy gilmore

alex_albon it’s funny you say that because that movie was all the prep i had before going golfing

carlossainz55 and i’m trying not to feel offended by that 😁

username they definitely kiss

username omg 😭😭

landonorris likely place for alex to be

carlossainz55 he really tap out after 1

alex_albon there was no need for that

username oh yeah they for sure did it

liked by oscarpiastri, francolapinto and others

alex_albon fun nights 📸

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georgerussell63 lowkey offended you left me out of it

alex_albon 😅

username backwards cap alex backwards cap alex 🚨🚨

username oh to be photographed by alex albon in the back of his car

username guys am i delusional or is that couple carlos and y/n???

username i mean at this point i wouldn’t be surprised 😩😩 they’re together 24/7 now

username no because i see it 👀 it’s for sure them

username alex casually third wheeling them 😭

carlossainz55 😊

yourusername ☺️

alex_albon 😁

username uhmmmm

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

yourusername my boyssss💙

tagged carlossainz55 and alex_albon

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username OMGGG ???? 😭

username i'm obsessed with them already

username this was not on my bingo card AT ALL

username the hard launching hard launch

alexandrasaintmleux finally omg !!!

charles_leclerc finallyyy we can stop listening to them whimpering and crying over alex

yourusername omg shut uppp 😭

alex_albon wait i’m curious what else do you know

alexandrasaintmleux oh the amount of things we know you have no idea

charles_leclerc they had biggest crush on you mate i swear

carlossainz55 if you don’t shut up i’ll kidnap leo and raise him as my own

alexandrasaintmleux charles shut up

charlesleclerc 🤐

alex_albon 😔

username when the hottest couple you know was simping for the same man 😩

username so many things make so much sense now

username i love them 💙💙💙 go williams or whatever they say

[hoshifighting]

latino!mingyu

WARNINGS: smut, latino life, im jus kidding (ou não também), mentions of alcohol, flipping the cap before kissing you, fingering, oral, dirty talk, hair pulling, public-teasing, public-make out.

if nobody said it, i will. MINGYU LATINO!!! mingyu who, no matter where he is, somehow finds a reason to grab a beer, and yeah, it's gotta be ice cold. “wanna pilsen, babe?” he’s already tossing one your way before you can answer. like, let’s be real here, this man drinks anything that remotely resembles beer. pilsen, brahma, skol, corona? he’s down. anything to cool off that tanned, toned-ass body of his after playing fútbol/futebol/soccer, anyways, for way too long just ‘cause he knows you’re watching. and when that shirt comes off? goddamn, everybody in the surroundings is drooling. mingyu knows it too, that cocky grin spreading across his face, and you're just trying to act normal. but it’s impossible when the man is literally glowing under the scorching sun.

he danced at his cousin’s quinceanera/festa de 15. of course, he did. he’s that hot cousin, the one all the aunties fawn over, talking about how he’s grown up so well, while the guys on the block are salty ‘cause their girls won’t stop staring when he's shirtless walking in havaianas flip-flops. he’s out there, not giving a damn, smiling, swaying his hips to reggaeton with you, and trust—he’s glued to your ass like you owe him something. or clapping his hands and asking you to dance samba with him. you roll your eyes, but you’re lowkey hyped up by his attention. that man is always hyping you up, calling you “amor/cariño/gatinha/mama/bebe” like it’s a full-time job.

every party, every gathering, someone’s got him dancing with their cousin, their sister, their aunt even (and he’s good at it).

mingyu who comes to your ear, whispering dirty things, just to see you getting all wet. “you look so fuckin’ good tonight, mama. can’t wait to get you back home and ruin that dress.”

he says it like it’s a casual thing, with that smirk of his. the kinda smirk that says he knows you’re weak for him, the way you flush when he so much as drags his fingers up your arm. and he’s not wrong. you could play it off cool, but he’s already in your head, already got you thinking about what’s gonna happen later.

mingyu who's skin is so damn hot, like he’s a human furnace, and you swear it’s impossible to cuddle with him for too long without needing a breather. the dude radiates heat like no one else, and even though you love the way he wraps around you—those big arms pulling you tight, holding you like he’s never gonna let go—there’s always that moment where you’re like, “okay, I need to cool the fuck down before I melt into a puddle.” and he always laughs about it, gives you that lazy smile while you’re fanning yourself, like, “what? too hot to handle?”

but the thing is, it’s not just about the heat. there’s something else in the way mingyu touches u, like he’s always trying to get as close as possible. sometimes, he has no shame in it—like when he gets that look in his eyes, and next thing you know, he’s got you pinned against a random house on the street, his mouth crashing into yours. tongue and tongue and tongue, his lips moving against yours like he’s starving for you. his hands? they’re everywhere—flying down to grab your ass, squeezing like he owns it, pulling you closer, so you can feel just how bad he wants you.

and oh my god, when he turns his cap backward before kissing you? dead. you know it's coming—the way he runs a hand through his hair, then flips that hat around. it’s such a small move, but fuck, it drives you insane every time. like he’s gearing up for something more, and you know that look means he’s about to ruin you in the best way possible. no warning, he just dives in, lips pressing hard, tongue slipping inside your mouth, claiming you. he kisses like it’s his job—wet, messy, and so fucking good you lose yourself in it every time.

then there’s mingyu in bed. and the man’s got skills 😭, and he knows it. when he’s behind you, hands in your hair, pulling just enough to make your back arch, it’s game over. you’re a mess, and he’s thriving off it, low growls escaping him as he fucks you from behind, his hips slamming into yours with that steady, unforgiving rhythm. he’s so into it—one hand gripping your hair, the other on your waist, guiding you, pulling you back onto him. and he doesn’t just pull your hair like it’s a casual thing—oh no. he pulls it slow, but then suddenly he yanks harder as if he's silently telling you “this is mine. you’re mine.”

and don’t even get started on his fingers. mingyu’s got the best fingers, and he knows exactly how to use them. whether it’s slow and teasing, dragging it out until u’re practically begging, or fast and rough, working you up until you can barely think straight—he’s a pro at this shit. sometimes, he’ll have u spread out, fingers deep inside you, curling them, head bobbing as he sucks your clit. and he watches you fall apart under his touch? it’s like he’s studying every reaction, committing it to memory so he can wreck you even harder next time.

but the dirtiest thing about mingyu? it’s the way he talks when you’re in public and trying to keep it together. you know the type—when you’re at dinner or out with friends, and you’re trying to be normal, trying to focus on the conversation, but mingyu’s sitting next to u, whispering the filthiest shit in your ear. his voice is low, just for you, and no one else at the table has a clue what’s going on.

“bet you’re so fuckin’ wet for me right now, aren’t you, baby? can feel how bad you want it.”

and he says it all casual, like he’s not making you clench your thighs together under the table, trying to keep from giving yourself away. but he knows, and he’s not letting up. his hand brushes your leg under the table, fingertips barely grazing your thigh, and your heart’s pounding because you know what he’s doing.

“if i slid my hand up your skirt right now, you’d be soaked. don’t lie, mama. i can see it in your eyes.”

and it’s so fucking hard not to react, not to moan right then and there. but you can’t. you won’t. because you're in public, surrounded by people, and the last thing you need is to let everyone in on the fact that mingyu’s got you trembling in your seat. but he loves it, loves seeing you try to hold it together, that smug grin playing on his lips as he watches you squirm. “gonna take you home later,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “will make you cream on my cock, make you scream my name. don’t think you’ll be so quiet then.”

it’s all you can do to keep breathing, to keep pretending like you’re fine when, really, all you want is for mingyu to make good on every dirty promise he’s whispered in your ear. and you know he will.

[jymwahuwu]

Oop— the thought of Capitano as a father-to-be being extremely doting, confusing Fatui agents at how endearing he is basically bending over backwards to ensure your needs are met (and yeah a lot of times HE is the one to do it if he feels others are incompetent or not capable to care for HIS sweet wife and unborn baby)

I’d also think he’d be super super protective. That seems obvious but in the 5.1 trailer he did say “humanity deserves to survive at any cost” and if he had the choice “he’d go back to save everyone” or something along those lines yeah? Me thinks he’s lost a ton of people and is dealing with a bare minimum of survivors guilt and trauma :(

So giving this man a baby lowkey see him having a daughter is bound to bring out some intense traits in him lmao

Lowkey tho, it’s also kinda hot to think of Capitano becoming Papatano and literally threatening to burn the world with his own two hands if it meant protecting his newfound family 😳

Ahhhh this is so cute💖💖💖I love the overprotective Capitano

You're right, Capitano's traumatic experience (we still don't know what it was) has led him to protect the people who matter to him at all costs. After learning that you were pregnant, the number of Fatui members assigned to protect you tripled. The books you read, the games you play, and the food you eat are all checked. Don't allow any crisis to lurk around you.

Capitano spends more time with you. He talks to you about the baby, like their names, until you point out that it's a little too far ahead to assume the baby's future career right now??? Imagine him walking around with the baby on his shoulders.

Arlecchino: …?

Dottore: …^-^?

Tartaglia: Is this how powerful people live?

All in all, he was grateful that he still had the chance to live a happy life. He will protect you and your baby, even if it means he sometimes needs to burn down rotten branches. This is also his responsibility as Fatui.

[katiekatdragon27]

Hey. Hey, guys. You'll never guess what I've been drawing.

Glisten: ...??

Glisten and his lame ass boyfriends!!!!!! Cheers to art dumps <3

[CW: SUGGESTIVE JOKE] More doodles below cut:

So! I know most of you come for the shinyshrimp stuff (WHICH WE WILL GET TO) but let me yap about Glisten and Razzle for a bit.

I LOVE YOU GLITTERMASK THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU GLITTERMASK-

Glisten and Razzle got together like 3 months after Glisten and Boxten broke up. Razzle never really looked to Glisten that much outside of acquaintances (cuz he was kinda sorta lowkey jealous of Glisten's charisma and stage-presence). In fact, they were much more focused on Vee and maybe possibly had a crush on her, which is really funny in hindsight with Dazzle lol. However, after learning that Vee was a lesbian/being very rudely rejected by her, Razzle found comfort in Glisten and fell head-over-heels almost immediately.

The only problem is, Razzle has -10000 aura. His ass cannot be flirty or cool-charismatic at all.

Glisten: What do you do when you aren't distracting? Razzle: (Glisten likes mysterious people) I sell drugs!! Glisten: ... Excuse me? Razzle: (But Glisten also likes kind people) But ONLY to kids in need! Dazzle: (STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP-) *defeated whimper*

Razzle thinks he's that guy (they're not, they're pathetic honestly lol)

Also like, Razzle is suuuper dense when it comes to everyone except Dazzle. They struggle with self-reflection and other-people reflection, so he is completely convinced he is doing all the right things, when in actuality, they are very very very cringe.

Razzle: No see Dazzie, this is why they call me Rizzle. Dazzle: (No one has EVER called you that.)

Denseness is one hell of a drug, aye, fellas?

Dazzle is being pulled through the wringer trying to preserve whatever was left of her (and Razzle's) pride. It's not working. Girl is fighting for their life every time she is dragged over by Razzle in order to say a horrible pick-up line to Glisten.

(This is all pre-relationship btw. After they get together it becomes an inside joke and Glisten retorts with his own awful (although not nearly as bad) pick-up lines)

Now the moment you've been waiting forrrr 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

✨ Shinyshrimp ✨

I love them chat, I love them sm. They have so much drama and love and interesting things going on, they're so cool and fun n stuff and AUGHHHHH💥💥💥

Shrimpo being that one guy who craves affection but would literally bite anyone who gives it to him is so real to me. Homie wants a hug but ends up suplexing whoever hugged him outta reflex. Glisten, on the other hand, is one of the most affectionate people ever. He's not affectionate to everyone, but when you catch his interest (both platonic and romantic), he is very verbally and physically affectionate. He'll buy you things, he'll give you hugs, he'll let you invade his personal space, all stuff he would never let normies do.

Shrimpo loves this, however, homie has no idea how to deal with any kind of affection in a positive way. Cat-coded ahh guy. Glisten does find this amusing tho, so he's more inclined to be affectionate with Shrimpo to help him "get over it" in a way.

This is just for shits and giggles. I feel like everyone should draw this meme with their ships. It's a canon event at this point.

What can I say? He was hungry.

Can't forget my fankids. I love my fankids. I miss my fankids. I need to draw my fankids more istg I need to revamp their ask blog soon (especially with some new editions coming soon).

Also Hamlet looks smaller because most of his internal structure is made of ribbon and stuffing, so he shrinks into a ball when happy. He also loafs like a cat, what a guy.

Also also also what the skibidi sigma happened to my prep-jock ship?? Why is it backwards???

I drew these because I had a vision of the little doodle below and only thought it would work if they were swaped... sooooo... here we are.

Scapmi is a preppy goth-ish shrimp with an eye for fashion and artistry. With a smart mouth and a massive ego, he often comes off as an annoyance to others. He loves to be front and center in everything but often has to fight with his internalized idea that everything is a competition that he needs to win no matter what. It causes him a lot of stress and self-doubt, but he'd never let anyone see his weaknesses.

Gash is a shrap-toned violent mirror who speaks more with his fists than his voice. He hates everything that is not himself (and sweets) and makes sure people know that. He used to be a perfectionist, but after an accident permanently cracked his face, he dropped his "perfect" persona in favor of a messy, more hateful one. He wants connection but doesn't know how to express his needs in an understandable way, and that frustrates him immensely.

As you can see, match made in heaven.

Gash: DUDE, WHAT THE F*CK!? Scampi: There's a smudge on you- Gash: I DON'T CARE! LET GO!! Scampi: Not 'til I'm done. (Your natural blush is gorgeous; shame it's on you tho)

So yeah, swap shinyshrimp lore drop yippee.

Have a good one chat, til I reappear again✌️✌️

[soulessjourney]

Shattered Bonds

A/N: I'm back after a very much long needed break! Between starting a new job and graduating, things have been super hectic. So, why not come back with an angsty fanfic with Azriel? I also may or may not be working on the long-awaited part 2 of 'Exile'.

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: After being injured in battle, Azriel is consumed by guilt. But when you finally wake, you're confronted with the harsh reality that perhaps you were always replaceable.

Warnings: Violence, Language, hurt no comfort, Azriel lowkey is a dick, Injured Reader, Angst, Duel(ish) POV, Mentions of pregnancy

Death and smoke fill your lungs. A sticky substance clings to your skin, though at this point, you're unsure if it’s yours or someone else’s. Metal clashes against metal, and your hands sting from both the vibration and the rawness caused by gripping the sword's hilt. You pivot on your foot, turning quickly to keep up with your opponent, your blades moving at lightning speed. Then, you feel a foot slam into your stomach, sending you flying backward across the rough brick ground. The surface tears into your skin like tiny knives, shredding your clothes in the process.

You scramble to your feet, your eyes darting around for your attacker. Instead, they land on a blue glow and dark hair. Azriel. But before you can process this, a sharp pain stabs your side. Gasping, you turn and plunge your sword into your attacker, your eyes blazing with fury. You lock onto the wide eyes of your victim just as another sharp pain strikes your stomach. Looking down, you see something silver protruding from your abdomen.

Green wisps shoot out from you, your lip curling as blood dribbles from the corner of your mouth. You drive the sword deeper into him as he begins to gag, foam forming at the edges of his mouth. You watch as he collapses to the ground, clawing at his neck before eventually falling still. Staggering back, you wince at the ever-growing burn in your abdomen, the green wisps swirling as if seeking something.

You fall back against the crumbling building behind you, sliding down the wall as you tilt your head back, feeling the weight of your exhaustion. Your vision blurs, your mind hazy, as you clutch your stomach, finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. A red glow catches your attention, and someone sprints toward you, dropping to their knees, unsure hands hovering over your wound.

“Cassian?” Your voice is frail, barely a whisper. If your mother could hear you now, she’d be laughing in pure disappointment.

Cassian smiles down at you and gently brushes the hair from your face. “Hey there, Bug. Hang on for me, alright? Azriel is coming.” You smile at the nickname he gave you when you were younger, back when you had an obsession with ladybugs.

Nodding, you close your eyes and lean into him. “It hurts, Cass,” you mumble, wincing as you shift, trying to find some comfort.

“I know, I know. But you did such a good job,” he whispers, combing your hair back before pressing his hands firmly against your wound to stem the bleeding.

The world around you seems to darken, and you glance up to meet the eyes of your mate. Smiling weakly, you reach out to him. “Hey, Az,” you whisper as your eyes flutter closed. His horrified expression tells you everything—the wound isn’t something that can be easily fixed. In other words, it’s a "you might die" kind of wound. Joy.

Azriel looked pale, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes widened. He gently pulls you toward him, holding you close as his thumb strokes softly across your cheek. His gaze darts around frantically before locking onto Cassian.

“We need to get her back. She’s not going to survive. Let Rhys and the others know,” he says, urgency clear in his voice.

Leaning into him, you feel the comforting embrace of his shadows surrounding you. Your eyes grow heavy, and before long, sleep overtakes you.

Azriel paced around the room as you lay motionless in the bed. Every glance at you gnawed at his heart, guilt consuming him. His shadows hadn't left your side, hovering as if trying to heal you somehow. His pacing came to an abrupt stop when his brothers and Madja entered the room. Azriel didn’t miss the more somber expressions they wore, and even Madja's eyes seemed duller than before.

He turned to them, desperation shining in his gaze. “Well? What did Madja say?” he asked, his voice tight with anxiety. Cassian and Rhysand exchanged a look, as if communicating silently. Cassian nodded, then pursed his lips before facing Azriel.

“Well, there’s a chance Y/N could make it,” Cassian said gently.

Azriel felt as though his ears were ringing. A chance. Just a chance that you might wake up and survive. It wasn't a guarantee, only a possibility. His frustration boiled over. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Can’t we do something to wake her? If not, why did we even bring her back?” he spat, his shadows retracting toward him, draping over his shoulders like a dark cape.

Madja shook her head as she finished changing the dressing on your wounds. “We’ve done all we can, boy. It's her fight now. I suggest you stay here—if she wakes, the first thing she’ll want is her mate,” Madja said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “You need to be there for her, as she has been for you countless times.”

With that, she nodded to the brothers and quietly left the room, the door clicking softly behind her.

Azriel clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring at the ground. Cassian, already knowing what his brother was about to say, gently gripped his shoulder. “It’s not—”

“But it is my fault," Azriel snapped. "She wanted to stay behind and protect Feyre and the others, and I convinced her to come because I couldn’t bear to be away from her for so long. She was unsure of her skills, and I talked her into it. I’m to blame for all of this. I almost got my mate killed.” He spun, his gaze shifting between his brothers and you.

Rhysand sighed, pushing off the wall he had been leaning against. “Az, Cassian’s right. You can’t blame yourself for this. Y/N was already set on coming. She talked to me about it—she was worried about you and didn’t want to leave you stranded in battle while she stayed behind.”

Azriel let out a low growl, his siphons flashing, causing Cassian to tense. “Either way, I couldn’t protect her. And now look at her—she’s fighting for her life, and I don’t know if she’ll ever wake up.” He stepped closer to you, sinking into the chair beside your bed and gently taking your hand. “Just give me some time alone. I need to think while still being here for her,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on your chest, searching for any sign of your shallow breathing.

Cassian opened his mouth to respond, but Rhysand placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Silently, Cassian closed his mouth, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room, Rhysand following close behind. The door clicked shut, leaving Azriel alone in the deafening silence.

Azriel let his eyes trace over your face, as if committing every feature, every imperfection to memory. Gently, he ran his fingers through your hair and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve stayed by your side, like you asked. I shouldn’t have fought with you about it. You needed me, and I turned my back on you, and this is the result.”

He felt like a danger to you. Even if you survived, he believed he would only continue to put you in harm's way. You could never have a peaceful life with him. All he wanted was for you to be safe and happy, but he’d failed when it mattered most. You were his entire universe, and yet he couldn’t protect you. He had convinced himself that by staying by his side, you would never be safe—that he didn’t deserve you, not if it meant you ended up like this.

The door creaked open, and Elain poked her head in, glancing around. Stepping in, she cleared her throat softly. “Oh, Azriel, I didn’t realize you’d be here. I thought you were still with Madja and the others,” she said gently. Noticing his gaze on the moon lilies, she smiled and approached the table next to your bed. “Moon lilies. They were her favorite. For a while, I thought she was going to take over the whole garden with them. Luckily, I talked her into taking over the area by the pond. It’s beautiful with the flowers there,” Elain said, smiling down at you.

Azriel looked up at Elain, his expression unreadable. Letting go of your hand, he stood and cleared his throat. “Speaking of the flowers, I saw you loading the cart earlier. I assume you’re making rounds around Velaris to hand them out. Would you like some help?” he asked, his voice even.

Their eyes met, and Elain studied him for a moment, as if searching for the intent behind his offer. After a brief hesitation, she nodded and motioned toward the door.

You pace around the room, your leathers hugging you tightly. Nesta had spent hours wrestling with your hair, her shaky hands finally managing to braid it back. She’d have a fit if she saw the strands that had already fallen loose. Chewing on your nail, your gaze snaps to Azriel, who watches you from the bed. “I don’t know about this, Az. We still don’t know what I’m capable of. What if I hurt the wrong person?” you ask, your pacing quickening slightly.

Azriel huffs as he continues sharpening Truth-Teller. “Stop worrying so much. It’s war, Y/N. Accidents are going to happen. You can’t always prevent them. One day, you’ll have to face the reality of what you can do and accept it. I can’t always be there to shield you from the harsh truths.” His tone is sharp, and it brings you to an abrupt halt.

“I’m not asking you to shield me, Azriel. I’m asking you to be there if I lose control,” you push back, crossing your arms over your chest. Azriel tenses at the use of his full name.

Setting the dagger in his lap, he turns to face you. “And I can’t do that. My place is by Rhysand’s side, and you know that. I can’t abandon him just to keep you safe all the time. This is your chance to learn how to handle things on your own for once.”

A dry laugh escapes you, and you throw your hands up in frustration. “I never asked you to abandon him, Azriel! You were the one who insisted I come with you—especially when we don’t know what I’m capable of or that I can’t control these abilities yet. So, I’m sorry if I’m a little scared,” you say, your voice catching.

Azriel scoffs as he stands, gathering his things. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Y/N. And if not, just don’t die. We don’t need more problems weighing down the court.” His words hit you like a blow, leaving you speechless, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Taking your silence as an answer, Azriel turns his back and walks out of the room, leaving you standing there, staring at the door.

Your eyes snap open as a rush of air fills your lungs. Choking, you cough violently, feeling a hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles. Your body tenses at the unfamiliar touch, and you instinctively jerk back, putting distance between yourself and the unknown figure.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s okay,” a familiar voice reassures. As your vision clears, you find yourself face to face with Cassian, his frown deepening at your reaction.

Relaxing slightly, you offer him a small smile and shift back into your original position. “Where’s Azriel?” you ask, noticing something flicker in his eyes, though you can’t quite identify the emotion. Maybe you weren’t fully awake enough to process it. Glancing around the room, you spot a few vases of dead flowers and a subtle change in the decor. Confusion clouds your face. “Cassian, how long have I been asleep?”

Cassian clears his throat, looking away as he gathers his thoughts. “It’s been about ten months,” he finally says.

It feels like a jolt of electricity surges through you. Ignoring his protests, you slide out of bed and limp toward the window. “Ten months? How—what—there’s no way,” you mutter, staring at your reflection in the glass. You turn your head from side to side, inspecting your appearance. Your face had slimmed significantly, and your eyes were slightly sunken. You still looked like yourself, but there was something off, something different. “Cassian, where is Azriel? Is he on a mission?”

Cassian sighs, running a hand over his face as he averts his gaze once again. “It’s better if I show you rather than tell you,” he mutters, glaring toward the door. “Get cleaned up, and once you’re ready, we’ll head downstairs,” he says, moving to sit on one of the couches. “I’ll wait here. Take your time.”

Nodding slowly, you turn toward the bathroom and walk in to bathe. You were somewhat clean, but it was clear they had only managed to wash the areas they could reach with a small towel. At least they had taken care of you, in some way. Stepping into the bath, you sink into the water, staring blankly at the wall. Ten months. You had been in that state for ten months, leaving your family to wait and worry.

Your thoughts drift to Azriel. Why hadn’t he been there when you woke? Why did the other end of the bond feel so empty and cold?

Sucking in a deep breath, you tug on the bond, holding it tight as you wait for a response. But when none comes, your heart clenches. Panic sets in as you hurriedly finish bathing and dressing. Throwing the door open, you face Cassian. “Has something happened to Azriel? Is he alright?”

Cassian lets out a dry snort and stands. “Yeah, something happened,” he mutters, offering you his arm. Taking it, you shoot him a confused look as the two of you walk together. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.”

As you and Cassian descend the stairs, the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and silverware fill the air. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you step into the room. Mor is the first to notice you, her eyes brimming with tears as she suddenly stands and rushes toward you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Please don’t tell me this is a dream,” she rasps, clinging to you.

You and Mor had always been like sisters. Growing up surrounded by the boys, her arrival in your life had been a blessing.

“It’s not a dream,” you whisper, hugging her back just as tightly. But after a few moments, you feel Mor tense, as if she suddenly remembered something. She pulls away, giving you a sad smile that only deepens your confusion. As you look around the room, everyone avoids your gaze, though a palpable tension hangs in the air, laced with something like anger.

Your eyes shift between them, trying to understand, until they finally land on Azriel. He sits frozen, fork midair, eyes wide, body rigid. Next to him, Elaine quickly looks away, nervously biting her lip—a habit she had whenever she felt guilty about something.

“Azriel?” you call out, your voice trembling slightly. The sound of his name seems to snap him out of his stupor, and he drops his fork, spilling his drink onto Elaine’s lap.

Elaine stands abruptly, and your eyes widen in shock. Before you, a very pregnant Elaine rises, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. Your gaze travels downward, catching the glint of a ring on her finger. “You and Lucien finally made it official?” you ask, a smile breaking across your face. “I’m so happy for you!” You laugh, but the sound dies quickly when you notice everyone else’s glances shifting toward Azriel.

That’s when you see it—something you had somehow missed before. On his finger, where he once wore the engagement ring meant for you, sits a wedding band, one that matches Elaine’s.

A chill runs down your spine as your eyes snap back to his. The room feels suddenly colder, and you feel the ground give way beneath you.

“No…” you whisper, your vision blurring as the weight of it all crashes down on you.

The ring on your finger suddenly felt like it was searing into your skin, and you blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from falling. "This is a joke, right? Some sick prank you both decided to pull?" When silence met your words, the rage inside you began to swell, and your breathing quickened. "So you’re telling me that while I was fighting for my life, you were out here screwing Elain, and somewhere along the way, you got married—and the best part? She’s pregnant?"

Something snapped inside you, and from the corner of your eye, you saw green wisps materialize, curling around you like tendrils of raw power.

Rhysand stood abruptly, and Cassian shifted closer to Nesta, instinctively protective. “Y/N, you need to breathe. I understand you're angry, but this isn’t the place to test your abilities after being asleep for ten months,” Rhysand said, trying to calm you.

You shook your head, fists clenched. “You want me to calm down? My supposed mate left me to rot in that room, just so he could chase after Elain. He abandoned me and every promise he made! I didn’t ask to be in that room—I didn’t ask to get hurt. So why should I bow down to your request when the real traitor is right here in front of all of you!”

With a final burst of fury, a smoky green tendril shot out, aimed directly at Azriel and Elain. His shadows barely blocked the blow. Elain screamed, curling in on herself to protect her stomach, while Azriel staggered back, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions surging through the bond. The betrayal, the hurt, the rage—all of it hit him like a wave, causing him to drop to his knees, gasping for breath.

You stepped closer, looming over him, and pulled the ring from your finger, letting it fall to the ground in front of him. Azriel picked it up without hesitation, his eyes wide with guilt.

"Don’t look at me like that, Azriel. It makes you look pathetic," you spat. "You chose this the moment you left me in that room to chase after Elain. After 200 years together, I was never going to compare to her, even as your mate. You’ve made it clear, Azriel—I’m replaceable."

You took a step back, but Azriel’s hand shot out, catching yours in desperation. “Y/N, you don’t understand—you can’t do this. Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, his voice broken, his face twisted with regret.

Seeing him on his knees, begging—it made you feel sick.

You pulled your hand away, standing tall as the green tendrils swirled and coiled around you, making you seem larger than life. "I can, because you left me to die the moment you chose Elain over me. You made your bed, Azriel—now lie in it. Don’t bother looking for me, because if you do, I’ll do everything in my power to destroy you."

With those final words, you turned and walked out, leaving behind your family, your home, and every happy memory you once held dear. All that was left was anger and a thirst for vengeance.

A/N: I do hope you guys enjoyed! It may not be the best after a long time away, but I figured it was a great way to finally make my comeback after so long!

[amoressb]

☆ LOWKEY

pairings : childhood bsf!riki x reader ; friends to lovers

synopsis : in which you and riki have been best friends since you guys were in kindergarten. youre both now in your last year of high school and with all that time together, people would think that you guys were bound to end up falling for each other, right? well, that seems to only be the case for riki. hes fallen in love with you after all this time, especially since you guys tend to flirt constantly, but he knows you dont feel the same. right? either way, he doesnt want to risk losing you so he tries to keep his love for you on the lowkey. will it work?

☆.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.☆

i dont wanna watch anymore

smau + little written part

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once rikis practice finished, you remembered jake wanted to meet at the cafe so you started to gather your stuff. “where you off to pretty?” riki asks confused seeing you pack up faster than before. “oh im going to meet someone at a cafe” you say finished with gathering everything up.

riki didnt want to ask who so he just nods. you grab his arm gently and kiss his cheek. “if i dont msg or call you later ill see you at 6:30 tmr okay?” you smile walking backwards to the door. “alright see you pretty” he waves smiling but having a bad feeling.

you finally arrived at the cafe and waved at jake through the window. he got up and you both hugged each other. “wanna order?” he asks and you said yes. after a bit you both get your drinks and walk out. “alright so where to?” you ask sipping on your drink. he offered the idea of just walking around for now and go into any store that intrigues you both.

you both took the walk as an easy way to catch up. after all it has been a while since you two have hung out. you both expressed how happy and ready you both are for winter break and shared your possible plans. soon after jake found a lego store and you cant believe you forgot how crazy he is for legos. “you can choose any you like im gonna go look around!” as soon as he said that he immediately ran off which left you laughing.

while looking around you found some lego keychains. right there you thought about riki. maybe riki would like to match keychains with you? you smiled at the thought and looked at all the options and came to the conclusion of getting a spiderman and gwen(spiderwoman) keychain. “what did you end up finding?” jake pops up all of a sudden surprising you. “i like these two keychains! this ones for riki so we can match!” you have a huge smile on your face showing him the keychains. jake bought everything and you guys continued to walk.

although jake does like you, like he said he respects riki. so this genuinely makes him happy seeing how even if you two arent around each other, you still find a way to mention riki. this seems to be a good time to bring it up.

“soo ik you and riki are close of course but you ever think of taking if further? or do you see him in any other way?” that question confused you because it was random but it also made you feel something at the mention of riki. did you see riki in another way? then again you had that moment after his practice, you thought he looked ethereal even after he was all sweaty after dancing.

“idk maybe, i did see him a bit different after practice but i try not to. i dont want to risk anything so id say no” and that was his confirmation. yes you two flirt alot but you both do it as a joke even though everyone sees the heart eyes you both have for each other. of course especially riki.

the rest of the evening jake kept bringing the convo back to riki and stating how you should try and show him how you feel. its weird how he kept giving you good advice about it all when youve never even seen him with any girl. heck youve only ever seen him get rejected once. makes you wonder whats he up to?

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚ ⋅

☆.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.：*・.。.：*。.：*・.☆

*sorry the written part is not too good i was rushing it a bit :(

taglist - @notab1tchwho @ruth-odyssey @kyuremp3 @heartheejake @heenzie @annoyingbitch83 @getoxo @sunooluuvr @moony-mari @luvgiselle @yjwxfxr @crimson-reaper576 @jungwonsjellies @ikeulove @inaisis @jiiyen @stvrriki @keylimejake @seungminsapuppy @who-tf-soddhi @pshwrldd @enhytan @reikaxslvr @i03jae @jkslvsnella @kamfaye @yangjungwonnie @babygirlskz98 @heirdollies @noiiny @brendz00 @gaytron3000 @nctrawberries @aishigrey @h33seungz00 @en-ctzen @bananna-12 @rikidaze @nikistar @lilifiedeans @vixialuvs @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @jenniferecand @jakeslvt @swanyvess @kittsnewera @rairaiblog @haerinheartss @hooneyz-luver @rikikiynikilcykiki

[zeroses-world]

lowkey highkey feeling like reverting to my old ways of the OG react situation, so like what about SKZ walking in on you changing and their reactions

is this very 2020 of me? yes. but i need some good ol reliable

Very 2020 but Valid i did this with WayV so no complaints here

StrayKids walking in on you changing

Bang Chan

He freezes mid-step, eyes going wide as he immediately turns around. "Oh—! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" He slaps a hand over his eyes for good measure and fumbles for the door handle like his life depends on it. "I swear I didn't see anything—well, not much—I mean, nothing at all!" He's already out the door before he embarrasses himself further, and later, he'll awkwardly apologize while avoiding eye contact.

Lee Know

He walks in, sees you mid-change, and just stands there for a second, processing. "Oh," he says, tilting his head. Then, completely unbothered, he smirks. "Well, don't stop on my account." Before you can throw something at him, he’s already laughing and closing the door, making sure to tease you about it later just to see you flustered.

Changbin

The door barely cracks open before he realizes what's happening. "OH MY—!" He immediately slams it shut, his voice going a little too high-pitched as he stumbles backward. "I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING, I SWEAR!" You can hear him on the other side of the door, clearly panicking, probably questioning all of his life choices up to this moment.

Hyunjin

He gasps dramatically, covering his own eyes with both hands like he's in a drama. "I AM SO SORRY!" He spins around so fast he nearly trips over himself, fumbling to get out of the room. "I SHALL ERASE THIS FROM MY MEMORY IMMEDIATELY!" (Spoiler: He absolutely will not forget, and his ears will be red for the next hour.)

Han

The second he realizes what he walked into, he lets out an awkward squeak, slams the door shut, and just runs. No words, no explanation, just straight-up vanishing like he’s in an action movie. Later, when you see him again, he refuses to make eye contact and pretends like it never happened—until you bring it up, and then he’ll be a stuttering mess.

Felix

He gasps audibly, eyes going wide like a deer caught in headlights. "Oh my gosh—!" He instantly turns away but stays frozen in place, hands hovering awkwardly like he doesn't know whether to leave or apologize first. "I—I didn’t mean to—uh—should I—" He’s still standing there, flustered, until you tell him to just leave, at which point he scrambles out with a bright red face.

Seungmin

He steps in, sees you, and immediately deadpans: "Nice." Then, without breaking eye contact, he slowly backs out and closes the door behind him like nothing happened. He won’t say a word about it later—but if you bring it up, he’ll just smirk and say, "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

I.N

The poor maknae turns into a human tomato the second he realizes what’s happening. "Oh my gosh—I—AH—!" He slams the door shut so fast he nearly breaks the hinges, then stands outside for a solid minute just panicking. Later, he’ll be too embarrassed to bring it up, but you’ll catch him avoiding your gaze with pink ears for the rest of the day.

[calicoups]

human shield

encountering strangers at a house party can be nice, while other times it can be...not what you expect. not to worry! here comes your big boyfriend to save you.

info seungcheol x reader, comfort (i lowkey don't know how to categorise this), reader is smaller than cheol, unwanted attention from strangers, 1139 words. hani's note i'm back pookies 😝 i have some more in store for you all coming soon! anyways, i hope you enjoy this and pls interact with it by liking commenting/reblogging <3

music boomed throughout the place and you watched as your friends move to the current song playing with grins on their face, belting out lyrics every now and then.

it had been a while since you all had hung out with each other, each of you being held down with work and taking up extra shifts or tasks to help colleagues. you were more than relieved when your friends realised that their free time had finally aligned with the whole groups and suggested an activity to do together which is how you all ended up at a...house party?

okay, maybe a house party wasn't something you would have liked to spend precious time with your friends. originally, you had planned to do a few rounds at go-karting but the place had turned out to be closed on the day you all agreed for the hang out. bummed out and a little annoyed, seokmin had been quick to bring up a house party that would be hosted by his friend. most of your friends had perked up and said that it would be a little refreshing to attend the party, that it'll allow you all to relax after facing all the stress from your respective work lives.

so here you are, leaning against the wall with seungcheol on your right. the two of you had been dancing with the others for a while but soon became a little exhausted and moved to the side to catch your breaths.

from the corner of your eye, you see seungcheol turn to you, "i'm a little thirsty, are you?"

"oh, yeah. i really need a drink right now, would you mind?" you tilt your head and watch as he smiles at you.

seungcheol shakes his head and pinches your cheek, "i don't mind at all, baby. stay right here, okay? i'll be back."

he disappears into the crowd and your eyes linger there for a few seconds before flitting away to look for your friends. as expected, seokmin and soonyoung are still dancing, they stop to drag wonwoo into the mix who protests at first but joins in with a smile.

however, your view becomes obstructed as two men approach you, your smile dropping. it's a little intimidating but you're sure you can handle a little chat if that's what they want.

one of them speaks up, "hey, cutie. are you alone out here?" he gestures behind him with a thumb before continuing, "we can keep you company!"

from the way he started his conversation you can tell how he definitely does not want just a little chat so you decide not to entertain him or his friend, "no, thank you. my boyfriend is here with me."

but they laugh when you say that and look at each other sceptically, "boyfriend?" one of them asks, almost in disbelief. there's a smell of cigarettes and alcohol coming from them and it makes your nose scrunch up slightly.

his friend steps forward, "where is he? don't see him here..." he pretends to look around and it begins to irk you the way they're both acting.

"we can't leave a pretty lady alone. lets go have some fun," the other man reaches towards you and tucks some hair behind your ear. you jerk backwards at the unwanted action, feeling disgusted.

“we’ll make sure you have fun, pretty." you don't answer but he persists, "let us buy you a drink, then.”

“no thanks, my boyfriend's got that.” you spit and divert your attention somewhere else with crossed arms, feeling a little suffocated from so much attention from two strangers alone. you can tell they’re getting a little annoyed but know that they won’t give up.

“why are you being so difficult? just come with us and relax,” one of them says with faint scowl. frustrated, you stare at them with fiery eyes, "i said no. you may fuck off, now."

you notice one of his hand reaching towards your face but it never touches you, a tall figure steps in front of you and blocks his way, the woody scent wafting into your nose.

seungcheol.

realising that it’s none other than seungcheol just from his scent, comforting warmth and built figure, you relax and let out the breath you were unintentionally holding.

“heard you were looking for this lovely lady’s boyfriend!” seungcheol jests, voice steady and dominating as he hands his and your drinks to vernon beside him. completely shielded by your boyfriends frame, your hand clutches onto his shirt at the waist and a finger from the other hand hooks into his belt loop as you watch him intimidate them effortlessly.

one of the men scoffs, “that’s you? move buddy, she’s no match for yo—”

seungcheol cuts him off, “and you are? that’s a good joke, maybe you should be a comedian!” he chuckles falsely and pats one of them on their shoulder before his smile vanishes, “don't ever think about laying that dirty hand on my girl or any other that clearly says no, for that matter. now, unless you don't want to keep being able to use that hand, you better fuck off like she said."

the guy sends seungcheol a dirty look and drags his friend down the hallway. seungcheol watches closely until the both of them are out of his sight.

"fucking creep," seungcheol mumbles.

"hey, you good?" vernon questions softly, earning a nod of you as a response.

a warm hand rests on your upper arm, you look up to see that it belongs to seungcheol who peers down at you with a worried look on his face. your name falls from his lips effortlessly, "are you okay? they didn't try anything, did they? I'm so sorry i took so long, i should not have left you alone like that."

"it's okay, they didn't do anything. i'm the one who sent you to get us drinks," you reassure him, "don't apologise, cheol."

"i'm still sorry, doll. i should have taken you with me," he pulls you closer, your chests meeting as he hugs you gently.

"i told you, it's okay," you kiss his jaw for extra reassurance before taking your drink from vernon, "thanks nonie."

vernon smiles and pats your head, "i got you. also, have you seen the others? i'll have to take their drunk asses home today."

seungcheol takes his own drink from vernon's hand, watching you nod and point to where the others were still dancing. wonwoo catches you pointing and taps both soonyoung and seokmin before tugged them along over to the three of you.

"hi!" soonyoung shouts with a wave. you wince at his volume and slap a hand to his mouth to which he speaks muffled words into.

seokmin, in his own drunken state, shushes soonyoung with a finger to his lips, "shh, soonie. you have to be quiet, okay?"

"see what i mean?"

WOOHOOOO!! you made it to the end! please don't hesitate to leave me feedback in my ask box or to like, comment/reblog! thank you for reading <3