#or small moments where he's revealing way more about how he thinks of the world and himself than he might realize | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missarchive · 4 months ago

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american jesus³ ☆

spencer reid

part one part two part three part four

summary; The delicate veil of secrecy is torn, unraveling a truth neither were prepared to face.

A fleeting mistake reveals their intertwined worlds, forcing them to confront the forbidden desire that binds them. Love and restraint wage a quiet war, their connection teetering on the edge of discovery, threatening to unravel everything they’ve built.

cw; angst, spencer yells at the reader, age gap, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, big big feelings = big big argument, lots and lots of yearning, student/teacher relationship (ezra and aria who?) no smut in this part (i know, disappointing), you'll have to wait for part 4 ;)

an; as always, thank you for taking the time to read my work, i hope you all enjoy. please consider leaving feedback in the form of a comment or an ask if you did enjoy, i always love hearing from you <3

“Can’t believe how lucky I am,” Spencer murmurs, his voice low and steady, almost like he’s thinking out loud. He’s not saying anything groundbreaking, just a simple truth, but you can feel the sincerity in every word.

You’re lying next to him, the warmth of his body pressing gently against yours, the world outside his apartment fading away. There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s just you and Spencer, the quiet hum of the city muted by the walls of the apartment. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, the touch both soothing and reassuring, like a silent promise.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, catching his gaze, and his eyes soften when they meet yours. “Lucky?” you ask, a small smile playing on your lips. “Why’s that?”

He shrugs, his expression relaxed, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place—something that makes your chest tighten in a good way. “I don’t know. You’re... everything. You just get me, you know? You always know when I’m overthinking or when I need a minute, and you’re there without making a big deal out of it.”

You chuckle softly, rolling onto your side to face him more fully. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of mind reader.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” he continues, his hand resting lightly on your hip now, fingers gently tracing along your skin. “You’re so... intuitive. So much more than I ever expected.”

You’re not sure why, but something about the way he says it makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world he could say that to. It feels real—genuine, even. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you say, your voice quieter now, the smile still lingering on your lips.

Spencer laughs softly, his fingers brushing over your hair. “I don’t know about that,” he says, though the affection in his voice is undeniable. “But I’m definitely glad you’re here. Glad it’s... us.”

“Me too,” you whisper back, settling a little closer to him, resting your head against his chest. It’s easy, this thing between you. Comfortable in a way that doesn’t need to be overanalysed or explained. You both know where you stand, and that’s enough.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really like being with you. More than I can say.”

You close your eyes, letting the simple words wash over you, content in the quiet of the moment. The world outside can wait. Here, with him, everything feels just right.

So as you crossed the campus the next morning, your bag tucked tightly against your side like a fragile secret, you couldn’t help but think of him. The air was crisp, carrying the faint tang of autumn, and the hum of the campus buzzed around you. Laughter echoed from a nearby bench, the scrape of skateboard wheels over concrete punctuating the morning stillness. It was a world in motion, but for you, each step felt heavier, each breath tighter.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, jolting you from your spiralling thoughts. A welcome distraction. You stepped into the shadow of a quiet corner in the quad, your back leaning against the cool brick of a building as you pulled it out. The message preview glowed softly on the screen, taunting you with its simplicity. Just a few words, but enough to make your stomach twist. You hesitated, the pad of your thumb hovering over the notification, before swiping it open.

@ thefourthdoctor; Big day today, right? How's it going so far?

You smiled to yourself. He had a way of grounding you, even when the chaos of life seemed overwhelming. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you typed back quickly.

@ laceandliterature; Surviving so far. One more class. Supposedly the professor is a genius or something.

@ thefourthdoctor; Genius professors are overrated. Bet you'll end up teaching them something.

You let out a soft laugh, earning a curious glance from the student beside you. You put your phone away as the chatter in the room began to quiet. The door at the front of the classroom opened, and a tall, slightly disheveled man stepped in.

"Good afternoon," he began, his voice smooth and steady, carrying just enough authority to quiet the murmur of the room. "My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, and I’ll be your professor for this semester."

A cold shiver ran through you, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, your brain refused to process them, to connect the dots. It was like a veil had dropped over the classroom, the world outside of him fading into a muffled blur. He was your Spencer—your secret, your late-night confidant, the person who had slowly crept into your thoughts, into your heart.

And now, as you looked up, there he was. Dr. Spencer Reid. The very thought of it made you freeze.

The world around you seemed to tilt, gravity losing its hold, as if the earth had somehow shifted beneath your feet. The air in the room thickened, and your pulse hammered in your ears. You could feel every eye in the room, but all you could focus on was him—on the way his gaze flickered over the crowd, on the moment he paused as if feeling your presence before his eyes locked onto yours.

It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be happening.

Recognition flashed in his eyes, swift and sharp like a lightning strike, followed by something darker—something that mirrored the panic rising in your chest. His steps faltered, a momentary loss of composure. For an agonizing second, he looked like he might trip over his own feet, his hand reaching instinctively to grip the edge of the podium, as though it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His lips parted, as if he meant to speak, but the words didn’t come.

The room around you blurred, every sound drowned out by the rushing roar of your heart, by the sudden weight of the truth crashing down on you. Dr. Spencer Reid, the man you had been talking to for weeks, the one you had come to trust with pieces of yourself you’d never shared with anyone, was standing in front of you—your professor. The line between you had just dissolved into nothing, and the implications hit you all at once.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were filled with something raw and unsettled—confusion, maybe even disbelief, a look that mirrored the one you felt inside. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You were so close to something, to something more, to a feeling you’d been fighting to define, but now… now it all felt tainted. The connection you had with him was something that had blossomed in the quiet, the secrecy, and now it felt so exposed, so fragile, hanging on the edge of something you couldn’t control.

You watched him struggle to regain his composure. His face was flushed, his brow furrowed with tension, but there was something else beneath it—something deep, something that had been there all along, though you hadn’t dared to name it. The reality of the situation hit you with crushing force: the late-night conversations, the casual affection, the way he made you feel seen and heard… It had all been real. But so was this.

He opened his mouth again, but it wasn’t to speak to you—not directly. He cleared his throat, pulling himself together with shaky breath, and in that instant, you knew that everything had changed. He was no longer the man you had been texting, the one who had shared things with you that felt impossible to tell anyone else. No. Now, he was your professor, the person whose authority you were supposed to respect, the person who had the power to affect your future in ways you hadn’t even considered.

You tried to steady your racing thoughts, but the reality of what was happening, what had just happened, pressed down on you. This wasn’t just an awkward surprise. This was a violation of all the boundaries you thought you could keep between your personal life and the rest of the world. You felt your chest tighten as the dread crept in.

You had been so close. So close to something real, something that had started to feel like it could actually be more than just a fleeting connection. But now? Now, you were staring into the abyss of what could only be a mess. His eyes kept flicking to you, but he didn’t speak directly to you again. Instead, he turned his attention back to the class, clearing his throat one more time before continuing, his voice more composed but still carrying an undercurrent of something strained.

"...I’ll be teaching cognitive development this semester," he said, his tone firm but not quite steady. "It’s a challenging course, but I’m confident you’ll all be able to keep up."

His words felt hollow, detached, as though he were going through the motions, but every syllable felt like an echo of everything you could no longer ignore.

You stayed rooted in your seat, a cold heaviness settling over you, your heart racing, your mind reeling. The world had just shifted, and you weren’t sure how to catch your breath.

"Uh," he stammered, his voice betraying a crack of unsteadiness. "As I said, I’m Dr. Reid. I, uh, specialise in behavioural psychology and philosophy. If you need anything, my office hours are listed in the syllabus, which you should have received by email."

He spoke too quickly, the words tumbling out like they might shield him from the reality of the moment. His hands gripped the podium tightly, and though his eyes swept over the room, you could tell he was avoiding looking directly at you. His composure was a fragile thing, threatening to crumble with every second that passed.

Your stomach churned as the implications of this impossible situation sank in. The air in the room felt stifling now, too warm, too heavy. You were hyperaware of him—of the way he stood just a little too rigidly, the faint flush creeping up his neck, the way his voice had wavered when he said anything.

This was the man who had been your confidant, the one who made you feel seen in a way no one else had. And now, he was standing in front of you, holding a position of authority that made every shared moment, every word exchanged, a dangerous secret.

He risked another fleeting glance in your direction, his expression unreadable. The air between you felt charged, like the space before a storm, filled with things left unsaid and too many emotions packed into too little time.

Your mind raced, a tangled mess of shock, dread, and something heartbreakingly close to longing. How could this possibly work? Could it even work at all?

Spencer turned back to his papers, his shoulders tight as he forced himself to continue. But the damage was done. The moment had shattered the fragile wall between your two worlds, and now you were left to navigate the wreckage.

And now, he was standing here, just feet away, your professor.

You could still feel his eyes on you, even when he wasn’t looking directly your way. You knew he felt it too—the electricity, the undeniable tension.

As the class dragged on, each word Spencer spoke felt like it was coming from miles away. You couldn’t focus, couldn’t absorb anything except the overwhelming weight of the truth. Dr. Spencer Reid. The realization kept replaying in your mind like a broken record, the echo of it rattling your thoughts until everything else faded into white noise. You tried to look at him objectively, tried to see the professor in front of you, but all you saw was the man who had become your secret, your late-night refuge. The man who, just hours ago, you had felt yourself slipping closer to, only to have the ground ripped out from under you.

When the lecture finally ended, the final bell a dull thud in your chest, you stayed in your seat for a beat too long, uncertain. The others filed out, chattering and laughing, their voices lost to you as if you were underwater. You debated, internally torn between confronting him—demanding answers—or simply running the other way and never looking back.

But before you could decide, before you could move, you caught his eye. Just for a second. It was brief, fleeting, but in that shared glance, you saw it—the acknowledgment, the silent recognition that you were both trapped in the same web of confusion and unspoken desire. His gaze held something more: a question, a plea, a silent call for understanding. You weren’t sure which one it was, but you felt it.

Neither of you said a word, but the air between you grew thick with it, with everything you weren’t saying. It hung there, heavy and suffocating, the invisible barrier that now separated you. You wanted to speak, to ask him what this meant, to demand the answers that both of you seemed too afraid to say aloud. But you didn’t. And neither did he.

This was going to complicate everything.

The days after that first class passed in a blur. The initial shock had dulled, but it had left behind an uneasy tension, a strange sort of tightness in the air between you and Spencer. Something had shifted between you both, but neither of you knew how to handle it, how to navigate the mess of emotions and risks.

In lectures, Spencer kept his gaze trained firmly ahead, rarely letting it wander to your corner of the room. When he did glance in your direction, it was quick, as if he feared even that brief moment of connection might undo him. The smooth flow of his lecture, once so natural, now had a stutter to it when you raised your hand, your voice, anything. The usual rhythm was broken, disrupted by the constant awareness of each other. Every word you spoke seemed to have the weight of a thousand unspoken things behind it, like every sentence was a landmine that could blow everything apart.

Outside of class, things were no easier. The messages between you and Spencer, once frequent and filled with ease, had become painfully measured. You had both learned to carefully choose your words, as if a wrong one could expose everything—the feelings you were hiding, the longing you couldn’t keep at bay, the dangers that now clung to every thought and touch. Every interaction felt like it was wrapped in a shroud of what ifs—what if someone found out? What if this all fell apart? What if it was too late?

But despite the careful distance, despite the impossible situation you found yourselves in, you couldn’t stay away. There was something magnetic between you, a pull that neither of you could resist. Each encounter, each brief exchange, only made it worse, only made you want him more.

And yet, you couldn’t have him. Not like this. Not with the risk of everything unraveling in an instant. But every part of you screamed that you couldn’t walk away, that you couldn’t let go of the thing that had begun to feel so real. And every part of him seemed to feel the same way.

There’s something almost sacred in the way he moves, the way he speaks, each word falling from his lips like it’s meant only for you, like you’re the only one who can truly hear it. You can't help but trace every line of his face, from the sharp curve of his jaw to the faint scrunch of his brow when he's lost in thought. His every gesture seems like poetry, something you could study for hours, even days.

You idolise him in a way that feels almost holy, a quiet reverence in the way you let your gaze linger on him, not just as your professor, but as someone untouchable. Every time his eyes sweep the room, you hold your breath, hoping, praying that maybe this time, they’ll land on you—just you. But they never do.

And still, you can’t stop. He’s your obsession, your quiet prayer whispered to the stars. You don’t just listen to him; you drink in every syllable, every inflection of his voice, as if his words are the only truth worth knowing. And in those moments, the world falls away, leaving only you and him—alone, even if you’re not.

It started in whispers, in moments so small they were almost imperceptible. A lingering glance after class that held for just a second too long. The way his fingers brushed yours when he handed back a graded paper, the touch fleeting but electric. You told yourself these gestures didn’t matter, that they were coincidences or figments of your imagination. But you knew better. You felt it in your chest, in the way your breath caught each time his eyes met yours and lingered.

Then one evening, as you packed up your notebook and pens after a lecture, his voice stopped you mid-motion.

“Y/N,” he said softly, careful not to draw the attention of the few students still milling about. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

You froze, your heart skipping, then nodding as you tried to keep your face neutral. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for onlookers, before he gestured toward the hallway.

The atmosphere in Spencer’s office was tense, a quiet unease pressing down on both of you. The faint hum of the overhead light mixed with the distant sounds of the campus outside, but neither did much to distract from the gravity of the conversation.

Spencer sat behind his desk, his fingers lightly drumming against the edge as he stared at the scattered papers in front of him. His gaze was unfocused, the weight of what he needed to say pulling at his normally composed demeanor. You leaned against the closed door, arms crossed, your posture guarded.

“This isn’t just risky,” he said after a long silence, his voice steady but low. He glanced up at you, his eyes serious. “If anyone finds out, it could ruin both of us.”

You straightened, arms dropping to your sides. “I know the risks, Spencer. But walking away isn’t an option for me, and I don’t think it is for you either.”

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a quiet sigh. “It’s not. But that means we have to be careful—really careful. We need rules. Boundaries. Something to protect us.”

You stepped closer to his desk, pulling a chair to sit across from him. “Okay,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Let’s figure it out. What’s non-negotiable?”

He hesitated, his fingers lacing together as he thought. “First, no public displays of affection. Not even subtle things. On campus, we have to act like nothing’s going on. No lingering looks, no casual touches—nothing.”

“Agreed,” you said, though the thought of keeping that distance stung. “We can’t give anyone a reason to suspect us.”

“And no communication about us through email or official channels,” he added. “If we need to talk, it has to be in person or through something secure.”

You nodded. “There are private apps we could use, encrypted ones. Only for emergencies, though. No casual texting.”

The practicality of it all settled over you both, the careful parameters of what you could and couldn’t do drawing a stark line around the relationship.

Spencer looked at you, his expression softer now, though no less serious. “If at any point this feels like too much—if it starts to put pressure on your life or your future—you have to tell me. I don’t want you to feel trapped in this.”

You met his gaze, holding it firmly. “That goes both ways. If you start to feel like this is putting your career in jeopardy, you need to tell me.”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Deal.”

The conversation felt clinical, like drawing up a contract, but it was necessary. The risks weren’t hypothetical—they were real, and you both knew what was at stake.

“Do you think this will work?” you asked after a pause, your voice quieter now.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk as he looked at you. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know I’m willing to try. For you.”

His honesty grounded you, cutting through the uncertainty. “Then we’ll make it work,” you said simply.

You found ways to navigate the tightrope of your relationship, though every step felt like it could be the one that sent you both tumbling into ruin.

You started meeting in places where no one would recognise you. A quiet café on the outskirts of town. A secluded bench in the park. The conversations were tentative at first, but the connection between you refused to fade.

One night, as the rain pattered softly against the windows of his apartment, you found yourself curled up on his couch, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You know this is insane, right,” he muttered, though his arm tightened around you.

“Probably,” you admitted, tilting your head to look up at him. “But doesn’t it feel worth it?”

His gaze lingered on yours, conflicted but warm. “It does,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “And that’s what scares me.”

The line between you and Spencer was razor-thin, a fragile, trembling thread neither of you dared to define. It felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, the dizzying height both thrilling and terrifying. You both knew the fall was inevitable, yet neither of you could step away. Instead, you lingered there, savouring the tension in those fleeting moments before gravity claimed you.

One late afternoon, as the sun dipped low and painted the campus in gold and shadow, you found yourself outside his office door. The brass plaque bearing his name gleamed faintly, a stark reminder of the boundaries you were about to cross. Your pulse quickened as you raised a hand and knocked softly, the sound barely louder than your breath.

“Come in,” he called, his voice muffled, distracted.

You slipped inside, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. Spencer sat hunched over his desk, papers sprawled across its surface like a chaotic map of his thoughts. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his hair fell untamed over his forehead, catching the fading light.

When he looked up and saw you, the tired lines of his face softened. His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, one that chased away some of the tension in his shoulders. “You’re here,” he said, his voice warmer now, but still tinged with a nervous edge. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I couldn’t stay away,” you admitted, stepping closer. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

He stood slowly, his movements hesitant as though torn between his delight at seeing you and the weight of the risks that lingered between you. “I’ve been thinking about you too,” he confessed, his hand moving to the back of his neck. “But this... it’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” you replied, your voice steady but gentle.

He shook his head with a quiet laugh, though it lacked humor. “You make it sound so simple.” His gaze dropped to the floor before returning to you, his expression earnest. “I’m glad you’re here—I always am—but... we have to be careful.”

“I know,” you said, your tone softer now. “But I needed to see you.”

He exhaled, taking a step toward you, the space between you narrowing. “This is dangerous,” he said, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed the firmness of his words. “For both of us. You understand that, right?”

“Yes,” you replied, your gaze locking with his. “I understand. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

The honesty of your words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed. Spencer’s breath hitched, and he hesitated for a moment before closing the remaining distance between you.

His hands came to rest gently on your waist, his touch light but steady, as if testing the limits of how close he could let himself be. “You make it impossible to think straight,” he murmured, a faint, self-deprecating smile on his lips.

“Then don’t think,” you whispered, your hand rising to cup his face. Your thumb brushed against the stubble along his jaw, the touch grounding. “Just let yourself feel, Spencer.”

His resolve faltered, and after a brief, wavering pause, he gave in. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent, as though trying to convey everything he couldn’t say aloud.

When you pulled back, your breaths mingled in the space between you, your foreheads resting together. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, reluctant to let you go.

“This is reckless,” he murmured, though his tone lacked any real conviction.

“Then tell me to leave,” you said softly, challenging him with your eyes. “If you really believe this is a mistake, say it, and I will.”

Spencer’s silence stretched, his gaze searching yours for an answer he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Then, instead of pushing you away, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss—slower this time, more deliberate.

In that moment, the rest of the world faded away. It didn’t matter that this was risky or complicated. All that mattered was the way his arms felt around you, and the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.

But even as you clung to him, the weight of reality loomed just beyond the door. You both knew the balance wouldn’t hold forever. Every stolen moment brought you closer to the edge, but neither of you was ready to let go. Not yet.

The weeks that followed were nothing short of surreal, a delicate haze of stolen moments and whispered confessions that felt like they existed outside of time. For a brief, golden sliver of your lives, the rest of the world melted away. The tension and danger that had once defined your relationship softened, and in its place grew something that felt achingly close to normal—a fleeting illusion of safety in a house of cards.

During the day, Spencer was every bit the professor. His lectures were sharp, his insights unmatched, and his demeanour coolly professional. He kept his distance, his gaze skimming over you with the same neutrality he granted every student. But in the evenings, when the classroom emptied and the cloak of twilight fell over the city, those carefully maintained facades slipped away.

You found solace in the quiet intimacy of those stolen hours, the shared secret between you and Spencer feeling like a delicate, shimmering bubble that shielded you from the outside world—if only for a little while. His apartment, modest and unassuming, became your sanctuary. Under the cover of darkness, you would arrive, greeted by the soft, golden glow of a desk lamp that bathed the room in warmth. The light cast long, flickering shadows across the walls, giving the space an almost dreamlike quality.

He’d sit at his desk, his slender fingers skimming over pages of handwritten notes or flipping through the well-worn pages of a book. Papers were scattered in controlled chaos before him, but his focus would inevitably drift to you. Meanwhile, you lounged on his worn, olive-green couch, the fabric soft from years of use, a book resting in your hands. The faint scent of old paper mingled with the subtle aroma of his cologne, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

One evening, the air felt particularly still, broken only by the soft scratch of his pen against paper and the occasional rustle of pages as you turned them. The tension between you wasn’t heavy—it was something quieter, more tender, like the gentle pull of a tide.

“I’m starting to think you’re only here to distract me,” he teased, his voice breaking the silence. His eyes flicked up from his notes, catching yours across the room. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his expression a perfect blend of amusement and affection.

You looked up from your book, tilting your head with a playful grin. “Maybe I am,” you replied, your tone light but laced with an unmistakable warmth. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

He leaned back in his chair, the smirk softening into something more vulnerable, more honest. “I don’t,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, carrying a sincerity that made your chest tighten. His gaze lingered on you, filled with a kind of unspoken gratitude, as though you were the one thing anchoring him amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

The moment stretched between you, delicate and unbroken, like the fragile stillness before a storm. In that space, with only the golden lamplight and the quiet hum of shared presence, the world outside faded away.

Some nights, you’d find yourselves in his small, modest kitchen, an intimate space that seemed to wrap around you like a cocoon. The countertops were cluttered with mismatched utensils and a few carefully chosen cookbooks, their spines cracked from frequent use. The narrow layout forced you close, your movements effortlessly weaving around each other, as though this was a dance you’d been perfecting for years.

You’d stand at the counter, chopping vegetables with a focus that was occasionally interrupted by his amused glances. Meanwhile, he’d hover over the stove, stirring something fragrant and humming softly under his breath. The warm, savoury scent of simmering herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the faint crackle of oil in the pan.

“Reid, you’re a genius, not a chef,” you teased, pausing to nudge him gently with your elbow. The touch was casual, yet the closeness sent a subtle thrill through you.

Without missing a beat, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “I think genius qualifies me for multitasking,” he retorted, his tone light and laced with dry humor.

The way he spoke, so earnest yet teasing, made you laugh—an easy, carefree sound that filled the small space. His smile widened at the sound, the fondness in his expression unmistakable. He turned back to the stove, stirring the pot with careful precision, as though the act of cooking together was as much about the process as the meal itself.

Occasionally, his arm would brush against yours, the fleeting contact as natural as it was electric. He’d reach over you to grab a spice jar, murmuring an absent “Excuse me,” though his hand would linger just a moment too long against yours.

He told you stories about the BAU, his voice animated as he recounted Morgan’s relentless pranks or Garcia’s exuberance. You’d laugh until tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, your sides aching from the joy of it.

“This feels too good to be true,” you murmured one night, leaning against the counter as you watched him stir a pot of pasta.

“It does,” he replied, glancing at you with a small, almost shy smile that made your chest tighten. “But I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to enjoy this.”

And you did. You savoured the moments as though they might slip through your fingers at any moment. But beneath the surface, there was always a quiet awareness—a faint, unspoken dread. You both knew this fragile peace couldn’t last forever. The bubble you lived in was too perfect, too delicate, and the outside world was never far away.

The nights were the best, the moments you cherished most. Wrapped in his arms, the world outside ceased to exist. Time itself seemed to slow down, fading into the background as everything else fell away. The warmth of his skin against yours was enough to make the chaos of the day disappear. He’d trace lazy patterns across your back or along your arms, the soft rhythm of his touch sending a sense of peace through you, grounding you in the present moment. His voice would hum softly, a low murmur that carried the oddest mix of comfort and distraction. He’d recite obscure facts with the same earnestness he applied to everything else, his words a strange lullaby that somehow felt both educational and intimate.

“Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?” he said one evening, his body pressed close to yours, limbs tangled together like the quietest dance. His voice was warm, the amusement in it making your pulse quicken slightly.

You laughed softly, feeling the slight vibration of his chest against your cheek. You buried your face against his skin, closing your eyes for a moment to soak in the sense of peace that only seemed to exist here, with him. “And here I thought you didn’t have one at all,” you teased, a playful smirk pulling at your lips.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, a soft, almost reverent touch that stilled your teasing. His expression shifted, becoming something quieter, something that caught you off guard. The warmth of his breath against your skin softened, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade.

“I do,” he whispered, the words a soft confession, barely audible but filled with weight. “And it’s yours.”

The words hung in the air, more potent than anything he had said before. The way he said them, so sure, so vulnerable, made your heart skip a beat. You wanted to respond, but the truth was—there was nothing to say. The vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his touch, said everything you needed to know.

The bubble burst on an otherwise ordinary evening. You’d fallen into an easy rhythm with Spencer, your shared secret giving you a sense of intimacy that felt almost unbreakable. But the thing about bubbles is that they’re fragile, no matter how much you want them to last.

It started with a message.

Spencer had been quiet all day, his usual goodnight text conspicuously absent the night before. When you finally worked up the courage to check your phone, there it was.

@ thefourthdoctor; We need to talk. Can you come over?

Your heart sank as you read the words. “We need to talk” was never a good sign.

The walk to his apartment felt longer than usual, your mind racing with all the possibilities of what he might say. By the time you arrived, your hands were trembling as you knocked on the door.

He opened it quickly, stepping aside to let you in without a word. His expression was tense, his usually warm eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely steady.

He closed the door, running a hand through his hair. “Something happened,” he said, his tone clipped.

The weight of his words settled heavily in your chest. “What do you mean? Did someone—”

“Someone knows,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “Or at least, someone suspects.”

You blinked, your stomach twisting. “How? Who?”

“I don’t know who,” he said, pacing the small living room. “But today, a coworker asked me why I’ve been acting distracted. He didn’t say anything outright, but I could tell he’s suspicious. And if he’s suspicious, it’s only a matter of time before someone else starts asking questions.”

You felt the blood drain from your face. “What did you say to him?”

“I brushed it off,” he said, his voice strained. “But this isn’t just about the team. If the school finds out…” He trailed off, his hands clenched into fists.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

“So, what are you saying?” you finally asked, your voice trembling.

He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m saying we need to stop this. Whatever this is, it’s not worth the risk.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Not worth the risk?” you repeated, your voice rising. “Is that all this is to you? A risk?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, but the damage was done.

“Then what did you mean, Spencer?” you demanded, your voice cracking. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re saying I’m not worth it.”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his silence louder than any words he could have said.

“Unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head. “I thought—” Your voice broke, and you had to swallow hard before continuing. “I thought this meant something to you.”

“It does,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You mean something to me. But this—us—it’s reckless. It’s dangerous. And if we keep going, we’re both going to get hurt.”

“So, what? You’re just giving up?” you asked, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re walking away because it’s easier than fighting for me?”

“I’m trying to protect you!” he snapped, his voice louder than you’d ever heard it.

“Protect me from what?” you shot back. “From caring about you? From wanting to be with you?”

“From yourself!” he yelled, his words cutting through the air like a knife. “You don’t think things through! You’re impulsive and immature, and you don’t understand the consequences of your actions!”

The room went still, his words hanging heavy between you.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your chest heaving as the weight of his words crushed you. “Is that what you really think of me?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His face softened for a split second, regret flashing in his eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

“Maybe we should’ve never started this,” he said quietly, the words like a final blow.

You felt something inside you shatter. Without another word, you turned and walked to the door, your movements mechanical as you grabbed your coat.

"I'll write you a check, Spencer," you spat, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "You can have every cent back, every single dollar you ever gave me. I don’t want it anymore—I don’t want any of it. Not the money, not the memories, not you.”

“Wait,” he called, his voice desperate now. But you didn’t stop.

As the door closed behind you, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you walked away.

This time, you didn’t look back.

Spencer stood frozen in the middle of his living room, staring at the door you had just slammed shut. The silence in the apartment was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

He felt hollow, like the argument had carved out a piece of him and taken it with you when you left. His chest ached, and his hands hung uselessly at his sides, still trembling from the heat of the fight.

Anger flickered in him—not at you, but at himself. The words he’d thrown at you echoed in his mind, sharp and bitter. Impulsive. Immature. Reckless. He had said them to push you away, to make you understand the gravity of the situation. But now they tasted like poison, regret seeping into every corner of his mind.

What have I done?

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. He sank onto the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His mind replayed the look on your face when he had yelled at you—the way your eyes had glistened with unshed tears, the tremble in your voice when you asked if that was what he really thought of you.

He didn’t mean it. Not any of it.

The truth was, you weren’t reckless. You weren’t immature. You were brave in a way he couldn’t comprehend, willing to take risks for what you wanted, for what you believed in. And Spencer admired you for it, even if he couldn’t admit it aloud.

But admiration wasn’t enough to protect you.

That was what haunted him the most. He had been terrified—not of you, but of what your relationship meant, of the potential fallout, the consequences that could ruin both your lives. He thought pushing you away was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. But now, sitting alone in the empty apartment, all he felt was loss.

Spencer’s throat tightened as he leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. He wanted to call you, to apologize, to take it all back. But the rational part of him held him back. You were right to leave, he thought bitterly. I’m no good for you.

Still, the thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your laugh or feeling the warmth of your touch, was unbearable.

The apartment felt colder, emptier, without you in it. Spencer closed his eyes, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he had said and everything he hadn’t.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt utterly, devastatingly alone.

You got me red, white, and blue

Pledging my allegiance to you

Tell me you believe in me too

next part

#missarchive #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #bau x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds

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pukefactory · 24 days ago

Text

•☽────✧˖°˖ NEW AGE FOUNTAIN ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Short Story Where You Propose To Salesperson ENA After Many Misadventures (A Direct Sequel To “Take Some Time”.)

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Short Story, SFW

★ Word Count: 1256

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

You don’t remember how the misadventures started. They just kept happening.

One moment you were sharing a soda that tasted like dramatic irony, and the next you were dangling from a tree grown out of a logic puzzle, ENA yelling at the leaves like they were government employees.

“It’s a disgrace! A travesty! You call yourselves deciduous? You didn’t even try to fall artistically!”

You dangled and laughed. You laughed so much more now.

It had been—well, “some time.” Time here didn’t tick. It juggled. It forgot itself. Sometimes you lived through entire weeks in a single rainstorm, other times a nap took seven Tuesdays. But you and ENA had been through it all.

The Mime Ordeal. The Great Emotion Raffle. The time you were both accidentally declared royalty and then promptly exiled for treason against a sentient bread loaf named Commander Crumbsworth. (He still sends hate-mail. ENA keeps the letters in a shoebox labeled “fan interactions.”)

And somewhere in the middle of all that, she started holding your hand on purpose.

It wasn’t always romantic. It was ENA.

Sometimes her mitten hand would clasp yours as you stepped through whispering alleyways. Sometimes her clawed one would tug you behind her in a flash sale for “half-priced dreams (slightly used).” Sometimes she just grabbed your sleeve and said, “This way! To the melancholic swamp of maybe-truths!”

But there were… other moments. Quieter ones.

The way her head tilted when you didn’t laugh at a joke. How her red side brightened when you made a clever pun. How she stood still when your voice wavered, when you needed the ground to be soft again, when the sky got too loud.

And then there was the Department of Melancholy. You didn’t talk about it much. Not even to her. But the memory lived like breath in your ribs. The way her voice gentled. The way she looked at you. The moment when the chaotic, fragmented circus of her reality finally—finally—slowed down.

“You feel like something,” she had said.

That had been the moment. The pivot when you realized she was more than a friend, more than a companion, more than the rickety roller coaster you’d clung to out of necessity.

She was your constant. She was your home. Which brought you here.

Standing on a cliff made of expired to-do lists, clutching something small and round in your hand, while ENA stood just ahead, yelling at the ocean for “being a wet liar.”

You’d found the ring by accident. Well, ENA found it. In a vending machine that dispensed “answers to questions you didn’t ask.”

She’d turned to you, holding up the glinting thing with a squint. “Do you think this is edible?”

You’d taken it, stared at it too long, and said, “No. I think it’s perfect.”

That was three adventures ago. Now, it burned a soft hole in your pocket.

You weren’t sure what tradition meant in a place like this. You weren’t even sure what marriage would look like in ENA’s world. A parade of floating vowels? A dance battle against your collective pasts?

But you knew what you felt. And you knew ENA felt something too.

Right now, her back was to you, shoulders square in that impossible way of hers, like she’d drawn herself in with charcoal and defied gravity just to make a point.

“The ocean,” she was saying, “refuses to acknowledge its unpaid debts! Look at it! Smug and splashy! Thinking we don’t remember the Bubble Recession of Thursday!”

You cleared your throat. She spun.

“OH! It’s you! My favorite gravity-afflicted mammal.”

You smiled, nervous. “Hey.”

She squinted at you. “You look like you’re about to reveal a deep truth or grow an extra limb.”

“Just the truth,” you said.

She leaned forward eagerly, Salesperson eye bright. “Oooh! Truth first, limb second. Always best that way.”

You stepped closer, heart pounding in its own offbeat language. “Remember the Department of Melancholy?”

Her face changed instantly. Not shut-down. Not distant. Just—shifted.

You saw the weight behind the smile. The tension of memory. Her Salesperson side softened; her Meanie side blinked slowly.

“Of course I do,” she said. “That was where you became real to me.”

You exhaled. “Yeah. That’s where I realized… you already were.”

A beat. A quiet one. A rare, fragile beat that fluttered between you like a candle flame.

“ENA,” you said, voice steadier than expected. “We’ve been through a lot. Riddles with teeth. Dances with consequences. The mailbox that screamed at us in French. All of it.”

“Oh, emotionally traumatizing,” she whispered, eyes wide.

You laughed.

“I never thought I’d stay here. Not for long. I thought I was broken. Like I was just—passing through. But you…”

You took her hand. She didn’t pull away.

“You made this place livable. You made me livable.”

For once, she didn’t joke. Didn’t spin or skip or shout. She just looked at you. Looked at you like she had cataloged your every twitch and decided each one was worthy of worship.

And then she whispered: “Are you proposing, or about to pass out?”

You smiled. Then got down on one knee. She gasped. Loudly. The red side squealed. The pale side shrieked. Somewhere, a bird exploded in surprise.

“OH MY—YOU’RE DOING THE KNEE THING! THE HUMAN KNEE THING! WITH THE LITTLE ROUND OBJECT OF COMMITMENT!”

“Yes,” you said softly. “ENA, will you marry me?”

Silence. Complete. Even the sea paused. Even the clouds held their breath.

ENA blinked. Once. Twice. Then her head rotated a full 180 degrees before snapping back.

“YOU ABSOLUTE DUNCE OF BEAUTY.”

You blinked. “Uh—?”

“OF COURSE I WILL! WHAT DO YOU THINK I’VE BEEN DOING ALL THIS TIME? THINKING YOU WERE JUST A PLOT DEVICE? A SIDE CHARACTER?? NO! NO! YOU—YOU—YOU emotional nucleus! You beautiful mistake of cosmic proportions!”

You were yanked upward. Suddenly she was spinning you, laughing and crying and glitching between colors like a firework that didn’t know how to stop celebrating.

“YES! YESYESYESYES! I will marry you! I will calendar you! I will contractually bind myself to the concept of your soul!”

She kissed you. It was like being high-fived by the stars and then hugged by your childhood blanket. It was messy. It was too much. It was perfect. When she pulled back, both her voices spoke together.

“I’ve always felt like a compilation error,” she said. “But you make the crash worthwhile.”

Your chest felt warm. Whole. Like gravity made sense again, just for a moment.

“I love you, ENA.”

She blushed—her whole face blushed, glitching pink and green and blue.

“I love you too, you chaotic miracle.”

And then—

“WAIT! WE NEED TO PLAN A CEREMONY! WITH FLOATING GUESTS! AND INVISIBLE CAKE!”

You grinned. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

She stared at you. Then grinned wide.

“No promises.”

You didn’t need them. Because she had already given you everything. Your home.

Later (approx. three adventures and one existential crisis after the proposal):

“Do you think we need rings for each personality?” ENA asked, lounging upside-down on the ceiling.

“Do you have more personalities I haven’t met?”

“Oh no, just the two. But Meanie ENA wants one made of titanium. Salesperson ENA wants one made of metaphors.”

You snorted. “Of course.”

You looked at her. Your ENA. Striped socks, tangled hair, grin like a glitch in GØD’s plan. And you knew—really knew—that wherever the journey led, whatever nonsense unfolded next…You’d be okay because your chaos? Your charming catastrophe? She said yes.

And that made all the difference.

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bianquitasunderworld · 1 year ago

Note

could you write something where dave is obsessed with readers boobs please?

18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: 18+ English is not my first language! Smut, Fingering, Teasing, Switch Dave, Switch Reader/Dom Reader, Dave begs, Mommy kink, Female Penetration. (I think that’s it)

Parings: Dave Lizewski x Reader

A/N: This man is such a LOSER and I love that. I got carried away with this one. I don’t proofread.

Dave’s obsession with boobs, especially your own is truly…questionable. We all know he’s got a thing for boobs I mean we all saw that one scene!

Dave struggles to voice his feelings, often too embarrassed to even speak about such things. He’s frequently averting his gaze, but his eyes involuntarily gravitate towards your chest. The ogling always intensifies when you choose to wear tank tops or choose to forgo a bra, leaving him subtly captivated.

On a particularly hot summer day, Dave had invited you to his home due to your apartment’s lack of electricity and air conditioning. You gladly accepted his offer immediately and chose to wear the most revealing outfit in your wardrobe to keep the heat from affecting you. The outfit was perfect; poor Dave couldn’t look away. He was hypnotized by the way your boobs looked, and his gaze seemed glued to them. Despite his efforts, he found himself entranced, unable to divert his attention.

You weren’t completely oblivious to your boyfriend’s wandering eyes. Of course you didn’t mind but you couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts were playing inside his head. Filthy thoughts consumed your mind, the way Dave’s tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth and the way he licked his lips only made you more curious as to what scenarios he could possibly be playing out in his mind.

You wondered if he was thinking about sucking your tits as you ride him, or if he was thinking of you kneeling in front of him with his dick between your tits as he coats them with his come. You couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together in your seat as you bit your bottom lip, desperately trying to find some relief or pleasure. The thought alone is simply enough for you to get off on.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Dave’s hand and hear his soft voice. “W-what are ya thinking about?” He stutters, his voice laced with nervousness.

He watches and notices how you become fidgety when his hands caress your thigh. A sense of warmth comes over you at his soft touch. His featherlike touch further ignites the small flame that has been burning within you since you noticed his gaze.

your voice is soft as you trip over your words. “N-nothing. T-this is just a good movie, don’t you agree?” Your head nods towards Dave’s tv. Truthfully you couldn’t care less about whatever movie was on at the moment, and neither did Dave, all he could focus on was how thin your blouse was and how he could just barely see the outline of your boobs.

Dave nods even though he isn’t paying any attention to whatever the fuck was playing either, how could he when the most beautiful girl in the world was right in front of him with her boobs on full display! His heart was racing as he tries to calm down his arousal.

He can’t take it anymore, he decides to make a bold decision and just acts before thinking. If all failed he could just die of embarrassment and curl up into fetal position, right?

Dave slowly moves his soft hands up your torso tracing small random patterns against your skin. You shiver as you feel his cold hands make their way up and under your blouse.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't help myself..." He leans in closer, his breath tickling your neck as his fingers brush against your bare skin. His heart is pounding in his chest as he struggles with his desire for you.

“Davie-“ your voice is soft. Dave takes it as a good sign when you don’t immediately stop him and curse him out for being a pervert. You of course know what Dave wants and exactly what he’s up to, he plays this game far too often. Pretends to be shy, innocent, and soft then next thing you know you’re both naked as he’s deep inside you while his mouth is wrapped around your boob or his hand is down your shorts while he suck on your boob, regardless of what happens mark my words, some part of him will be touching your chest.

"I'm-I’m sorry, I can't help myself," Dave confesses, his lips moving against your neck, his hands gently squeezing your soft breasts through your thin blouse. "You're so irresistible." His voice is soft and whiny.

His hand trails across your cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your skin. “Y-you’re going to love it. I promise, alright?”

His hands slide down to unbutton your blouse, revealing your bare skin underneath. He leans in to lay a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your collarbone as his fingers skim across your chest.

You nod hesitantly as his hands focus on unbuttoning your blouse, once it’s finally off and your breasts are revealed to him, he can’t help but let out a small whimper. Dave can’t help it, when he sees your bare chest he swears he’s in heaven.

Dave's hands tremble as they slide up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. He leans in closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin. "They're perfect," he murmurs, his voice barely audible even to himself.

You hesitate to speak, stuttering at every word that leaves your lips. “T-Thank yo-u Davie.” The heat between your thighs is becoming so unbearable.

“I w-wanna taste you mommy” Dave murmurs, his voice rough with need. His hands slip inside your panties, his fingers finding the dampness between your legs. Dave’s mouth wraps around your nipple, flicking at it and sucking at it as his hands explore your panties, feeling how wet you’ve become just for him, because of him.

The only sounds that can be heard throughout Dave’s household is the sound of your moans and whimpers as his hand plays with your wet pussy. You buck your hips agaisnt his hand as his fingers rub your clit. "Dave... I'm close," you gasp out, your body arching into his touch. "Don't stop oh my god baby!" The feel of his fingers inside you, combined with his mouth on your breast, sends waves of pleasure coursing through your entire being.

You pant his name, your body trembling with need. The sensations are overwhelming, but in the best way imaginable as his fingers continue to tease you.

F-fuck, yeah, baby," Dave gasps out, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to feel you come around my fingers, come on pretty girl. Let me feel you come around my hand." His fingers move faster, curling deeper inside you as he searches for that one perfect spot to send you over the edge.

Your eyes shut tight and your nails dig into his shoulder as you feel your climax approaching, you cry out his name and beg for him to let you come.

“Fuck, yes," Dave moans, his hips bucking against your leg as he whispers in your ear."Let go, baby. Let me see you come apart for me."

"Come for me, baby. Let go," Dave urges in a husky whimper. "I want to feel you baby.." His fingers curl and stretch, finding just the right spot, the perfect rhythm.

Dave’s eyes watch your every move and reaction as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, his eyes light up as he hears you moan and watches you buck your hips uncontrollably agaisnt his hand. Broken cry’s of pleasure leave your mouth as you come apart around his fingers.

Dave watches you fall apart under his touch. He groans, his hips bucking up against your side , seeking more contact as he feels you shatter around his fingers. “Such a good girl, so fucking tight.” he breathes, his voice thick with lust and pride.

A small gasp leaves your lips as you feel empty when he pulls his fingers from your pussy and brings them to his mouth. You watch and bite your lip as with a slow, deliberate motion, he tastes you, savoring your sweetness.

“You taste amazing," Dave murmurs, his eyes locked on yours."Mmm," Dave hums, his eyes closing in pleasure as he tastes you. "You're so fucking addictive," he whispers, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

Feeling your body pressing against his, Dave groans into the kiss, his cock twitching against the rough fabric of his jeans. His cock is begging for a release. He breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he looks into your eyes. "You're killing me," he mutters, his voice rough with lust.

Your eyes slowly wander down to the bulge in his jeans, you lick your lips at the sight admiring the imprint of his cock against his jeans. “Is this all for me Davie? You’re this worked up over watching me come and playing my tits?” Your words are filthy and condescending, something Dave catches on to quickly.

“Y-you turned me on so much just by letting me play with your pretty pussy.” He whimpers "I need you right now." He tugs on your hand gently, guiding it to his erection. “I want to feel you wrapped around me so bad." Dave’s voice comes out as a whimper as he begs for you. He’s become desperate and grinds against your palm.

“Please, baby." He whines, his hips undulating against your hand. "I need you so fucking bad." His eyes bore into yours, full of desire and need.

Your eyes admire him as he begs desperately for you, your body is begging for him but the desire to make him beg for your body overpowered your need to please him, to have him inside of you.

Whimpering, Dave presses his hips into your hand. "Please, mommy, please. I need to be inside you.." His voice is raw with need and desire. He leans in, pressing his lips against your neck.

Your resolve slowly fades and you feel yourself giving into him. His desire and desperation turns you on more than anything. Watching him fall apart simply because he needs to be inside you is the most amazing thing you’ve ever experienced.

You give him a small nod and watch as he quickly moves to unzip and take off his pants and quickly drops his boxers to floor, kicking both items of clothing off and moving back to sit near you looking at you intently. You slowly bring your palm to his cock and wrap your hand around it. Admiring his manhood. His cock twitches in anticipation, leaking pre-cum onto your hand.

Your eyes sparkle in admiration as you watch Dave’s face contor into one of pleasure. A deep moan escapes from his throat as he jerks his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into your hand.

“What do you need baby?” You tease him, watching closely as his glasses fall askew. “I need you to take me inside that tight little pussy of yours, mommy." Dave's voice is ragged.

You tsk at him in disapproval. “Oh such nasty words coming from such a pretty boy, what a shame.”

His cock jerks in your hand, a testament to his arousal. Your hand slows around him, teasing him. “I'm sorry, mommy," Dave pants, his hips jerking involuntarily. "I can't help it. I need you." His cock throbs in your hand

“Oh that’s much better, good boy.” You praise.

“T-Thank you mommy.” As if responding to your approval, Dave's cock twitches again, this time more forcefully. He arches his back, offering you better access to his sensitive tip. "Please, mommy," he whispers. "I need you to ride me.."

You coo at him and slowly remove your hand that’s wrapped around his shaft. “I know baby, you’re just so pretty when you beg. Mommy’s gonna give you what you want baby”

Dave's breath hitches when you remove your hand from his cock. His head rolls back in anticipation, his eyes closed tightly. "Oh, god..mommy," he moans, his voice shaky with desire.

His eyes flutter open, he watches you through the lenses of his glasses. “Thank you, mommy," Dave breathes out, his body trembling with anticipation. As you pull back, he reaches out, tracing the curve of your breast with his fingers. "You're so beautiful."

His words send a shiver throughout your body, his compliment bring out a small smile from you.

“Thank you Davie” You kiss his lips softly then pull away as you straddle his hips. Your entrance hovering right over his thick length, his hands slowly make their way to hold your hips.

Dave watches as you position yourself above him, his heart racing in anticipation. "Mommy," he moans, his hips pushing up against you. His cockhead brushes against your entrance.

His cock twitches against your sensitive folds, begging for entrance. "Please, mommy." You slowly lover yourself down on him, your mouth falls open as you gasp and your eyes shut as you feel his large cock slowly stretch you open around him. “Oh Davie-“ You steady yourself against him.

A soft moan escapes Dave as you lower yourself onto him, feeling you stretch around him. He grips your hips tightly, guiding you slowly down his length. "Oh fuck, mommy," he whispers.

“You’re so big Davie” You cry out as you lower yourself down on him, feeling him inside you. Dave pants, his voice thick with lust and need. He thrusts upwards gently, meeting your downward motion, their hips slapping together in a rhythmic dance of desire.

his cock throbs inside you. His hands slide up to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples, his hands hold your breasts tenderly. His hips buck slightly, pushing further into the tight embrace of your warmth. You whimper when he’s fully inside you, his throbbing cock fills your body and your brain feels empty, your only thought is him and how good he’s making you feel. You slowly grind your hips down agaisnt his own.

“Fuck, yes," Dave groans, feeling you move against him. His own hips buck up, meeting your grind with enthusiasm. He bites his lower lip, feeling overwhelmed by the sensation of being inside you. "So fucking tight," he pants.

You groan as you feel him thrust up into your pussy, the sounds of skin slapping filling the room. “You feel so good baby-Oh fuck!” Every sound and noise that is being made is borderline filthy, every moan and whimper sounds almost pornographic.

Dave cries out, his hips bucking wildly as he takes you with force. His cock pistons in and out of you, driving you both towards the brink of ecstasy. Your tits bounce at his hard thrust, your moans and cries come out broken, due to the overwhelming sense of pleasure that’s he’s giving to you.

Daves hands roamover your body again, finding your nipples. He pinches and rolls them between his fingers, using them to his advantage as he continues to fuck you senseless. Dave’s hands wander back down towards your hips, his hands wander lower and grope your ass. he leans forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Dave’s glasses are foggy and crooked, barely on the tip of his nose.

You whimper and reach your hand towards his face gently taking them off and tossing them to the side of the couch. His tongue circles around your nipple, tugging gently at the sensitive flesh, his face somehow burrowing further against your tit. Feeling the warmth of your ass against his hands, the taste of your nipple in his mouth, and the tightness surrounding his cock, Dave can't hold back any longer. His hips buck up fiercely.

You moan and your eyes roll back as you feel your climax approaching “I’m gonna fucking come!” You groan. “Come for me baby, fuck-Oh Dave-“

Dave’s groans are muffled as he sucks on your tit, his feels his own orgasm taking over. He thrusts up into you, his cock pulsing as he releases his seed deep inside you. His hips buck wildly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. His hip shudder as he thrust up into you, emptying himself inside you. He pulls his mouth off and away from your tit and just rests his head against your chest.

As the wave of pleasure subsides, leaving both of you panting heavily, Dave remains connected to you, his cock still buried deep inside. He kisses your chest tenderly, his ear still pressed against your racing heartbeat.

#dave lizewski smut #dave lizewski x reader #aaron taylor johnson smut #kick ass fanfic #kick ass x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader #atj #kick ass #dave lizewski x you #dave lizewski fic #dave lizewski fanfic #dave lizewski imagine #dave

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tbaluver · 3 months ago

Text

Valentine's Day- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader summary: what they get you for valentine's day and what their date with you would be! tags: fluff fluff + very corny and cheesy a/n: hihi my lovelies! so fun fact i actually really fawking hate this holiday but i wanted to do something for my readers so here are my flowers for you all this holiday (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ i wrote this after the banner trailer came out bc i lowkey wanted something romantic ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) and special thanks you to my beta readers, @ilovemitsuya and @deusfoundry mwah ! enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Linkon City had been preparing for Valentine’s day. It was everywhere, from grocery stores, cafes, malls, you couldn’t escape it. He noticed the way you’d eye some of the products so he asked you about it. Before he would always brush off a lot of holidays but the moment you mentioned it was a day where couples celebrate it together made him think of what he could do for you.

Be Mine? He doesn’t really ask you because he didn’t know he had too. Instead, he calls you to let you know he was at your door. Once you opened it, you couldn’t see his face but two large bouquets blocking his view and a soft voice behind the bouquet saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

His Gift: ‘How can i get her a planet?’ Unfortunately he’d have to opt for something smaller for now. He originally planned to give you a bouquet of your favorite flowers until he saw an idea online where you can create a bouquet of snacks and plushies. So, he gets you the best of both worlds. He carefully chooses your favorite flowers, picking plushies of your favorite characters and animals and makes sure to include all your favorite snacks too. He gently wraps the bouquet of flowers before working on the second bouquet, carefully placing each one to look presentable.

The Date: He’d take you to a quiet hilltop for a nightly picnic, it was one of the perfect spots to watch the stars and the moon. As you both settle down on the blanket, he'll let you enjoy your meal while Xavier sets up the telescope, carefully adjusting it to show you the planet he’d told you about, shifting it slightly to reveal a bright shiny star, the smaller gift he’d decided to get instead. He’d explain to you that he named that star for you, one out of millions that he plans to name more of.

Zayne:

Zayne has never asked anyone to be his Valentines, let alone spend the day with anyone. But ever since you two got together, he’s wanted to make sure he spends at least every holiday with someone he loves, you.

Be Mine? Since he has to leave early for work, Zayne would slip out of bed, careful not to wake you. He’d quietly leave a small, fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers that would be accompanied by a note, “For my love, always.” Later during his break, he makes sure to call you to make sure you don’t feel completely alone on the holidays and also because he misses you and how eager he is to come home to you.

His Gift: Zayne would carefully arrange the items he’d gotten you in a little cute box/ basket, filling it with your favorite things. There would be a TON of self care items. A blanket and comfy slippers so you won’t be cold whenever he’s not around. Matching mugs to drink together from morning to night. Bath bombs, candles, face masks and lotion to pamper you after a long day. Along with that, he’d tuck in your favorite snacks or sweets and beside the basket would a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers. He’d also remember that it was tradition to write your lover a letter on the holiday, so he’d make sure to write you a heartfelt letter of his love and appreciation for you.

The Date: This depends if you two were introverted that day or if he was feeling more introverted than you. If neither of you two weren’t, then he’d reserve a spot for you both to a classy restaurant, checking beforehand the reviews and if the menu has foods that you’d love. However if you two want a cozy night in, then you’d have a date at home. You’d cook together, some recipes taking longer so you guys bake in the meantime. Zayne would insist on adding an alarming amount of sugar on his, so you’d have to make separate pans. Once you both were full with your meal and if you weren’t tired yet, he’d invite you out for a nice scenic walk. He’d hold your hand the entire time, slipping them both into his pocket to keep yours warm.

Rafayel:

Rafayel doesn’t really get why humans need a specific day to celebrate their love and devotion to their partner when it should be something they do every day. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to skip out on spending this holiday with you, no holiday would ever make him love you any more or less than he already does.

Be Mine? He led you to a quiet and private spot on the beach, away from anyone. He would have “Be mine?” spelled out on the sand, decorated with pretty seashells to make the question pop more. His gaze is fixed on you as he waits for a response- even though you’ve been together for so long.

His Gift: A couple of Rafayel’s gifts were handmade, they were made way before the holiday came up and it was the perfect day to give it to you. He’d give you beautifully crafted heartfelt letters that spoke about how much he adored and cherished each second you spent together. Another one of his gifts would be a sketchbook, each page filled with detailed drawings, paintings, and even sketches that related to you. Each page would have little notes about how he needs to perfect your smile or how your eyes light up whenever you were happy. His last gift for you would be matching jewelry that is related to the holiday.

The Date: Rafayel would take you on a small boat ride to a hidden beach that’s only accessible by boat. When you both get there, there would be a picnic waiting for you and a small bonfire nearby. Your favorite foods, snacks, and a bottle of wine are laid out between you. He’d have sketchbooks ready for you both, taking turns drawing each other. He’d try to be nice when you’d draw him a little unique. Between sketches, he’d pull out his camera, capturing little candid moments of you. A smile tugs at his lips when he’d capture how you’d smile and laugh as you draw another unique sketch before you show him or the way the fire gives you such a warm and soft glow.

Sylus:

Sylus had been quiet about Valentine’s Day, the holiday slowly catching up. It was unlike him since you two planned a lot of things together but what you didn’t know was that he’d been playing a surprise, secretly ordering your gifts and decoration online before the day came.

Be Mine? You jolted awake by a loud tap by your window, relentless caws by Mephisto when he sees you up. Groggily you drag yourself out of bed, flinging open to see Mephisto wearing a red bow tie but before you could process what was happening, he flew away, leaving you blinking in confusion. Your eyes shifted downward, and there was Sylus leaning against his motorcycle, a playful smile tugging at his lips while he held a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of your presents on the other hand.

His Gift: A small getaway to another city to somewhere you've planned on visiting. His plan would be spending the evening over a romantic dinner with a new and beautiful view. You two would stay there for a few nights or maybe even more, he doesn't mind extending the trip there, giving you plenty of time to explore the places you've wanted to experience together. When you unwrap the present in his hand, you’d find the dress you had your eye on a week ago and pieces of jewelry that perfectly complemented both you and your dress.

The Date: Once you two step off his private plane, he’d guide you to the car waiting to take you to an exclusive restaurant. He would reserve a private dining area so you two can enjoy each other’s company without interruption. The view from your seat alone was beautiful but Sylus wasn’t looking at the scenery, his eyes were always focused on you. Once you two were done with dinner, he’d take you out on a walk that was much closer to the view you two had during the dinner. He’d guide you to a reserved garden, one that he arranged weeks before. Your favorite flowers were arranged in clusters to make the garden pop out more. Neatly trimmed bushes lined the pathway and a couple of them were shaped into pairs of animals that symbolized you both, nestled together and some were heart shaped to represent the holiday.

Caleb:

Caleb hasn’t really spent Valentine’s Day with you properly, even when you were kids. Instead, he spent the entire time pushing away anyone who tried to give you anything or throwing out confession letters, flowers, chocolates, and candies from anyone who offered them to you. It was like that every year. By the time he could’ve asked you to be his Valentine’s, it was already too late. One of the memories he has of that night is giving you chocolates he had originally planned to give you, pretending they were pity gifts, as if no guy tried to give you anything. But now you two are grown and he has you all to himself, letting him celebrate this holiday with you properly.

Be Mine? You woke up to the delicious smell of breakfast calling your name and found Caleb in the kitchen, his back to you as he finished preparing his meal. On the counter was your favorite breakfast and beside it was a bouquet of flowers and a note written 'Be Mine?' He pretends he didn’t hear your footsteps padding behind him, a smile curling on his lips when he feels your arms wrap around him. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

His Gift: Even though he’d gotten you your favorite flowers in the morning, Caleb would surprise you with a box of Lego flowers so you’d have forever flowers to display on your desk or nightstand. He’ll also probably get you something silly like a magnetic necklace/ bracelet that you could wear or even magnetic socks so whenever you two were almost skin and skin, you two can be even more connected. And of course, he’d make his custom made love coupons that don’t expire for a hundred years.

The Date: He wants to spend the holiday, just like any other day, alone with you. If you were a picky eater, he’d make sure to cook all your favorite foods but if you weren’t, he’d look up some new recipes that have ingredients he knows you’d love. He’d also try to shape anything he can with hearts or maybe even a rose for the holiday. Eventually you two can build the lego(s) he’d gotten you and play a few board games for couples, letting you win most of them just so he can see your smile and hear your laugh.

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sungbites · 1 month ago

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OH SION AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

pairing : bf!sion x gf!reader genre : fluff, est. relationship warnings : so cute, self insert, crying, kissing, sion da best ever synopsis : headcannons that bf!sion would do wc : 2k a/n : wish debut w my fav ever :D also i got a wee bit carried away #sozz

constant cuteness aggression. sion was fond of so many of your traits, but his favorite was the fact you looked so cute all the time. there would be times where the two of you could be sitting next to each other, watching a movie or something of the sort and sion just completely suffocates you with hugs and kisses because of how adorable you look to him. he thinks you’re the cutest thing in the whole world and because of that he wants to appreciate you all the time.

both you and sion laid on the couch, cuddling. it had been a long day of work for both of you and you wanted the moment to just destress in each other's presence. your head was on sion’s chest as he stroked your hair softly. you picked your head up to look at him, pouting softly. sion smiled, his ears turning a soft shade of pink. “what?” you mumbled and he smiled even more, pulling you even close to him as he smothered your face in kisses making you giggle aloud.

“babe- stop it!” you cried out, trying to hold back your giggles but failing miserably. sion kissed the tip of your nose and leaned back, smiling even more. “my baby is just so cute i couldn’t help it” he mumbled, making your cheeks turn pink. you pushed your palm on his chest, making him smile and lean into you more.

skinship 25/8. one thing about sion is that he was clingy, not in an overbearing way but in a way that made you want to cling to him even more than he did you. if sion is with you, some part of him needs to be holding you to ground him. whether that be your hand or your waist, somehow his touch is always clouding your senses. he always wants to be with you, holding or hugging you. he wants to be right by your side all the time, attached by the hip.

little things. sion was very attentive so randomly when he would notice a shift in your mood, good or bad, he would do something for you. he was doing things for you all the time it seemed but there were little things that added up to bigger things for you. for instance, he could notice your mood is off the entire week and because of that he’ll surprise you with a sweet treat after work or a random dinner date. he knows how much these small things mean to you so whenever he has the chance he’ll do them, even if he doesn’t have the time.

‘open the door’ a text from sion popped up on your phone as you furrowed your brows, walking over to your apartment front door. you opened it, revealing your boyfriend standing there with a bouquet of flowers. he smiled, extending the bouquet out for you to hold. you accepted it, the smell of tulips taking over your senses. “what is this for?” you said, looking up to sion, shocked. he shrugged, “you seemed down this week so i thought the flowers could brighten your mood” he smiled, scratching his neck once more. there his ears turned red once more. you looked at the tulips then him, smiling. “thank you baby” you mumbled, making him smile more. “anything for you” he mumbled back, ears still red as ever.

arguments are almost non existent. like every healthy couple, you and sion disagreed. it wasn’t often but when it did happen the arguments never went anywhere. sion had his fair share of being immature but when it came to you, he was the most level headed person ever. naturally the two of you disagree but when you did he would just talk it out with you and eventually whoever was in the wrong just apologizes to the other. he could never bring himself to be actually mad at you or raise his voice, he thinks it’s wrong to talk to you like that so he never will.

a certain tone reserved for you. sions voice was sweet with everyone, he was a friendly warm person. yet when he spoke to you, that voice was even sweeter than you could ever imagine. he smiles at every word you say and even while he speaks he’s smiling all the time around you, maybe that’s why his voice changes. at first when you started seeing each other you never noticed this tone change but when you started hanging out with him in group settings the sweet voice was much clearer. it made you feel special and loved that something about him was all for you.

“i told you, the toast was terrible!” sion said, laughing loudly with his friends. you watched them engage in conversation about anything under the sun. you joined sion often at little dinners or lunches with him and his friends, they were all sweet to you so at some point you became more comfortable hanging out with them. you smiled as sion laughed very loudly at yet another one of rikus jokes. his laugh was always contagious to everyone around him because sakuya and ryo broke out in laughter as well.

he turned to you, smiling softly. “you having fun baby?” he said, his voice sweet and gentle. a little different than the voice he was speaking in before. you nodded, smiling. sion smiled a little more and kissed your cheek, earning a ‘ewwwww’ from his friends. his ears turned pink as he reached his hand over to yours, intertwining your fingers with one another and placing your hand in his lap, continuing the conversation as he left it off.

holding you when you cry. you weren’t the most emotional person but sometimes life got the best of you and you needed a good cry. in those moments sion holds you tight, like you’re going to fly away. he hates seeing you upset but he also knows that crying is healthy for people and it should happen, which is why he doesn’t stop you. he lets you cry and make his shirt wet with your tears but he doesn’t care, as long as you feel better afterwards. he’ll pick your head up and wipe your tears, whispering soft praises in your ear. his voice grounding you as you sniffle to wipe your own tears away.

“shh i got you, you’re okay” sion mumbled, pulling you into his chest. you didn’t know what had gotten into you, you had been so overly emotional all week long and finally you were bursting into tears over such a small thing. he stroked your hair, kissing the top of your head as you pulled back so he could wipe your tears. your eyes were glossy as you mumbled an apology and sion frowned softly. “don’t apologize my angel, i’m here for you always.” he said, his voice bringing you back as you smiled softly and sniffled. he smiled and wiped the tears away from your cheek, kissing your forehead.

constant praises. it would be random, when you least expect it really. but it would be about anything, from a congrats for getting through the day to a long message of him telling you how proud of you he is. sion always acknowledged every aspect of you and praised you as such, however it wasn’t to the point where it felt meaningless. each word sion said to you never felt empty, but rather full of love. “i’m so proud of you, my love” he would say, after a long day of work. kissing your knuckles as you two sat at the dining table, eating dinner. everything sion said to you always came from the heart, making it even more special.

soft kisses. sions kisses were as sweet as the words he spoke to you. he loved to kiss you wherever you would let him and it always felt so soft and sweet on your body. when he would kiss you, you swore you could feel yourself melting into his touch. it was weird what an effect he had on you. as he kisses your lips, one hand rests on your hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb while the other is holding your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss as you wish. a warm feeling spreads across as he kisses you, his smile growing more and more by the second until his cheeks begin to hurt. he would only pull back just for a quick breath and go back to it, getting lost in your taste as well as your lips.

doing nothing together. although sion couldn’t sit still for the life of him, there were times were you just did nothing with one another. it could be a facetime call or when he comes over to hang out with you at some point the two of you just sit in silence, doing your own respective things. it wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk to him, it was the fact that you two found comfort in just sitting there, either in each other's arms or being right next to each other.

a soft sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back on the couch, scooting a little closer to sion. he was scrolling on his phone while you were working on something for work. he noticed out the corner of his eye that you moved closer to him so he did as well, his hand finding its way to your thigh, resting it there. you smiled softly and glanced at him, “i’m almost done” you mumbled and sion only smiled. “it’s okay, take your time baby” he smiled, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. and you wonder how you lucked out with a boyfriend like him.

always texting you. as said before sion was a clingy boyfriend, he always wanted to be with you and that meant when he wasn’t with you he was always texting you. you couldn’t complain either because you were equally obsessed with him as he was with you. he texts you about anything he possibly can, mostly because he just wants to talk to you even if it’s dumb.

ocean 🤍: you know that cat we see on the way to that cafe ocean 🤍: i think it had a litter ocean 🤍: i saw it twice while i was walking with yushi ocean 🤍: and it had like all of these kittens ocean 🤍: where r u :((((( ocean 🤍: HELLOOOOO ocean 🤍: omg babe pls respond ocean 🤍: i’ll die in like. two seconds ocean 🤍: 2…. 2.25…. 2.23…

you: HELLO? i’m right here babe TT you: sorry i was in a meeting :(

ocean 🤍: OMG YAY THERE U ARE !!!!

you: omg she had kittens that’s so adorable you: i never even knew she was pregnant

ocean 🤍: i know right ocean 🤍: can we get one pls

you: baby……. no we cannot she can’t live at two houses <//3

ocean 🤍: i’ll move in with you ocean ��: we basically live together

you: oh sion you are not asking to move in together through text you: try again :|

ocean 🤍: wow babe we should go to this restaurant i have a super non discrete surprise question to ask you

you: wow should we ??? you: ur so silly

ocean 🤍: ur so cute ocean 🤍: together we’re sillycute <3

you: yes we are babe :))) you: so see u tn?

ocean 🤍: i’ll pick u up at 6 ;) ocean 🤍: okay bai love you

you: love u more <33

ocean 🤍: no me

you: we are not doing this again ……. you: i love u most

ocean 🤍: no me

you: goodbye baby

ocean 🤍: I LOVE YOU!!!!!

you: I LOVE YOU TOO!!!!!!!

taglist : @sunghoonsgfreal @polarisjisung @17ericas @ayukas @snwydoie @remtrack @honeyfever @chenlezip @hyuckluvr-com @cosmicwintr @uncasings @jaehyunsroses @kittydollzz @why-th0 @mmjhh1998 @f6llsun @leleszn @undomielsql @kynessa @haelvrty @httpsxnox @limbomoon @belleilichil @t-102 @defzcl @ajaaaaayyyyy @naeviscalled (bold cannot be tagged)

nct taglist

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pastryfication · 9 months ago

Note

could you write something about oscar proposing to his longtime gf? but maybe something private just the two of them because i imagine that oscar is not big on public engagements

i'm gonna love you 'til my heart retires

pairing: oscar piastri x reader note: this was so fun to write and i really love how this turned out!! might be my new favourite thing i’ve written. it’s so lovesick and cutesy and everything i want in a proposal 😭❤️

you’re sitting on the balcony of your shared apartment, overlooking the city of monte carlo as it’s slowly starting to wake up. the sky is a soft pink, the kind that makes you feel like the world is giving you a quiet hug. the morning is still cool, with the scent of fresh coffee mingling with the air. oscar’s sitting next to you, as he always does, his hand resting lightly on yours, caressing the soft skin. there’s a peacefulness between you, a silence that doesn’t need filling.

he’s never been one for grand gestures, despite the world of flashing cameras and roaring engines he’s a part of. you’ve both always preferred the quiet moments, the ones away from the spotlight. no one sees the way he looks at you when you’re reading, or how he listens so intently when you talk about your day. no one sees the kisses you share when he comes home after a triple header, or how you so tenderly takes care of him when he feels burdened by the intense pressure. it’s these moments you cherish, the ones that feel like they belong only to the two of you.

as the city slowly comes to life, he shifts a little, and you feel him reach into his pocket. your heart skips, but you don’t dare to hope too much, even though you’ve been together for years, sharing everything from lazy sunday mornings to the stresses of his racing season. he pulls out a small box, simple and unadorned, much like the way he lives his life off the track.

he turns to you, and for a moment, he’s just looking at you, as if trying to find the right words. when he speaks, his voice is steady, but there’s an unmistakable softness in it, a tenderness that’s only ever for you.

“you know,” he begins, “i’ve been thinking about this for a long time. it’s funny . . . i’ve driven some of the fastest cars in the world, experienced an immense amount of adrenaline, but nothing’s ever made my heart race like you do.”

he pauses, taking a deep breath, his eyes locked on yours in an eye contact that feels so safe. so familiar and right. “when we’re out there, on the track, everything is loud and chaotic, but when i’m with you, it’s like everything quiets down. it’s just . . . us. it’s just peaceful. you give me that calm, that feeling that no matter what happens, as long as i have you, i’m exactly where i’m supposed to be.”

you feel yourself tearing up, and he smiles a little, a soft, genuine smile that you know is reserved only for you. “i’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf, you know that. it’s just how i’m wired. i’ve spent so much of my life focused on racing, on training, that i didn’t really think i had space for anything else. but then you came along, and suddenly, everything else just fell into place. you made me realize there’s more to life than just the next race, the next victory. you gave me something to come home to, something to look forward to beyond the track.”

his hand tightens a little on yours, as if grounding himself in this moment. “i know i’m not always the best at saying how i feel, and i’m definitely not good at big romantic gestures, but you’ve always seen me for who i am, even when the rest of the world just sees the driver, the competitor. you see the real me, and you still choose to love me, and that’s something i’ll never take for granted.”

he opens the box, revealing a beautiful diamond ring that’s just like you would dream of. it’s not flashy or oversized, just perfect, like he somehow reached into your mind and pulled out exactly what you would have chosen.

“i didn’t want anything big or showy because i know that’s not you. and thats not me either.” he continues, his voice a little softer now. “but i want you to know that i’m sure, more sure than i’ve ever been about anything. i want to spend the rest of my life with you, in these quiet moments, in this perfect calm that we’ve built. i want us to keep building this life together, one day at a time.”

he takes another deep breath, his voice growing more tender as if he wants to say it just right. “you’ve been my best friend, my confidante, my anchor in a world that’s always spinning too fast. when everything else feels out of control, when everything becomes too much, you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded. you’ve been with me through the highs and lows, the victories and the defeats, and you’ve loved me through all of it. i can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

he swallows, his eyes never leaving yours. “i want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. i want to share all the quiet moments, the simple joys, and even the struggles, because i know that with you by my side, i can handle anything. you’ve made me a better person, a better man, and i want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you’ve made me.”

his eyes search yours, vulnerable in a way that makes your heart ache with how much you love him. “will you marry me?” he asks, and you can hear the slight tremor of nerves beneath his steady tone.

there’s no hesitation in your heart. this is right, this is everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in this quiet, perfect moment. tears are springing in your eyes as you nod, your voice catching in your throat as you whisper, “yes.”

he slips the ring onto your finger, and it fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be there. he leans in and kisses you, soft and sweet, the world around you fading away. it’s just the two of you, as it’s always been, and as you want it to always be.

you rest your head on his shoulder, your hands intertwined, the ring catching the morning light. the city continues to wake up around you, but it feels like time has slowed down, just for you two. there’s no need for words. everything you need to say is in the way you hold each other, in the peaceful quiet that wraps around you both.

this is your moment, perfectly private and beautifully simple, just like the life you’ve built together.

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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

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Mint Condition

Day 20 → Menthol Cream 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Oscar stands in front of the mirror, his shirt pulled halfway over his head, wincing as he twists his torso a bit too fast. That familiar sharpness shoots through his side, the one he’s been ignoring all day. His rib is still busted, still sore as hell. He drops his shirt on the floor, tired of fighting with it, and glances at the small jar of menthol cream sitting on the bathroom counter.

His eyes flick to the bed, where you're propped up against the pillows, nose buried in a book. The dim light from the lamp casts a soft glow over your face, your lips slightly parted as your thumb traces the edge of the page, but what catches his attention is how your nightgown is slipping, barely covering you.

“What's that look for?” You ask, not even glancing up, sensing him staring.

Oscar smiles a little, wiping it away before you can catch him. “What look?”

“The one you're giving me.” You finally put the book down, your eyes meeting his in the reflection. “You’re thinking something.”

Oscar opens the jar, pretending to be more focused on scooping out the thick, mint-scented cream than the fact that your eyes are on him. “Just … thinking I should have been more careful. Could have avoided this whole thing,” he mutters, rubbing the cool cream over his ribs, trying to be casual about it.

You roll your eyes, shifting in bed, pulling the duvet tighter around your shoulders. “You did your job, Oscar. Sometimes things happen. Doesn't mean you need to beat yourself up over it.” There’s a pause, and then your voice drops, softer now. “You're always too hard on yourself.”

He nods, but his attention is elsewhere, on the way your nightgown has slipped even further, revealing more of you — barely there under the light fabric. Something stirs in his chest, not the ache of his ribs but something more … magnetic. His hands slow, smoothing the cream over his skin, and the smell of menthol fills the air, sharp and cool.

“You want me to put some on for you?” You ask, breaking his thoughts, your tone so casual it takes him a second to catch up.

“Huh?”

“The cream,” you say, tilting your head. “You’re moving so slow. I can help if-”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” His voice comes out too quickly, and you raise a brow, noticing.

He clears his throat, finishing up, capping the jar and walking over to the bed, trying to keep his movements easy, natural. But his mind is elsewhere now — wondering what would happen if he did try it. How it would feel. If you’d laugh or look at him like he’s lost it.

He sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his ribs absently. “You think I’m too hard on myself?”

“Yeah. You act like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.” You close the book, setting it aside. “Like you’re the only one who has to get everything perfect.”

Oscar leans back, slowly easing himself into bed next to you. “Maybe that’s because everyone expects me to.”

You shake your head, sliding down the pillows a bit so you’re lying next to him, your head on his shoulder. “Not everyone. I don’t.”

He turns his head to look at you. “You don't think I should try to be perfect?”

“No one’s perfect,” you say simply, fingers absentmindedly tracing the hem of his shirt, which is now bunched up around his waist. “Not even you.”

He huffs a small laugh, though the thought nags at him. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he's been chasing something impossible, driving himself crazy in the process. But right now, in this moment, perfection feels closer than it ever has, lying here with you like this.

“I’m serious.” You shift so you’re propped up on one elbow, looking down at him. “You don't have to carry everything all the time. Sometimes it’s okay to let go.”

He blinks up at you, the words hanging in the air between you, and suddenly all he can think about is the feel of your skin under his fingers, the way you’re so close, the smell of that damn menthol cream still clinging to his hands.

You’re still talking, still trying to comfort him, but he’s distracted, watching your lips move, and his brain is running a mile a minute with this idea, this stupid, reckless idea.

Would you even like it? Would you even let him?

“You good?” Your voice cuts through the fog, and he realizes he’s just been staring at you. Your brow furrows slightly. “You’re being quiet.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” His voice is lower than he means it to be, almost rough.

You’re still staring at him, searching his face. “Oscar, what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

He’s quiet for a beat, his heart thudding in his chest. “It’s nothing.” But he knows that won’t fly. Not with you. You know him too well.

Your hand comes to rest on his chest, your fingers warm and familiar. “Tell me.”

He takes a breath. He should just say it. Just tell you what he’s thinking instead of sitting here with his mind spinning like this. But how do you even say something like that without sounding insane?

“I was just …” He hesitates, his fingers brushing over his ribs again, trying to find the words. “I was thinking about … the cream.”

You blink at him, confused. “The cream?”

He nods, his mouth dry. “Yeah. It’s just … I was wondering what it would feel like. On you.”

The words hang in the air, and for a second he thinks maybe he’s made a huge mistake, that you’re about to laugh or roll your eyes or something, but you don’t. You just look at him, really look at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything.

Finally, you break the silence. “You want to try it on me?”

His heart leaps a little, but he tries to stay calm, not wanting to seem too eager. “Only if you want to.”

You bite your lip, thinking it over, and then, to his surprise, you nod. “Okay.”

Oscar’s hand freezes on the jar as he processes what you’ve just said. He expected you to laugh it off, to shrug and change the subject, but you’re serious. You’re really letting him do this.

You shift under the covers, tugging your nightgown higher to give him better access, and he sits up, fumbling slightly with the lid as he tries to get it open without spilling any. His mind races as he scoops out a little of the cream, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tell me if it’s too cold,” he murmurs, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

You nod, lying back against the pillows, your eyes half-closed as you wait. He leans in closer, the scent of menthol filling the air again as he smooths the cream over your skin, his fingers moving slowly, deliberately. Your skin is soft under his touch, warm, and the cream feels almost electric between you.

You shiver a little at the cold, but you don’t pull away, your breath hitching as his fingers move over you, tracing the curve of your ribs, up toward your collarbone, and then lower, spreading the cool sensation across your skin.

“How does it feel?” He asks, his voice thick.

You swallow, eyes still closed. “Good. Feels good.”

He can’t help but grin, his heart racing at the way you react to him, the way you seem to melt under his touch. It’s intoxicating, the way your body responds to him, the way you let him take care of you like this, and he realizes just how much he’s been craving this kind of connection with you, this moment of quiet intimacy between the two of you.

You shift a little, your body pressing against his as you turn toward him, your hand coming to rest on his chest again, your fingers brushing against his ribs. “You okay?” You ask softly, your voice gentle.

“Yeah,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. “I’m good.”

Oscar hesitates, his hands still resting on your skin. The air between you feels thick, the weight of what’s happening settling over him, but he doesn’t feel nervous. Not really. It’s more like anticipation, like every inch of his body is tuned into you, hyper-aware of every breath, every shift, every little sound you make. He watches you carefully, waiting for any sign that you’re unsure, that this is too much. But you just look back at him, your eyes half-lidded, and your lips parted slightly.

“You sure about this?” He asks quietly, his voice rough around the edges.

You don’t even hesitate. “Yeah.” Your voice is soft, but certain.

Oscar swallows hard and nods, his fingers slipping under the edge of your nightgown. He pauses, just for a second, before starting to ease it up, the fabric whispering against your skin as he pulls it over your stomach, then your chest, and finally over your head, tossing it aside.

His breath catches as he looks at you — completely exposed now, lying back against the pillows, trusting him with all of this. It’s almost too much to take in all at once. He has to remind himself to keep moving, to keep breathing.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his eyes trailing down your body, taking everything in. The way your chest rises and falls, the slight tension in your muscles as you wait for him to touch you again. He feels a tight pull in his chest, the kind of feeling that makes everything else blur, as though his entire focus has narrowed down to just this, just you.

Your skin feels warm under his touch, still tingling from the menthol cream, and he can’t help but feel a little thrill at the idea of what’s coming next. His fingers tremble slightly as he dips them back into the jar, scooping out more of the cream, his mind already imagining how it’s going to feel on you, how you’re going to react.

“You okay?” You ask softly, your voice pulling him back to the moment.

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Just … trying to take my time.”

You smile at that, and something about the way you look at him right then makes his heart stutter in his chest. There’s no rush, no urgency. Just the two of you, here, together, in this quiet little world you’ve made.

He shifts, leaning over you, his hands hovering just above your chest, and for a second, he just looks at you. Then, slowly, he lowers his hands, spreading the cool cream over your skin, starting at the tops of your breasts and working his way down, his fingers moving with deliberate care.

You gasp softly, your back arching slightly at the sudden cold, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean into his touch, your breath hitching as his hands move lower, spreading the cream over your buds. Oscar watches, completely captivated by the way your body reacts, the way your skin tightens under his touch, the way your nipples start to harden, turning that perfect shade of pink.

“Jesus,” he breathes, his voice barely audible. “You look … you’re perfect.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it quickly turns into a shaky breath as his fingers move over you again, spreading more of the cream over your skin, lingering on your buds. He’s obsessed now, can’t stop staring at them, watching as they harden even more, turning a deeper shade of pink, almost like raspberries.

“How does it feel?” He asks, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You let out a soft moan, your head tilting back against the pillows. “Cold … but good. Really good.”

He grins, his heart pounding in his chest as he moves his hands lower, down your stomach, and then back up, focusing entirely on your chest, on the way your body seems to pulse under his touch. His fingers linger on your nipples, circling them slowly, gently, and he watches in awe as they respond to him, becoming more and more sensitive with every touch, every brush of his fingers.

“God, you’re amazing,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, his eyes never leaving your chest.

You let out another soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and it sends a thrill through him, knowing he’s the one doing this to you, that you’re letting him take care of you like this. He shifts again, leaning down slightly, his breath ghosting over your skin as he presses his lips to the curve of your breast, kissing the spot just above your peak.

“Oscar,” you breathe, your voice shaky.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, his lips still brushing against your skin.

“Don’t stop.”

He grins at that, his hands moving lower now, down your sides, over your hips, and then back up again, his fingers brushing over your stomach, your chest, everywhere. He’s completely lost in you now, in the way you feel under his touch, in the way you respond to him.

He moves back slightly, sitting up again as he reaches for the duvet, pulling it off the bed and tossing it to the floor. The air feels cooler now without the covers, and you shiver slightly, but it’s not just from the cold. He watches as your body trembles, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your skin flushed from the coolness of the cream and the heat building between you.

“Cold?” He asks, though he knows the answer. He can see it in the way your body reacts, the way you flutter beneath him, your skin covered in goosebumps.

“A little,” you admit, your voice soft, breathy.

He leans down again, his lips brushing against your collarbone as his hands move lower, his fingers tracing the line of your hips, your thighs. He can feel the tension in your body, the way you’re practically vibrating under his touch, and it drives him wild, makes him want to take his time even more, to make this last as long as possible.

He dips his fingers back into the jar of cream, scooping out more as he moves lower, his hands brushing over your inner thighs now, spreading the cream there, careful and deliberate. You let out a soft gasp, your back arching slightly off the bed, and Oscar can’t help but smile at the sound, the way your body responds to him so easily.

His fingers move higher now, spreading the cream over your bundle of nerves, and you let out a sharp gasp, your body jerking under his touch. He watches, completely captivated, as your clit starts to pulse, the skin tightening, turning a deeper shade of pink, almost red now, like a cherry, ripe and ready.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe. “You’re … you’re a goddess.”

You let out a soft moan, your body trembling under his touch, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “Oscar …”

He grins, his hands moving over you again, spreading more of the cream over your pearl, watching as it pulses under his touch, the skin glistening with the cream, the coolness making you shiver even more.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, his voice low, rough.

You nod, your eyes half-closed, your breath coming in quick, shaky gasps. “Yeah … it feels … God, it feels so good.”

He can’t stop now, can’t get enough of the way your body reacts to him, the way you seem to pulse and flutter under his touch. He watches, completely mesmerized, as your clit swells even more, the skin darkening to that perfect shade of red, just begging to be touched, tasted.

He leans down again, his lips brushing against your skin, his breath hot against your chest. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, his hands still moving over you, his fingers tracing your bundle, feeling the way it pulses under his touch.

You let out another soft moan, your body trembling even more, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your breath hitches in your throat. “Oscar … please …”

He knows what you’re asking for, knows exactly what you need, but he’s not ready to give in just yet. He wants to make this last, to draw it out as long as possible, to keep you on the edge for as long as he can.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I want to watch you a little longer.”

You let out a soft whimper, but you don’t argue, your body still trembling under his touch, your clit still pulsing, almost like it has a mind of its own, responding to his every movement.

Oscar leans back slightly, his eyes never leaving your body, completely captivated by the way you look right now, the way your skin glistens with the cream, the way your clit pulses under his touch, like it’s begging for him to take it.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing. “Absolutely perfect.”

Oscar watches you, completely captivated by the way you’re losing yourself in the sensation, your head tilted back, your eyes closed, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He can see how far gone you are, how the cool menthol cream has you teetering on the edge, your skin flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly as every little touch sends you spiraling further.

Your body is trembling beneath his hands, reacting to every brush of his fingers as if it’s too much and not enough all at once. He can see the way your pearl throbs, the way your chest arches as if you’re chasing something, needing more but not sure how to ask for it.

You’re unfocused now, completely surrendered to the feeling, and he takes a deep breath, his heart racing as he shifts slightly, giving himself just a second to gather his thoughts. This is everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s been thinking about, but now that he’s here, right on the edge of something, the weight of the moment hits him. There’s no going back after this.

He glances at you again, just to make sure you’re still okay, that you’re still with him, but your eyes are closed, your lips parted as you let out another soft sound, completely unaware of what’s coming next.

Oscar bites his lip, his fingers fumbling slightly as he reaches for the bedside drawer, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts at once. This is the moment he’s been building toward, but now that it’s here, his heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. He hesitates for just a second, his fingers trembling as they brush over the small foil packet.

His eyes flick back to you, but you’re still lost in the sensation, your head tilted back, chest heaving. He swallows hard, ripping open the packet and rolling the condom down over himself, his breath hitching as he feels the cool latex against his skin. It’s almost too much, the mix of anticipation and nerves making him feel like his heart is going to burst out of his chest.

He hesitates again, his eyes darting between the jar of menthol cream on the nightstand and the flutter of your walls, still reacting to his earlier touch. His mind spins with the idea, something reckless, something he knows he shouldn’t do but can’t resist. He scoops out a bit more of the cream, his hand shaking slightly as he spreads it over the latex, covering it in the same thing that’s been driving you crazy.

His breath catches, and for a second, he wonders if this is too much, if maybe he’s pushing things too far. But you’re still lost in your own world, completely unaware, completely vulnerable beneath him. He swallows hard, his mind buzzing with excitement and nerves as he shifts closer, his body hovering over yours.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nod, though your eyes stay closed, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Yeah,” you murmur, your voice thick with the haze of pleasure. “I’m … I’m okay.”

Oscar takes a deep breath, steadying himself as he lines himself up with you, his hands trembling slightly as he presses forward, the cool, tingling sensation spreading through you as he slides in.

You gasp sharply, your eyes flying open, and for a moment, Oscar thinks he’s made a mistake, that it’s too much, too overwhelming. But then your body arches against him, a soft moan escaping your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder, your hands gripping his arms tightly.

“Oscar …”

He grins, the sound of your voice, the way you say his name, sending a thrill through him. “Feel good?” He asks, his voice rough as he pushes in further, the cool menthol sensation making your skin tingle, every inch of you hypersensitive to the way his body moves above you.

You can only manage a soft whimper in response, your nails digging into his arms as you nod, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “Yeah … oh my God … it feels … so good.”

Oscar’s heart races as he moves, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate thrusts as he watches your face, completely mesmerized by the way your expression changes, the way your body responds to him. You’re still trembling, still fluttering beneath him, your eyes half-closed as the pleasure takes over, and he can see the way the menthol cream is affecting you, the coolness amplifying every sensation, making your body tense and arch beneath him.

He bites his lip, trying to keep himself under control, but it’s hard — harder than he expected. The cool tingling of the menthol, combined with the heat of your body, is almost overwhelming, and every little sound you make, every soft gasp and moan, sends him spiraling further.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he watches you, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts deeper.

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering shut again as you try to focus, but it’s clear you’re too far gone, too lost in the sensation to form coherent words. “I can’t … it’s too … oh God …”

Oscar can’t help but grin at that, a sense of pride swelling in his chest at the way he’s undone you, the way you’ve completely surrendered to him. He leans down, pressing his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs softly, “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

You nod, your fingers tangling in his hair as your breath comes in quick, uneven gasps, your body trembling beneath him as you cling to him, your nails biting into his skin. The cool sensation of the cream on your skin, combined with the slow, deliberate rhythm of his movements, is pushing you closer and closer to the edge, and Oscar can feel it — can see it in the way your body tenses and arches beneath him, the way your breath hitches every time he moves.

He moves a little faster now, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he watches your face, completely captivated by the way your expression shifts, the way your body pulses and trembles beneath him. It’s intoxicating, the way you’ve given yourself over to him, the way you trust him completely, and it drives him wild, makes him want to push you even further, to see how far he can take you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he leans down, kissing the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “God, you’re amazing.”

You let out a soft moan, your body arching against him as you gasp his name, your voice shaky, breathless. “Oscar … I’m … I’m so close …”

He grins, his heart racing as he moves faster, his hands gripping you tightly as he thrusts deeper, the cool, tingling sensation spreading through both of you as the cream amplifies every touch, every movement. He can feel it too now, that same edge, that same sense of urgency building inside him, but he pushes it down, focusing entirely on you, on the way your body moves beneath him, the way your breath catches every time he thrusts.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice rough, thick with desire as he watches you, completely captivated by the way you’re unraveling beneath him. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You gasp his name again, your body trembling, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as you cling to him, your nails biting into his skin. And then, all at once, you let go, your body tensing and arching beneath him as the pleasure overtakes you, a soft cry escaping your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder, your whole body trembling with the force of it.

Oscar grits his teeth, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches you, completely mesmerized by the way you come undone beneath him, the way your body pulses and trembles with every wave of pleasure. He’s never seen anything like it, never felt anything like this, and it sends him over the edge, his body tightening, his breath catching in his throat as he gives in, his hips bucking against yours as the pleasure crashes over him.

For a moment, neither of you moves, your bodies tangled together, your breath coming in quick, uneven gasps as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through both of you. Oscar presses his forehead against yours, his breath hot and heavy as he tries to steady himself, his heart still racing, his skin still tingling from the menthol cream.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his voice hoarse, rough around the edges.

You nod, your eyes still closed, your breath coming in shaky, uneven bursts. “Yeah … I’m good. That was …”

Oscar grins, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you, completely captivated by the way you look right now — flushed, breathless, completely spent. “That was amazing. First time I’ve ever been thankful to have a fractured rib.”

897 notes · View notes

tini5 · 8 months ago

Text

In Paris, With You...

Pairing : Drew Starkey x Reader

Summary : What starts as a playful tease from your best friend, Timothée about a crush quickly turns into an unforgettable night. Being invited to the Loewe fashion show in Paris, leads you to get tangled in your sheets with Drew.

Themes : Fluff/Smut

Word Count : 4346

Note : I am apologizing in advance bc it's my first time writing a fic that long, along with first attempt at writing smut and for drew in general!!! I tried my best, even tho i think i wrote more about timmys and taylors relationship i hope you enjoy!! Not proofreaded!!

"I wish you would get invited to Loewe’s fashion show in Paris,” Timothée said, his lips curling into a playful smile as he picked at a piece of sushi on his plate. The familiar hum of the restaurant around you made the moment feel even more personal, like the world outside was a distant dream, a comfortable quiet between you, only interrupted by the clinking of plates as the waiter brought over a fresh round of sushi.

Your place—our place, you thought—was a small, hidden sushi restaurant in New York, a cozy spot where you two came to unwind, laugh, and share stories you couldn’t share with anyone else. It was a place you and Timothée had claimed as your own since your careers first took off. A lot has changed since then. Starring in Luca Guadagnino’s movie “Challengers” and seeing your career take off at just 22, was truly amazing.

He leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, narrowing them at you like he was about to reveal a grand secret. “That way, you could meet your lover boy,” he teased, adding a dramatic hand movements with his chopsticks.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the flush creeping up your neck. “You want me to go to Loewe’s show just because of Drew starkey? I don’t even like him like that.”

Timmy raised an eyebrow, the smirk widening. “Lies, lies, lies,” he sang, his voice dripping with mock accusation. You hated how well he knew you—sometimes better than you knew yourself.

“Whatever,” you muttered, stabbing at your own sushi defensively as you put down your chopsticks. “Do you know who’s the brand ambassador of Loewe?”

The shift in Timothée’s expression was instant, his face scrunching up in a mix of guilt and annoyance, as if he knew exactly where this conversation was heading. He sighed dramatically, but before he could stop you…-

“The most gorgeous woman you fumbled because of you know who – the one who shall not be named,” you said, letting the word her hang in the air, dripping with emphasis.

There was no need to explain further. He knew exactly who you meant. You watched as his shoulders sagged slightly, but the smirk stayed on his face, though now it was more resigned than mischievous.

“Low blow,” he muttered, and you both burst into laughter, the memory of his ill-fated relationship hanging between you like a shared joke.

Who knew that Timothée’s big mouth could sense the future? But here you were, sitting in a car, watching the skyline of Paris blur past as you headed toward Loewe’s fashion show. It was almost too surreal, the memory of that sushi restaurant conversation lingering in the back of your mind.

You glanced over at Timmy, who was typing something on his phone, his thumb moving in rapid, practiced motions. He looked up for a second and grinned. "See? I told you. Here we are, ready for your lover boy," he teased, leaning back in his seat, eyes glinting with mischief.

You couldn’t stop the eye roll that followed. "I swear, you have an obsession with that phrase. But we don't even know if he'll be there."

"You hope he’ll be there," Timmy quipped, nudging your shoulder playfullly.

You tried to suppress a smile, but it was useless. Yes, you hoped. Drew Starkey had become a quiet fixation in your mind—there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was his blue eyes, his charisma, his –

Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your dress, custom-made by Loewe, every stitch and detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Jonathan Anderson had made sure it reflected not only the brand’s style but also you—soft yet bold, striking but elegant. You looked stunning, and you knew it.

The car ride felt both too long and too short, your mind spinning with what-ifs. Timmy, noticing your quiet, serious for once, put his phone away and turned to face you. "Hey," he said gently. "We can ditch it if you want. No fashion show and no boy is worth you eating your nerves over."

You smiled softly at him. That was the thing about Timothée—he knew when to be playful, and he knew when to be serious. He knew you. "I know," you said, your voice quiet but steady. "But I’ll be fine. Besides, you’d be miserable if you missed the after party later.”

Timmy shrugged with a grin. "Yeah, you’re probably right. But seriously, if you want to go, we’ll go. If you want to leave, we’ll leave."

You appreciated that more than you could say, but instead of responding, you looked out the window. The car slowed to a stop, and the reality of the situation hit you. The cameras, the people, the flashing lights—it was all waiting just outside.

"Ready?" Timmy asked, holding out his hand like a knight in shining armor.

You took a deep breath and nodded, slipping your hand into his. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The fashion show itself was a whirlwind. Lights, camera flashes, the hum of conversation blending with the soft music in the background. But amidst the glamour, you were determined to keep your distance from Drew. Every time you caught a glimpse of his tall frame, you did your best to blend into the crowd and focus on the runway.

Timothée, couldn’t resist teasing you about Drew, his playful remarks making it even harder to stay composed. Despite your heart fluttering every time you heard his soft laugh, you managed to keep your cool, or at least you hoped you did.

The show itself was a visual feast, with stunning outfits by Loewe that left everyone in awe. Timothée was in his element, charming everyone he spoke to, effortlessly gliding through the crowd. Yet, you could tell he was also trying hard to avoid running into Taylor Russell.

You couldn’t miss how his eyes flickered toward her now and then, a flash of something in his expression that only you could read. But you gave him space, knowing that whatever was going on between them was its own delicate web.

You exchanged polite smiles and laughed at jokes, did your best to keep up but your thoughts always circled back to one thing: Drew Starkey.

You both succeeded in your mission during the show. But as the show came to a close and the after-party beckoned, the sense of triumph was short-lived.

The after-party was a different beast altogether. And there, at the heart of it, was Drew Starkey, mingling with his entourage and catching your eye from time to time. Despite your best efforts, you felt the electric pull of his gaze, the gravity of his presence impossible to ignore.

Timmy noticed, of course. "We can leave, you know, get a take out" he offered again as you both stepped into the car. But you shook your head, determined now. “Then stop worrying. He is not going to eat you.” Teased Timmy.

Then it happened. As you sat at the table with Timothee, you saw Taylor Russell make her way through crowd.

You quickly turned to Timothée, a note of urgency in your voice. “Timmy, don’t panic, but she’s coming over.”

Timothée’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to look at Taylor. His usual nonchalance faded into a look of mild panic. “You’re kidding,” he muttered, trying to keep his cool. “Why does she have to pick now to come over?”

And before you knew… - “Hello” – Tension shifted as Taylor greeted you with her ever the sweetest voice.

“I’m going to grab a drink. I’ll catch up with you later.” you said, your voice carrying a light, reassuring tone. You shot him a quick look, raising an eyebrow. "I’ll kill you if you screw it up," you mouthed playfully, earning a quick smirk from him before you excused yourself to give them some privacy.

Making your way to the bar, you tried not to let your nerves overwhelm you. Just a drink, you thought. Just a quick drink, then I can blend into the background.

“One Cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, just as a familiar voice from beside you made your heart skip a beat.

“It’s on me.”

You turned, and there he was—Drew Starkey, leaning against the bar with a whiskey in hand, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

Your pulse quickened at the sound of Drew’s voice. He stood next to you, casually leaning on the bar like he belonged there—like he belonged everywhere. His tailored jacket hung off his broad shoulders as though it was designed for him alone. His eyes, that piercing blue you couldn’t forget, caught yours as he smiled—a lazy, confident grin that made your stomach do a flip.

“It’s on me,” he repeated, a little softer, his voice low enough to feel intimate despite the crowd around you.

Your heart stuttered, and for a split second, you forgot how to respond. All those times you’d fantasized about running into Drew Starkey in moments like this and now- He was right there, buying you a drink, and you felt like a teenager all over again.

“Thank you” you finally managed, forcing the word out without sounding too flustered. But your face betrayed you, the warmth creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks. You prayed the dim lighting would hide the blush.

The bartender slid your drink in front of you, and you lifted it to your lips, hoping the cool liquid would calm your nerves. But Drew was watching you—really watching you—and that made it impossible to relax. His eyes never left yours, and there was something about his gaze that made you feel both exposed and flattered at the same time.

“You look stunning, by the way,” Drew added, his voice velvety smooth, the compliment slipping out so easily it nearly disarmed you.

You blinked, trying to play it cool, but the way he said it made your heart race. "Thanks," you said again, "You’re not so bad yourself."

Drew chuckled, a deep sound that seemed to ripple through the air between you. His presence was intoxicating, almost as much as the drink in your hand. “I’ve been told,” he joked, his smile widening just enough to show a hint of mischief. Your lips tugged into a grin despite yourself.

“So," he said, leaning in a little closer, his elbow brushing lightly against your arm as if testing your boundaries, "how are you enjoying Paris?”

A warm smile spread across your face, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. “Paris is... well, it’s like coming home in a way,” you began, your voice tinged with affection. “Even though I grew up in the States, there’s something about this city that just feels incredibly familiar and comforting.”

You took a sip of your cosmopolitan, letting the flavors mingle with your emotions. “It’s the little things, you know? The way the light changes on the Seine, the scent of freshly baked pastries through the streets, It all feels so...Parisian. It’s like stepping into a world that’s both new and deeply personal at the same time.”

Drew’s smile widened, his expression softening, a genuine appreciation in his eyes. “I can see how much this city means to you. It sounds like you’re really embracing the magic of Paris.”

You nodded, a playful smile tugging at your lips“So the Queer, huh?” you asked, your tone light and teasing. Drew’s chuckle was light and warm, making you smile even more. “So the Challengers, huh?”

You both laughed, the easy banter between you making the moment feel effortless and natural.

“So, how was working with Luca? I know how he gets sometimes.”

His eyes lit up at the mention of Luca’s name, and you couldn’t help but smile warmly. “Luca is incredible. He’s not just a director; he’s like a creative force of nature. it’s like he has this unique ability to bring out the best in everyone he works with.”

You leaned in slightly, enjoying the conversation. “Oh, absolutely. Luca has this way of making you feel like you’re part of something truly special. I’ve learned so much from him. He’s like a father figure to me.”

Drew’s gaze was warm and appreciative, “Its sweet how full of love you are.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, is that so? But enough about Luca. What about you, Drew? What’s your creative magic like?”

Drew’s smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “My magic? Well, I’d say it’s more about finding the right moments to create something special. And right now, I think the real magic is happening here.” He gestured between the two of you with a teasing grin.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what makes you say that?”

Drew leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Well, I have to say, talking to you is a highlight of my night. You’ve got this incredible energy that’s hard to resist. And I’m not just talking about your career.”

A soft laugh escaped you, and you could feel the flirtatious tension between you growing. “Is that so? I must admit,you’ve got a way of making me feel special.”

Drew’s eyes met yours with a look that was both sincere and playful. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s not every day I get to chat with someone as fascinating and pretty as you”

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words. “Well, I’m glad I could make an impression”

Drew’s smile grew, his gaze held yours, But before either of you could continue, the moment shattered.

“Drew? What took you so long?”

Odessa’s voice sliced through the comfortable haze you and Drew had created, and the tension in the air shifted immediately.

You didn’t have to turn around to know it was her—the sharpness in her tone was unmistakable. Drew’s shoulders stiffened slightly, and though his smile didn’t completely fade, it wasn’t as easygoing as before.

Odessa was stunning, of course—there was no denying that But there was something about her presence that felt... strange. Maybe it was the way she looked at you, her eyes flicking up and down, sizing you up in a single sweep.

Her expression betraying a hint of impatience. “I was just about ready to head out. Are you not coming?”

Drew turned to her, his face a mixture of apology and concern. “Oh, right. I just got caught up in a conversation here. I’ll be right out in a moment, go wait outside okay?”

Odessa’s eyes flicked to you with a mixture of curiosity and something sharper—perhaps jealousy. She gave you a curt nod. “Nice to meet you.”

You offered a polite smile, trying to keep the interaction friendly despite the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you too, Odessa.”

Drew’s gaze returned to you, and there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart flutter. “I really enjoyed talking with you. I’m sorry –

You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding. “It’s okay. I hope you both have a good night.”

Drew’s smile was tinged with regret as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. “I’ll text you.”

With a final, lingering glance, Drew turned and walked away ,leaving you with a swirl of emotions. You watched him disappear into the crowd before taking a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest.

You downed the rest of your cosmopolitan in one go, hoping the drink would steady your nerves. Pulling out your phone, you quickly texted Timothée, letting him know you were heading out.

As you made your way to the Uber pickup area, you could feel the mix of excitement building inside you. Just as you settled into the backseat of the car, your phone buzzed with a new message.

It was from Drew.

Drew: I couldn’t stop thinking about our conversation. I’d love to continue it…

You: 44.

You: It’s my hotel room number.

You: Don’t make me wait.

The Uber ride back to your hotel was a blur. Your heart hadn’t stopped pounding.

You leaned your head against the window, watching the lights of Paris blur past as the adrenaline surged through your veins.

Stepping out of the car and you hurried your way up to your hotel room. Part of you wondered what you were getting yourself into, but the other part—the part that had been down bad for Drew Starkey since the moment you saw him—couldn’t resist the temptation.

And then, finally, not too long after you entered your room, a soft knock was heared. You froze for a moment, staring at the door, before gathering yourself and opening it.

Drew’s eyes were dark, intense, but his smile was soft, disarming. He stepped inside, the door closing quietly behind him, and suddenly the air between you felt charged, thick with anticipation.

“You really sent me your room number,” he said, voice low, teasing, as he leaned against the wall, watching you with that same amused glint in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to keep it light, though your heart was racing a mile a minute. “I figured you’d appreciate the direct approach.”

Drew laughed softly, stepping closer, his gaze flicking over you like he was taking in every little detail. “I do,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I really do.”

The touch of his fingers on your skin sent a shiver through you, and before you knew it, you were standing impossibly close, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

“Do you know how hard it was to not look at you all night?” he asked, his voice warm against your skin, his lips just inches away from yours. “You were all I could think about.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled over you, your heart pounding louder in your ears. You looked up at him, eyes wide, and for a moment, all the nervous energy melted away.

“I noticed,” you whispered, barely able to keep the teasing out of your voice.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your cheek, his breath warm against your ear. “Good.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours, soft but deliberate, like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had. The kiss was slow at first, testing the waters, but when you kissed him back, everything else melted away. It was just you and Drew, the rest of the world fading into the background as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, your hands instinctively finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity of it all.

Drew leaned his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his hands still holding you close. "I've wanted to do that for a while," he admitted, his voice low, almost a confession.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. "So have I."

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing into his in a kiss that was nothing like the first—a kiss filled with longing and heat. Drew responded instantly, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His lips moved over yours with urgency, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You moaned softly into his mouth, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He backed you toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours, his hands roaming over your body, sending sparks of desire everywhere they touched. You stumbled slightly, your legs hitting the edge of the bed, and you pulled him down with you, the both of you collapsing onto the mattress in a tangled heap of limbs.

Drew’s body hovered over yours, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His hands, now more confident, slid up the sides of your body, teasing the hem of your shirt before pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion. The cool air against your skin contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off his body, and you felt a rush of anticipation as his gaze darkened, his lips quirking up in appreciation.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Your breath hitched as his lips found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You arched into him, the sensation of his mouth on you sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. He worked his way lower, his fingers deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before his lips closed around your nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.

A soft moan escaped your lips, and Drew groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. He moved with purpose now, his hands sliding down your sides, tugging at your pants until they were nothing but a heap on the floor. Every touch, every kiss, felt like fire, like he was branding you with his desire.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver through you.

You reached up, pulling him closer, your lips crashing into his once more. The kiss was frantic now, filled with need and desperation.

Before you knew it, Drew had shed his own clothes, his body pressed against yours, skin on skin, the heat between you almost unbearable. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. And when he finally slid his hand between your thighs, teasing you, you gasped, your body arching into him, silently begging for more.

“Drew,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with need.

He smirked against your lips, his fingers dipping lower, sliding inside you with a slow, deliberate motion that had you seeing stars. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he worked you, his thumb circling your sensitive spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop…”

“Then don’t”, Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling beneath him, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled his fingers away, leaving you aching and desperate for more.

You let out a frustrated whimper, but Drew silenced you with a heated kiss, his body pressing down against yours as he positioned himself between your thighs. The moment stretched out, the anticipation crackling in the air, before he finally pushed inside you, filling you completely. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Drew groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, teasing you, making you crave more. Your hands slid up his back, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him to go faster, your body meeting his with every thrust.

The pleasure built quickly, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. Drew’s pace quickened, his breathing ragged in your ear as he drove you both closer and closer to the edge. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending on fire as he pushed you higher, the pressure building inside you until it was almost unbearable.

“Drew,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

He responded with a deep groan, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate as he chased his own release. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name.

Drew followed soon after, his body tensing above you as he found his own release, a deep groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest. He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat, still reeling from the intensity of it all.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing. Then Drew turned to you, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his lips as he reached out, pulling you against his chest.

“I think I’m gonna need your room number more often,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and contentment.

You laughed softly, your body still buzzing from the aftermath of everything that had just happened. “I think I can arrange that.”

With that, you curled up against him, your head resting on his chest, your heart still racing as you drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, the feeling of Drew’s arms wrapped around you the last thing you remembered.

And just like that, as you drifted into sleep, one thought lingered:

"Sometimes, love isn’t about chasing a fairy tale or clinging to the past. It’s about embracing the unexpected, even if it’s wrapped in a Loewe suit and a pair of smoldering eyes that see right through you."

TMZ_TV : Last night’s Loewe show was nothing short of spectacular! From jaw-dropping designs to unforgettable moments, the runway was on fire. 🔥

🌟 Y/N L/N stunned in a custom Loewe creation by Jonathan Anderson, embodying elegance and innovation. Meanwhile, Drew Starkey’s sleek Loewe suit had everyone talking.

👀 The real buzz? The chemistry between them at the afterparty! The night was filled with high fashion and even higher drama. 💫

Swipe to see the highlights and catch up on the latest fashion gossip! 💃🕺

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

I am very nervous!! Hope you liked it and i did not disappoint you...

#drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #timothée chalamet #timothee chamalet #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader

905 notes · View notes

dollivication · 2 months ago

Text

ᥫ᭡. PEGGING THEM ᥫ᭡.

ᢉ𐭩 ft. hwang in-ho/player 001/the frontman, seong gi-hun/player 456, thanos/choi su-bong/player 230, kang dae-ho/player 388, nam-gyu/player 124

ᢉ𐭩 cw: nsfw, men getting FUCKED IN THE ASS, fem!reader. mdni

ᢉ𐭩 tags: @inholover4l

ᢉ𐭩 a/n: idc.. butt sluts. i would talk about scissoring squidgame boypussy 2 but idk if the world is ready 4 that.. anywho enjoy!! :3

HWANG IN-HO/PLAYER 001/FRONTMAN

-you're the one that has to introduce it to him. otherwise, in-ho wouldn’t have even remotely thought of the act—he’s the one who likes to call the shots, after all. pegging him would mean handing off a large portion of control to you, a very foreign concept to him that just doesn’t sit right with him… at first, anyway.

-you probably have to keep bringing it up, maybe even beg a little to get him to consider going through with it. trying to convince him is the equivalent of trying to beckon a stray cat over to you: just when you think it’s interested, it turns its back right to you.

-it gets to a point where you start to feel hopeless. maybe pegging him just wasn’t written in the stars… until he gifts you a strap-on. it wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you presents every time he’d return home, but you didn’t think he’d actually come around to the suggestion!

-“I figured this would make you happy,” in-ho would tell you, shameless about his purchase as he’d brush his lips against your temple whilst you gawked at the item in your hold, a hand already beginning to travel towards your inner thighs. “Let’s put it to good use, hm?”

-with lube applied to the dildo and his asshole, in-ho soon found himself laying on his back with your hands on his smooth yet firm thighs, spreading them apart to reveal his half-hardened cock and rear. it was an unfamiliar feeling for the two of you, with him playing the part of the submissive partner and you the dominant one when it was typically the other way around.

-“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he’d warn. it was an unspoken concern—be careful. it’s my first time; i might not like it… it was almost funny how his demanding nature didn’t even flicker in his defenseless position.

-aligning the tip of the faux cock against his hole, you could hear in-ho give a sharp intake of air, his abdomen muscles tensing up yet his face remaining unreadable. when you slowly pushed in, an unmistakable grunt passed through his lips, eyebrows furrowing as his dick twitched ever so slightly, tapping against his stomach.

-you allowed in-ho to adjust to the intrusion, the man below you taking deep breaths. he never looked better—his hair sprawled out beneath him on the pillow like a messy halo as his skin glowed faintly with perspiration, chest rising and falling rapidly whilst he’d turn his head to the side in hopes of maintaining some dignity… you knew he asked you to hold back somewhat, but the way he appeared at that moment seemed to snap all inhibitions out of existence.

-“Ah..” in-ho’s voice came in a small hiss as you thrusted your hips, the fake dick making itself right at home in his gummy walls. with the way he closed his eyes and parted his lips in silent moans, you could feel yourself getting wet, getting all too eager to make him dumb on silicone. maybe get a piece of revenge for all the times he’s fucked you stupid with little mercy. you’d grab a fistful of his damp locks, forcing his gaze towards you once more.

-the moment you quickened your pace, all of in-ho’s heavy breaths gradually transitioned into low moans. his cock would respond accordingly to each speedy thrust, his half-lidded eyes peering up at you with a mix of annoyance and a burning desire for more—the reluctant acknowledgment of being powerless to do anything yet simultaneously enjoying that lack of authority.

-with one final push, he’d stiffen up, failing to hold back a wavering groan as his cum would shoot onto his stomach in long ropes, the substance mixing in with the saltiness of his sweat—a filthy resulting concoction of lust. “Ngh..”

-albeit thoroughly satisfied, he wouldn’t be too happy with you, some tousled hair barely covering an eye as he wore a stern expression. he wouldn’t hesitate to flip you two over, already working to undo the harness around your lower section.

-“Didn’t I tell you to not get carried away?” he’d remind with a firm hold on your neck. “Maybe it’s time you remember who’s really in charge here..”

-overall.. he’s not the biggest fan of pegging. mostly because he thinks it threatens the control he has over you. the last thing he needs is you getting too cocky.

-doesn’t have any particular preferences for the dildo itself. anything standard, like a regular dildo instead of a realistic one, is good for him. average size too, please. (lame…)

-but sometimes he’ll let you peg him as a treat—to give you the illusion of having power only for him to shatter it afterwards. it’s the satisfaction of seeing you act all high and mighty before he thoroughly puts you back in your place. to him, it’s just like a game to play with a dog. <3

SEONG GI-HUN/PLAYER 456

-he’s the one to bring it up first. gi-hun, despite his age, has a high libido. it’s no surprise for him to want to try something new in the bedroom even if he’s a bit bashful when suggesting it to you. it’s all cuteness on the surface to hide the horniness underneath.

-“I was just thinking we could, you know..” he’d trail off, a single finger tugging at a wavy strand of his hair. he knows you wouldn’t judge him, but it’s no easy task telling you what he wants. “If you could.. do me? From behind?”

-he’d cringe at his own words, nearly backtracking until you assure him you’d be more than willing to grant his wish. he’ll give you a sheepish smile, mumbling a ‘thanks’ and kissing your cheek. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

-…when the time actually comes, gi-hun lets go of every and any doubt he might’ve had. he’s looks like an animal in heat with the way he has his ass up in the air for you, face held against the bed as pitiful moans freely flowed from his mouth.

-“Harder! Please, fuck me harder..!” he’d sob out into the sheets, his cock dangling purposelessly with every plunge of your hips. the rosy tip would drool with pre-cum, beady strands forming only to break off and stain the comforters below a shade darker.

-he’ll push back onto your strap, his plush ass pressing against you as his puckered hole swallows the dildo without issue. gi-hun whines like a slut when you suddenly stick your index and middle finger into his mouth, his warm saliva enveloping your digits as his tongue laps at them.

-he’s damn well near crying from how good it feels, your other hand sneaking down to stroke his dick doing nothing to help his pathetic noises. “I’m—I can’t—Oh, fuck!” he’d stammer, words slurred as your velvety breasts would press on his back. “Gonna cum.. can’t take anymore..”

-he’ll look over his shoulder at you, his gaze watery with heavy lids and chin covered with drool. the way you fuck him like a sex toy makes his thighs quiver, ultimately unable to hold back the thick amount of seed that shoots out into your palm with a high pitched whimper. “Oh..! Mmh!”

-he’ll keep bouncing his hips on the dildo in a weak effort to ride out his high, babbling incoherently from having you fuck his brains out. “Thank you, thank you so much.. I love you..”

-conclusively, he adores getting pegged as much as he loves fucking your cunt! especially if you use those realistic dildos with the fake cum. he loves getting filled up by you and feeling the substance dribbling down his asshole to his balls, even if it’s artificial.

-gi-hun probably needs you to peg him once or twice a week. will definitely ask repeatedly for it like a starved puppy if you haven’t done it for a while. either way, he loves getting messy with you any way he can. a true little whore for you <3

THANOS/CHOI SU-BONG/PLAYER 230

-he’s another one that mentions it first. “Yooo..” he’d come up to you as he’d drawl your name, throwing an arm over your shoulders. He gives you a little smirk before kissing your cheek, smothering you in affection more than what was the norm.. You could tell he wanted something. “So. Let’s fuck,”—there it was—“but,” he’d raise a multicolored-fingernail hand, as if putting a pause on real time much like a conductor signaling an orchestra to stay quiet to build up the anticipation. His hand then closed, letting only his index finger stand, pointed towards you. “You do the fucking. How about it? Yes, no?”

-he’s got no shame in asking for what he wants, let alone if it comes to sexual activities. if it feels good, then he doesn’t have a problem with it. it’s just up to you whether or not you would want to indulge in the same thing as him, which if in this case you don’t, then that’s fine by him too. there’s always other ways to find pleasure with you.

-otherwise, he’d be ecstatic once you agree to peg him.. a bit too ecstatic, as a matter of fact. maybe it’s the drugs making him so enthusiastic. or maybe he just really looks forward to getting it up the ass by none other than his pretty lady.

-that being said, you still somehow end up on the bottom. but it’s not all that bad. you get the perfect view of thanos fucking himself on your fake dick, rocking his hips as he pumps his throbbing cock, his cross necklace swaying with every gesture. “Ahh, shiiit..” thanos would hiss, catching his bottom lip with his canine.

-your poor boyfriend wouldn’t be able to handle doing all the work himself though. after a few minutes of bouncing he’d come to a stop and let out an impatient groan that bordered on a whine, narrowing his eyes at you. “Hey, you’re not doing much fucking, babe. You know that?” thanos would complain, his eyebrows furrowing as he’d tilt his head at you. “Fuck me. Like, actually.”

-…he’s got a strange way of getting what he wants from you. but you have no objections to placing your hands on his waist, thrusting up into your boyfriend’s hole. “Yeah, right there.. Damn, baby..” he’d groan, sucking in air through his teeth as he’d move with you.

-“Knew you had it in you.. making me feel so fucking good.” thanos growls, his cock twitching at the obscene sounds of skin against skin harmonizing with heavy breathing. he isn’t embarrassed to let you hear his sounds. you’ve got every right to know how good you are at what you do, and that’s currently making him cockdrunk.

-thanos is terribly expressive as well. the way his eyelashes flutter and how he parts his lips in ecstasy makes your pussy clench around nothing, your hips beginning to move faster into him as you hold him down on the strap, forcing him to feel every thrust into his gummy walls. “Fuck, I’m getting there.. Wanna cum all over your pretty tits when I do.”

-your hands explore one another’s bodies frantically, your clit aching at just how easy your boyfriend could be. his own hands would come down onto your chest, squishing your breasts together and squeezing harsher than you would’ve liked if you weren’t so entranced by the sight above you. the creaking of the bed, your skin under his fingers, his moans echoing while he took every inch of your silicone cock—it’s enough to make thanos tense up, squeezing his eyes shut.

-his cum shoots all over your chest and stomach, coating you in his sticky essence as he keeps playing with your tits absentmindedly, riding out his high with light bouncing. when he finally comes down from his climax, he’ll give you a tired but cheeky smile, his voice breathless as he drinks in the view of your cum-covered body. “..Y’look hot. Round two?”

-he is the only one who actually wouldn’t mind the thicker/larger side of dildos. thanos is all about debauchery, and he even might be the one who tries to turn the intensity up. no matter what kind of dildo, he’s open to anything as long as he gets to cum. (freak..)

KANG DAE-HO/PLAYER 388

-you introduce it to him. i doubt dae-ho has ever thought about being pegged—it’s probably the first time he’s even been exposed to the concept. even though hes probably got some experience under his belt—i reckon maybe shared a few kisses when he was younger, went on dates, the usual tame exploration. but never quite to this level.

-but he trusts you. he knows you wouldn’t suggest something to him if it would hurt him, so he’s quick to get on board with the idea. that’s not to say he isn’t a bit hesitant. this was unknown to him, another type of intimacy where he has to let you take control and let you walk him through it. a total role switch that he’s unfamiliar with, but has enough faith in you to give it a shot.

-“You, uh.. You don’t think this is gross?” he’d mumble as you lubricate his asshole with a delicate hand, eyes flickering between you and his puckered hole. the question doesn’t come from his own opinion on the matter, but rather out of insecurity. he’ll try to cover it with a smile, but his avoidance in meeting your gaze rats him out.

-you, of course, know better than to continue without reassuring him. communication was the strongest aspect in your relationship, making it all the more easier to reassure him with a gentle tone, promising him you had nothing to be disgusted about. your comfort was not in vain, proven as dae-ho relaxed his body and nodded his head understandingly.

-when you actually sunk into him, he couldn’t help but to whimper at the feeling, his asshole stretching to accommodate to the intrusion. “Feels.. feels weird. Just give me a second,” he’d tell you shakily at the halfway point, leaning his head back to take a few deep breaths. “It doesn’t hurt, it just.. Dunno. It’s new.” he’d swallow thickly, waiting a moment before giving you a nod. “I.. Think I’m okay now. Go ahead..”

-his hands would clutch at the bottom of his thighs as you moved your hips in slow rolls, the male beneath you watching the dildo disappear and reappear while you did so. hearing your ceaseless praise and feeling your care made him shudder, his cock stirring at the combination.

-a tiny moan of pleasure would fall from your boyfriend’s mouth, followed by another and another the more you gently thrusted in him. “Mmf.. It’s—It’s starting to feel better,” he’d tell you, like a boy telling his mother about the scrape on his knee. “Oh, god.. A little faster, please?” he’d timidly request, unsure if he was overstepping any boundaries by asking such of you.

-dae-ho’s moans become louder when you comply, the two of you gaining more confidence in your respective actions. his voice is almost sweet as it calls your name breathlessly, small pleas following. he’ll let go of one of his thighs to reach out to you, bringing you closer down to him.

-he’ll press your foreheads together, your lips brushing against one another as his cock weeps with pre-cum. his eyes become glossy from the pleasure coursing through his veins, his sentences coming out in a higher pitch. “I feel so good.. Please,” he’d beg, not entirely sure himself as to what for. “I’m not gonna last long..”

-dae-ho’s once coherent words were rapidly turning into blissful babbles, his mouth needily chasing yours as your pace quickened. he’ll whimper into the kiss, your own lips tingling from the vibrations as your tongues took control of the contact. it wasn’t until he gasped and dug his nails into your shoulder that you realized you’d pushed him over the edge earlier than expected. on the other hand, it took him a couple of blinks and gulps of air to notice the mess on his abdomen. “..Shit.”

-…he is the only one that doesn’t have a strong opinion on pegging (i.e: not a total whore about it, but not a hater either..) he’s rather indifferent about it, but always open to it should the moment ever call for it. he loves you and is willing to get intimate with you in whatever way you wish!!!!

-has no particular taste in the dildo either. so long as it isn’t anything excessive (there’s a limit to the things he will do and won’t. it’s nothing personal, he just doesn’t find it appealing!), he doesn’t care if it’s realistic or the typical colored phallic. :3

NAM-GYU/PLAYER 124

-you bring it up first. but like with most things, you’re met with resistance. “That’s gay,” nam-gyu would deadpan, shooting down the suggestion in a heartbeat. “I’m not letting you touch my asshole. Don’t be gross.” his nose would scrunch up, giving you a dirty look as if you’d said something to personally offend him.

-even if you leave it at that and accept his rejection, he’d get a little curious and it would be on his mind nearly all damn week. “She’s crazy..” he’d bite down on a fingernail, fingertips prodding at his bottom lip. “That’s gotta hurt like all hell anyway.”

-but no matter how much he claims to find it nasty or painful, he watches one porn video that includes pegging and he’s suddenly hooked on it. surely it can’t feel that good. those guys are just exaggerating their moans for likes and views.. right? (he immediately goes to order a strap-on)

-caves in quickly without you even having to ask him. “Just to save myself from any more of your bitching later,” he’d say with a scoff, shoving the harness into your hands.

-he’s already lowering his pants before you could react, his stiff cock slapping against his stomach. he’s just too damn proud to admit that he’s horny at the thought of you fucking him, too arrogant to admit he wants it immediately…

-did you think he was a brat before? well now, it’s x10. “Harder, come on.. Are you even really trying?” he’d demand in a moan, his palms placed against the wall in front of him with his shirt lifted just above his chest. he was facing away from you, bent forward only slightly as he looked over at you.

-his lips were curled in distaste, giving you that nasty glare you’d come to know just as well as him while you thrusted into him. he was evidently dissatisfied by the pace you held, acting as if he’s done this multiple times before when both of you knew he damn well hasn’t. he’s acting like you wronged him for being cautious!

-if you want him to tone down the whole bitchy attitude, there’s no better time to do that than the present. gotta give the man what he wants, no? you grab him by his waist, your nails digging into his skin so much that they form little red crescents. the tiny fire that ignites in him at the sensation makes nam-gyu curse, his words faltering when you finally start putting in a punishing force behind your movements.

-“That’s it.. Hoh, fuck, that’s it..” he’d mewl, his own fingers digging into the long-sleeves of his top. he’d release one sleeve to reach down to his weeping dick, beginning to pump himself with the help of your thrusts. his ass ripples with every pound you give, his back arching while his knees pointed inwards towards each other. “Yes, yes, yes..”

-one of your own hands will take the liberty of grabbing at his hair, tugging on the strands. his head will follow the motion, falling back as a sharp whine escapes from him. the pain bordering on pleasure made his legs quiver beneath him, his cock pulsating at your harsh treatment.

-“Shit, I’m almost there.. don’t stop..” he’d slur, biting his bottom lip as he’d stroke his cock faster. “Make me cum. Make me—fuck—..!” he’d let go of his lip, mouth falling open in a gasp at feeling you suddenly force his entire upper form up against the wall, his warm body pressing on the cold surface, nipples tingling at the temperature contrast.

-nam-gyu will shudder, his eyes rolling back. he’d probably look back on this moment later and damn himself for acting like such a prostitute, but for now he’s too caught up in the pleasureful haze right now to be totally aware of himself.

-he’d be unable to speak coherent sentences anymore, the dildo buried to the hilt inside him causing him to pant and groan. you’ve finally found a way to shut him up, it seemed.

-he’ll shut his eyes upon feeling his abdomen tighten, his cock spurting out his seed onto the wall. he’ll give a soft grumble as you continue your motions gently, his hand releasing his dick to reach behind him to swat at you. “Enough..” he’d mutter.

-after the whole thing, nam-gyu will act like he didn’t enjoy it as much as he seemed to: “It wasn’t that good,” he’d insist, “people hype that shit up for no reason.” ….. you both know the truth, obviously. he just has an ego that keeps him from admitting it.

-he only lets you peg him when he wants you to, unfortunately, which isn’t all that often. he’s still under the impression that it’s gay. and because submission isn’t a good look on him, he thinks. he’d rather be the one doing the fucking.

-a word of advice though.. he won’t be all that against it if you’ve blueballed him for a while. as tough as he might act, he is easily touchstarved. touch is literally his love language, so any form of it will do when it gets to that point. will be that much more of a slut on your strap too >.<

-prefers a dildo that’s a little below average size and not realistic. he does not want something like those abnormally large dildos going up his ass, let alone if it’s imitating the real thing. you’d already be pushing it if you walked up to him with a dildo that is even slightly above the typical size… nam-gyu is picky all around :/ but if you train him enough… well, who knows? <3

#in ho x reader #in ho squid game #gi hun x reader #seong gi hun #thanos x reader #thanos x you #thanos squid game #dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #nam gyu x reader #player 001 x reader #player 456 x reader #player 230 x reader #player 388 x reader #player 124 x reader #choi su bong #namgyu x reader

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snowball-doie · 9 months ago

Text

| pairing: Haechan x gn!Reader ; Yuta x gn!Reader ; Jaehyun x gn!Reader

| information: 18+ MDNI. Haechan and Jaehyun's happy trails. Yuta's arm pit hair. Licking/kissing body hair. Arm pit kink(?) Blowjobs. Unprotected sex. Rough sex. Creampie(s). Mentions of sex toys, bondage, light impact play (slapping). Mild body worship. Drool. Light dacryphilia. Haechan's more on the subby side for this one. Yuta def the nastiest one, goddamn...

| aurora's note: I'm a ride or die for soft tummy Hyuck.... If you don't agree...... this one's prob not for you... Also, please check out my dynamics page for more info on switch!Haechan, Dom!Yuta, and Daddy!Dom!Jaehyun!

HAECHAN | even before you started dating, hyuck had been shy about his body. he was confident, that wasn't the problem, it was just that he didn't care to show himself off to the rest of the world like some of his other members did. it was their choice to do that. haechan wanted to save himself for whoever he'd fall in love with, because he wanted every bit of him to be theirs. the first time you saw him naked, you were taken aback by him-- he freaked out, thinking that you disliked what you saw, but it was the exact opposite, you were so enamored that you couldn't take your eyes or hands off of him. you started by littering tons of hickies around his neck, collarbones, chest, and even his stomach. oh, fuck, you loved how his stomach tensed the further down you went. he begged you for more... he was so embarrassed when you hesitated around his stomach, admiring it for a moment before you put all your attention on his small happy trail. he shaved it a bit. it was like he appreciated the act of grooming himself, but understood the necessity of having something there too-- and he conformed a bit to the expectations of korean men by keeping some hair. "wait--" he moaned when you laid your tongue flat against the bottom of his happy trail and licked upwards. he shivered. "wait, that's..." but another moan got caught in his throat when you did it again while looking up at him through your lashes. oh, fuck, he was so madly in love with you. no one appreciated every inch of his body the way you did. no one understood him like you did. after that, hyuck wasn't shy after that. the slip ups on stage where his shirt would come up too high and reveal his happy trail, it made him grin to think that you were watching and dreaming of getting to touch him again. when he got more cocky, he began lifting his shirt up to reveal his stomach-- sometimes he regretted it when he'd get home and you'd have him pinned under you for hours on end, draining orgasm after orgasm out of his body. but that didn't stop him from doing it again.

YUTA | the man with no shame whatsoever was yuta nakamoto. that man was willing to try anything and everything with you, and whatever was throwing his way in conversation or in the middle of sex would make him fall more in love with you. "sir, can we try out this new toy i found online?" "yes, darling, i'd love that." and then he'd torture you until you were begging him for mercy, and then some for good measure. nothing seemed to be out of bounds for him, it always came down to what you wanted and what your hard no's were. honestly, even you were a bit shocked when things took a turn one thursday night after he'd come straight home from the airport after being in china for a week. yuta loved to have his hands on you. the second he was through the door, he was leading you towards the bedroom, mumbling things about how he was going to fuck you so hard that you wouldn't be able to walk until you had to go to work on monday-- until then, you were all his. when he had you on the bed, your arms were immediately pinned over your head so that he could show his dominance. it worked. you immediately fell in line for his kisses and the way he fucked his cock in and out of you at a blissfully quick pace. but there was something distracting you. something you usually didn't pay too much attention to. he hadn't shaved in a while-- in fact, in preparation for his solo album, and in protest of his company's grooming expectations, yuta refused to shave his arm pits, and during his week away it seemed he was really letting it show. the tweets. oh, fuck, they were getting to you more than you realized. leaning your head up, you kissed the underside of yuta's arm. he shivered like it tickled, but he didn't stop you from kissing closer and closer until you stopped out of your own shyness. "do it." it wasn't a question, it wasn't a reassurance that it was okay to do, it was a flat out demand from your Dom that you couldn't ignore. so you swallowed your pride then kissed the thick patch of hair in his arm pit. yuta grinned. "dirty thing, aren't you? missed me that much?" you nodded in agreement. yuta continued to fuck you until your legs were shaking and your head was spinning, and he made sure you were stuffed full of his cum. fuck, you really were obsessed with every inch of him, weren't you? and of course he would never let you forget it. any time he wore a sleeveless shirt, yuta would make sure to stretch his arms over his head, or he'd corner you against the wall and put one of his arms next to your head while he leered over you. he loved how you were capable of worshipping every inch of his body. and he loved how embarrassed you got whenever he'd tell you to be dirty again and kiss or lick the patch of hair in his armpits. if you were too shy to do it, he'd grab you roughly, give your cheeks a few light slaps, and tell you to be good for him.

JAEHYUN | he loved to watch you drool. truly. it didn't matter if it happened when he fucked you for so long that you'd gone dumb and couldn't think about anything aside from his thick cock going in and out of your tight hole, or if it were when he fucked your face. you just looked so cute. struggling to take his entire length in your mouth, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, moans gurgling in the back of your throat as you tried to decide if you wanted to fight him off or let him continue to use you. it usually boiled down to the latter. all that drool at the base of his cock, it made jae's eyes cross. oh, but best of all was whenever he'd tip right over the edge finally, so he would grab your hair roughly and force you to take every single inch in your mouth, regardless of how difficult it could be, and your nose would be forced against the prickly texture of his pubes that he loved to show off to fans. after finishing down your throat with a hefty grunt, jaehyun would release you, watching as you gasped for air, drool and cum leaking everywhere. no, no. that wasn't sufficient. you were better than that. "clean up your mess for daddy." you'd obediently begin licking up the cum from his softening cock, his balls, and then when you were sure you'd done a good job, he'd tsk his tongue and force you to lick everything up from his pubic hair. "that's it... you're doing so good... make sure to get every drop." no one would ever know the nasty things he had you do for him, not even when he'd leave you in bed to rest behind closed doors while stylists would swarm the rest of the hotel suite to get him ready for the fashion show where he'd be showing off that same happy trail he had your nose buried in mere hours prior.

#op #nct #nct smut #nct fanfic #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fanfic #haechan #haechan fanfic #haechan smut #yuta #yuta nakamoto smut #yuta smut #yuta nakamoto #yuta fanfic #yuta nakamoto fanfic #jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun smut

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itsnesss · 4 months ago

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Hi how are you!!! Could you do a Jun-Ho fluff where he proposes please and thank you🥺🥺 I’ve been loving him lately!

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request. junho proposes to you in a super romantic way and your have a moment of intimacy

warnings | fluff, romance, smut, explicit content, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 2.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The soft light of the restaurant illuminates your face, and you can't help but notice how special this place feels. The gentle hum of background conversations mixes with relaxing music, creating an almost magical atmosphere. But what truly makes everything shine is him, sitting across from you, with his typical calm smile, yet full of tenderness.

You can't stop thinking about everything you've been through together. Every moment, every conversation, every smile. Though the circumstances under which you met weren't the most common, you and he had created something unique. Something that was more than special. And today, here, in this elegant restaurant, you realize how deep his presence has become in your life.

Dinner unfolds naturally. The food is exquisite, but your eyes are fixed on Junho. Every gesture he makes, every word he says, makes you fall more in love. He, for his part, seems calm, but you can see in his eyes that something is occupying him, as if he's weighing something important.

“There's something I want to ask you...” he says, his voice soft, but his tone carries a contained emotion.

Your heart skips a beat when you hear those words. You know something important is about to happen, and while you try to remain calm, the nervousness starts tickling your stomach. You have the sense that this moment will change everything between you.

“Of course... what's going on?” you ask, trying to disguise the tremor in your voice. The smile on your lips doesn't fade, but there's a spark of uncertainty in your eyes.

Junho looks at you intently, his eyes searching for something in you, as if he's looking for the exact words. His expression is a mix of seriousness and tenderness, but also of palpable nervousness. Like he's about to take a leap into the unknown.

“I don’t know how to put it into words... but I've thought about it a lot...” he says, finally, letting his words fall slowly, as if he's afraid something might shatter the magic of this moment.

You feel even more anxious, but you manage to maintain composure. Everything seems to stop for a second. The sounds of the restaurant fade, the air thickens, and the only thing you can feel is the rapid beat of your own heart. You're waiting, with all your being, for Junho to finish speaking, although you somehow already know what's about to happen.

Suddenly, his hand moves towards his pocket and, with a gesture that seems so calculated, so full of determination, he pulls out a small black velvet box. The world seems to freeze for a second. Everything inside you ignites, and despite the serenity of his face, you know that this is the moment you've been waiting for, even though you didn't know it until now.

He opens the box carefully, revealing a simple yet beautiful ring. The diamond at the center seems to shine with its own light, as if reflecting all the emotions flowing between you in that instant. His eyes meet yours, and it feels like the whole universe is summed up in that gaze.

“I love you with everything I am...” he says, his voice full of emotion. His hands tremble slightly, but there is an unshakable certainty in his words. “And I can’t imagine my life without you. I’ve found everything I want in you, and I feel incredibly lucky to have you in my life. So... will you marry me?”

The words linger in the air, and for a moment, it feels like the world around you doesn't exist anymore. The silence stretches between you, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence; it’s one filled with love, hope, unspoken promises. You look at the ring, then his eyes, and you know this is the moment your own dreams come true.

A flood of emotions fills your chest. You can't believe what's happening. Everything inside you collapses, and tears well up in your eyes. You know there are no doubts, that this is the path you've been looking for, but still, the disbelief overwhelms you.

Finally, your voice comes out, soft as a whisper, but filled with certainty.

“Yes... of course I will,” you reply, your words full of love. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Junho smiles as if all the weight he carried on his shoulders has melted away. The smile that lights up his face is so pure, so sincere, that you feel like the world is right. He takes your hand, kisses your fingers gently, as if he wants to savor that moment, to make sure it stays etched in his memory forever.

“I promise I’ll make you the happiest person in the world,” he whispers with a tenderness that melts you.

It’s as if time has stopped, and only the two of you exist, surrounded by the calm of the night. Without saying another word, you stand up from your seat and throw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly, as if you can't bear to be separated from him. Tears begin to fall, but they’re not tears of sadness, they’re tears of happiness. You feel like everything you ever imagined is now right in front of you, as real as the air you breathe.

When you pull back a little, he takes your hand gently, as if afraid it might slip away. He places it over his chest, right where his heart beats.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling just slightly, as if the weight of his love is too much to contain.

The rest of the dinner passes in the blink of an eye. Everything else disappears, and only this moment remains, one that will change the course of your lives forever.

When you get home, the excitement still runs through your body. You both enter, and although the night is still young, you feel there’s no place in the world you'd rather be than here, with him.

He closes the door with a soft click, but his eyes never leave yours. You feel a little tremor in your chest when he takes a step toward you, and your legs weaken slightly. Nervousness and desire mix in a way that’s almost intoxicating.

Junho stops in front of you, his eyes fixed on yours, and you can see in them the promise of something more. Something more than a commitment, something deeper, something that only the two of you understand.

His hands move to your face, touching you with the softness that has always characterized him. The delicacy with which he caresses you, the way he seems to know every corner of your being, makes your whole body shudder.

“Do you know what this means?” he asks in a whisper, his voice filled with the certainty that only true love can bring.

You look at him, your eyes reflecting all the emotions you feel in this moment. You know what it means, you’ve known since the very first day, but you can’t help but let the desire, that need to be closer, to feel him more, take over you.

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely audible.

In an instant, his lips meet yours, soft at first, but quickly growing in intensity. The kiss turns into something deeper, more urgent, as if neither of you can wait another second. His hands explore your body, as if he wants to imprint every curve, every corner into his memory.

Clothes slowly fall to the floor, and the desire between you ignites like a fire that can’t be contained. Every touch of his fingers, every kiss, is a reminder of how close you are, of what you share. Everything feels perfect, natural, as if it was meant to happen at the exact moment.

"I want to feel you," Junho whispers, his voice breathless. His fingers glide over your back, over your curves, as if he had been searching for a path that leads to heaven.

"I want that too," you reply in a gasp. Each word is like a fire in your throat, as if you wanted to shout your love to the world.

"Do you want this?" he asks, his voice ragged with need. His fingers brush against your thighs, soft and calm, but with a strength that makes you realize how much he needs you.

"I want this," you reply, your eyes fixed on him. The need in your voice mingles with desire, and you can feel his entire body tense, as if they had reached a limit they could no longer surpass.

In a single movement, he positions himself between your legs. You feel the pressure in your abdomen, the need that surrounds it, the promise that soon you will be closer than ever before. His breath is ragged, and his eyes are glazed with desire.

"I adore you so much" he murmurs, his words a silent plea. "I adore you, I've always loved you".

And, as if their words were a key that opens all doors, their bodies move together, as if the rhythm that drives them were something natural, something that was always meant to be. You feel his breath in your ear, his warm breath, his hands holding you, caressing you, making you feel loved.

Everything is perfect. The tension builds up inside you, but Junho holds you firmly. His arms surround you, protect you, cradle you. Everything about him makes you feel safe, as if you know nothing can go wrong.

"You are my everything" he whispers in your ear. His words are like a massage on your insides, increasing your need. "You are my home"

Your breath quickens, and the tension builds until you can no longer bear it. A torrent of pleasure spreads through your body, and you can feel yourself floating in the air. Junho moans in your neck, his fingers grip your skin tightly, and you can feel the pressure on your thighs. His body moves a little faster, but there is nothing in it that isn't gentle and slow, as if every movement he makes is just for your pleasure.

"I'm yours" you whisper, your voice breathless and hoarse. The words slip out of your mouth without you being able to stop them, as if they were the only thing you could say at that moment. "I am yours, always".

Her breath catches for a second, her gaze locks onto you with a passion that makes you crave more. "And I will always be yours" he replies, his voice echoing your words.

In a couple of seconds, the tension between you grows once again. The desire explodes in you, in him, and you both scream at the exact moment. It's as if the connection between you is something more than physical, as if it were something that only exists between two people who were destined to be together.

Finally, when their breathing returns to normal, he collapses onto you, his head on your chest, his arms surrounding you. Calmness surrounds you again, but there is no space between you, as if you needed nothing else. The connection is so strong that you feel you could spend hours here without saying a word, simply embracing each other.

"This is just the beginning of everything I want to give you".

You snuggle closer to him, closing your eyes, feeling the outside world fade away. All that matters is him. You. Both of you.

"Me too" you say with a smile, as you sink into a dream full of promises of a future together. Always together.

#squid game #squid game smut #jun ho squid game #hwang jun ho #jun ho x reader #hwang junho #hwang jun ho smut #hwang jun ho x reader

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piastrisun · 2 months ago

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the grand reveal.

pairings: franco colapinto + actress female reader.

summary: the cameras have always loved you, but tonight, for the first time, you let them capture the truth—franco, by your side, no longer just a best friend.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 2k.⠀ warning: none.

request: franco x actress!reader at the oscars or at some premiere of a movie she's been part of? 💕

notes: inspired by mary and tanner from cobra kai because i find them so endearing. and currently considering making a smau about this story as well. thank you for the req, i hope you like it!!!

the hotel suite is bathed in the soft glow of the golden hour, the warm light filtering through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the polished floor. the city skyline stretches out beyond the glass, the world outside buzzing with anticipation for the premiere of your movie—the one that has your name on billboards, the one people have been waiting for.

inside, it’s quieter, but the air is thick with something else—excitement, nerves, maybe even a touch of nostalgia. you stand in front of a massive vanity mirror, dressed in a stunning gown, the fabric hugging your form perfectly. it’s elegant, timeless, with just the right amount of sparkle to catch the light as you move. the dress makes you feel powerful, like you belong on that carpet, like this is your night.

and yet, as much as the premiere is about you, your thoughts are fixated on the man behind you.

franco stands near the edge of the room, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. he’s already dressed—black suit, perfectly tailored, crisp white shirt underneath, a picture of effortless charm. but even as he focuses on the small details, his attention keeps drifting back to you.

you’re breathtaking. he’s seen you in a thousand different ways—barefaced in the morning, bundled up in sweats on lazy afternoons, laughing so hard you can barely breathe—but there’s something about this moment that feels different. maybe it’s the way the dress moves when you shift, or how the anticipation makes your eyes shine just a little brighter. maybe it’s the fact that tonight, for the first time, you might actually let the world see what he already knows.

his fiancée. his best friend. the love of his life.

you meet his gaze in the mirror, and a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. he’s caught staring, but he doesn’t even try to look away.

“so,” you say, breaking the silence, voice teasing as you turn slightly toward him. “i was thinking about what you said.”

franco tilts his head slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “which part exactly?” his voice has that casual tone, the one you know all too well. “i remind you that i’m good at talking.”

you smirk and glance over your shoulder. “haven’t forgotten. you’re a great talker. you just gave a whole talk about that superhero movie you watched last night.”

franco groans dramatically, moving to lean against the vanity beside you. “oh, come on! it was a great movie. maybe the plot was predictable and the effects were… questionable, but it was still good.”

you arch an eyebrow, your expression skeptical. “really? you think it was good?”

he huffs and crosses his arms. “okay, fine. it was barely decent. happy now?”

you laugh, the sound light and easy, shaking your head as you take a seat in the makeup chair. the artist starts working on the final touches, but your attention remains on franco as he watches you, eyes filled with something unreadable.

“so, getting back to it,” you continue, your voice softer now, more serious. “i was considering we could walk the red carpet together. properly this time. you said it would be fun.”

he stills for a moment, caught off guard by the suggestion. you see his throat bob as he swallows. you don’t usually hesitate to bring things up with him, but this is different. this isn’t just another premiere where he’s there as your best friend, the way people have always assumed. this would mean something else. this would mean stepping into the spotlight together, not as longtime friends, but as the couple you’ve been behind closed doors for the last three years.

his brows knit slightly as he watches you through the mirror, but you don’t let the pause deter you.

“we’ve been together for a while now,” you say, eyes focused on the buttons, your voice steady. “and we’ve been discreet about it. or at least, we’ve tried.”

he takes a step closer, eyes narrowing in thought. “but… that way, people would actually know we’re together, right?” his voice lowers, lacing with a thoughtful tone. “we don’t have to do this, you know. i was just messing around.”

you turn your head slightly, catching his eyes through the mirror again, your tone soft but certain. “i know that. but… it must be nice, though, to have people know we’re a couple. a very much in-love one.”

franco watches you carefully, his jaw tensing just slightly. he’s always been protective of your privacy, of keeping your love out of the chaos of the public eye, but there’s something in the way you say it that makes his heart stutter.

“are you sure?” he asks, and there’s something vulnerable in the way he says it.

you smirk, tilting your head. “what? getting scared now, colapinto?”

“no, no,” he says quickly, his voice slightly more urgent now, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “i want this. i want people to know we’re together, that i love you. i just… i just want you to be sure about it.”

you feel your heart swell at his words, your gaze softening as you meet his eyes. “i’m sure,” you say, and the conviction in your voice is clear. “i want this. i want everyone to know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

his lips part slightly, as if your words take him by surprise. then, slowly, he reaches for your hand, his fingers grazing the ring he gave you. the diamond catches the light, subtle yet undeniable.

“so what?” he teases, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “you’re gonna show off that ring i got you?”

you smile, your hand instinctively touching the ring, its simple elegance, the diamond catching the light. you shrug lightly, your eyes mischievous. “maybe.”

franco laughs softly, the sound of it filling the space between you. “is that so?”

you nod, a wink in your eye. “why not? let’s tell the world.”

for a moment, he just looks at you—really looks at you, as if he’s memorising every detail of this moment. and then, he exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head in that way he does when he’s completely, hopelessly in love.

he steps closer, hands resting on either side of your arms, his touch light but grounding. “then let’s do it,” he murmurs, voice just for you. “let the world see how much i love you.”

your heart flutters, a slow, warm smile spreading across your face. the final touches of your makeup are done, and as you stand, your heels clicking against the floor, you turn to face him fully.

reaching out, you adjust his tie slightly before smoothing your hands over his lapels. he watches you the whole time, his eyes filled with something indescribable.

with a playful tilt of your head, you extend your hand. “shall we go make our debut?”

franco grins, taking your hand in his, squeezing it just slightly. “let’s show them. together.”

and as you step out of the hotel suite, hand in hand, it’s no longer just another premiere. it’s the start of something new. something real. and for the first time, you’re ready for it.

the air outside the hotel is electric. the streets are lined with fans, their voices blending into a constant hum of excitement, the flashing of cameras already starting before you’ve even stepped onto the carpet.

as soon as you step onto the red carpet, the world erupts around you. the photographers call out, their voices overlapping in a chorus of eager requests. the evening arrives, and you stand at the entrance of the venue, the red carpet stretching out before you like an endless sea of flashing lights and eager faces. the sound of photographers shouting, “over here!” “please, a smile, miss!” fills the air as you step onto the carpet, your heart racing despite all the experience you’ve accumulated over the years.

the flashing lights are blinding, but you navigate through them with practiced ease. even after years in the spotlight, it still makes your pulse race. you’ve done this before, so many times, but somehow, the attention always makes your cheeks warm. not out of discomfort—just a lingering sense of disbelief that this is your life now, that people care this much about a movie you’ve poured your heart into.

still, you smile, giving the photographers what they want, offering small waves and graceful nods. you make your way down the carpet, pausing at the right moments, your dress shimmering under the flashing lights. you hear the way the photographers compliment you between their calls—little things like, “stunning as always!” and “you look incredible tonight!”—and despite yourself, your face heats up. you can’t help it.

as you walk down the carpet, your eyes seek out franco. he’s standing a few steps behind, looking as handsome as ever, watching you with something soft in his expression. he’s been in this position before, always lingering nearby, the best friend at your side. but tonight, it’s different.

his eyes meet yours, and a wave of comfort washes over you. this is your moment to share with him, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the idea of walking this path, not as “just friends” but as a couple.

you gesture toward him, the subtle motion barely noticeable to the crowd but clear to him. his expression shifts from calm to a soft grin as he picks up the pace, closing the gap between you two. you meet him halfway, your hand reaching out for his as he steps to your side. the cameras react instantly, the shutters clicking even faster, a fresh wave of voices calling out.

“franco! look this way!”

“side by side, please!”

“one with the two of you together!”

franco leans in slightly, his arm instinctively wraps an arm around your waist. the photographers shouting for more smiles, more affection, their flashes still blinding in their intensity.

you look up at him, your voice soft, but still carrying a playful edge. “you ready?”

franco lets out a small laugh, his eyes gleaming with affection as he glances at you, his hand tightening around yours. “yeah, as ready as i could be.”

and then, with deliberate ease, you lift your left hand—the one with the engagement ring. the one the world has never seen before.

the cameras catch it instantly. the flashing intensifies, and a fresh wave of excitement ripples through the photographers.

“wait—is that—?”

“miss! the ring!”

“are you engaged?!”

you don’t say anything—not yet. you just smile, subtly adjusting your fingers so the diamond catches the light, making sure there’s no mistaking it. beside you, franco chuckles under his breath, barely containing his amusement at how effortlessly you’ve just dropped this revelation on the world.

“well,” he murmurs, voice full of teasing warmth, “i guess that’s one way to tell them.”

you glance up at him, eyes dancing. “go big or go home, right?”

he laughs, his grip around your waist tightening just slightly in silent affection. “remind me never to underestimate you.”

and as the noise around you swells—the shouts, the cameras, the realisation spreading like wildfire—you know there’s no turning back now. the world knows.

and you couldn’t be happier.

you smile, a mix of joy and nervousness bubbling in your chest as the weight of the moment settles in. it’s not just a simple red carpet stroll anymore. you and franco are no longer hiding in plain sight. this is you, standing proudly together, side by side, sharing your love with the world.

franco leans closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “so, what now? more pictures?”

you laugh, the sound light and free, as you glance back at him with a playful grin. “now we own the spotlight, i think.” you squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of everything—the love, the excitement, the fact that this is no longer a secret.

BONUS: SMAU!

#piastrisun: work #piastrisun: one shot #piastrisun: requests #franco colapinto x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto fic

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