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mercy-burning · 22 days ago

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Backseat Benefits

"You are the sun and I am the moon; What light you see in me is merely yours, reflected across the length of night" --William C. Hannah

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: On your way home one night, Spencer innocently wonders aloud about the benefits of a car's backseat. You aim to show him what they might be. Category: Smut (18+), Fluff Content: Making out, Heavy petting, blowjob, vaginal fingering/oral, good ol' fashioned car foolin' around. Baby Spencer is low-key insecure but fighting through it Word Count: 3.1k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Yeah, so what Spencer wonders about backseats is the thought I had while loading in my groceries this morning LMAOO, and then Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae came on shuffle when I got in, and I started this in the Walmart parking lot. Therefore this is not proofread. I briefly skimmed after I finished, but that's IT. Enjoy!

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You like to think you know Spencer pretty well; Two years of being friends and two more of a relationship under your belts has more than proven your mutual knowing and loving and understanding of each other.

Still, he manages to find ways to surprise you every day without even trying.

Tonight, you're on your way back to his apartment from seeing a movie a few towns over. The moon flashes in and out of view as tall, full trees whip past you in the night. You think Spencer might be staring, craning his head and trying to focus on the moonlight, but eventually you notice his eyes are trained on the rear view mirror.

"Something on your mind, Sunshine?"

His nose crinkles affectionately at the pet name you've coined for him. While you're sure there are more poetic ways to describe his aura and the way he makes you feel, there wasn't a better word in the moment you could have come up with to fully encapsulate his warmth. He was pure sunshine incarnate, and so the first week you'd known each other, it became clear that there was no other option. The nickname slipped past your lips without a second thought, he looked panicked and flushed for a moment before bumbling through his response, and it stuck.

The memory of it makes you smile as he answers you.

"I was just thinking... A large percentage of vehicles have backseats, but I wonder how many of them actually get used... I mean, sure, children basically only know the backseat, and families and friend groups will spend time there... But if you're the owner of a vehicle, chances are you haven't sat in your backseat. And after all, why would you? But it makes you wonder, how many vehicle owners are truly familiar with the backseat of their car?"

The momentary silence between you feels almost comical, but you're only trying to process. Is it a truly curious statement, or...

"Are you asking if I'm familiar with my backseat?"

The suggestive implication in your tone completely goes over his head, answering your question. "Well, no, that wasn't my intention, but... Are you?"

"Kinda," you answer truthfully. "I mean, I've loaded groceries into the backseat, and I've... Spent some time back there."

Spencer looks to you and raises an eyebrow, genuinely curious and asking for elaboration. It hadn't clicked yet.

Another silence falls between you for a while before he understands, his features contorting with realization and then embarrassment. "Oh..."

You can't help but laugh. "I mean, it's been a while, but... Yeah."

"I mean, I suppose it is a cliche for young lovers to hook up in the back of a car... But I didn't even think about it..."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, this car has only seen one rendezvous in my lifetime with it, and it has been heavily sanitized since then. So if you're curious about the backseat of my car, you're welcome to sit back there anytime you like."

He groans, scrunching his nose again, only less affectionately and in that way you've come to recognize as embarrassment. "I'm sorry. That was an odd conversation."

"Hey. I'm serious. Don't you ever apologize for being curious, especially not around me, alright?"

"Yeah, alright."

You can tell he's just trying to move on but that he doesn't actually believe you, and it breaks your heart a little—another thing that's surprised you tonight. After all your years as friends, his inability to recognize precisely how much you adore literally every facet of him never seems to go away. It's gotten better over the years, but on occasion, like now, he fails to believe that someone like you could truly love someone like him. His sunshine slowly starts to disappear behind a little cloud, and though it doesn't happen for very long, each time it does, it makes you want to curse the world and whatever forces have sprung him with storms of sorrow.

And it's happening now.

You make a quick decision to pull over, and he looks over at you quizzically as the car comes to a complete stop.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, concerned more for you than himself.

"No. You put the thought in my brain, and now I just wanna sit in my backseat and see what's going on back there."

Spencer's eyes drop. "You don't have to do that..."

Instead of responding, you unbuckle your seatbelt and leave the car running, opening the door. "C'mon."

He tries to stop you, but you climb out away from his hand and close the door behind you, bracing yourself against the gentle summer wind. And now the thought really is running rampant in your head; You'd never thought about it before, but merely opening the back door feels different in your hand than when you open the driver's door. You don't know if it's just a trick of the mind—a product of the task at hand—or if there's any technical difference in the way back and front car doors are designed.

When you finally sit down in the backseat, you're about to tell Spencer about your thoughts on it only to find out that he's gone, but only for a few seconds. He climbs in beside you, his hair astray from the wind.

You smile. "Welcome to the backseat, Sunshine. Take off your jacket, stay a while."

Your words have managed to make him laugh. A small victory— a beam of light protruding from his little cloud.

"It's roomy back here," he muses, looking around, his smile still lingering.

"It's like a whole new world."

Spencer laughs again, and then you follow, and before you know it, the both of you have fallen into a small cyclone of laughter that parts the clouds and lifts the mood entirely.

"I love you," he says at last, scooting in closer to you, your legs touching now.

You reach your hand out to grab his, bringing it to rest on your chest, right where your heart sits beneath flesh and bone. "I love you, too, Sunshine. Don't you ever forget it."

Your faces have drifted closer now, noses nestling against one another as one more silence befalls you. Only this time, the thing forming in the midst is a different kind of storm. Electric, gravitating, and warm.

His lips find yours with ease, and what a gentle endeavor it is; A small gesture of gratitude and adoration that makes your heart flutter like it had the first time you kissed him. Your hand tightens over his, a squeeze of affection that lets him know you're embracing his warmth, and that you can only hope to return it to him in full.

When your lips part against his, however, something shifts in his gentleness. It firms and grows bold, pressing into you with a desperation that isn't necessarily surprising, but igniting.

You admittedly never pictured yourself making out with Spencer Reid in the backseat of your car, but now that it's happening, the low hum of the air conditioning rumbling through the space between you and the wind rustling outside, you fully embrace the pang of need that takes hold in your body and spreads to every limb.

Wandering hands, curious tongues, and saccharine sighs become your whole world for what feels like hours. Cars occasionally whoosh by, but you pay them no mind, too entirely wrapped up in your boyfriend and the way he's loving you to even consider them. Though, the thought of two government employees being caught for public indecency briefly crosses your mind and makes you huff a laugh into Spencer's mouth.

He breaks apart. "What is it?"

You kiss him again, humming mischievously into him. "Ohhh, you know."

Another kiss, slow and deliberate...

"Just thinking."

Your kisses travel along his jaw, and then his neck. His pulse under your lips is a thrill in its own right, a tangible reminder of the life he so beautifully offers you.

"About the benefits of having an unexplored backseat."

You feel his whole body sigh as your hands untuck his shirt from the band of his pants.

Then he laughs, the sound strained and desperate, and you want to bottle it up and keep it forever. "I thought you've already... explored this backseat."

In another life you would have laughed back, but there is absolutely nothing funny about the way you want him right now. Your body is on fire, screaming at you, begging to please him and feel the weight of him in your mouth, aching for the sounds that slip past his pretty, pouty lips.

Fuck.

"I want to explore it with you," you nearly whine, unbuckling his belt and licking at his collarbone. "God, Spencer, I want you so bad..."

You're not entirely sure what sound escapes him then, but once again he sounds desperate and unbelieving as your hand dips into his pants and palms him over the gray boxers you watched him put on this morning.

It spurs you forward, his desperation feeding your own, and your hand tightens around the length of him, feeling how hard and aching he is.

"Mmm, you want it too, don't you?" you moan into his chest, sinking yourself lower and lower, crawling down his body until your crouched half on the floor of the car.

Spencer swallows hard and tries to control his breathing. "Always want you..."

You grin, satisfied with his state. A man of many words, reduced to half-sentences and mindless whines of want at your mercy. Your sweet, bright boy is putty in your hands, and it's utterly intoxicating.

He manages to lift his hips enough for you to wrestle with his pants and move them down enough so you can slip his cock out of his boxers. Once it's out, firm in your hand and glistening with need, he sits back down and throws his head back.

The sound of your name falls short on his lips the second you put your mouth on him, like he's stopped thinking all together. His world stops, frozen in time as your lips wrap perfectly around him and sink down slowly. Your tongue lays flat under him, firm and wet and warm, and only when he hits the back of your throat does he let out a sound.

You hold yourself there as long as you can, gagging around him briefly before lifting your head and coming off of him with a pop of your lips. A trail of spit comes with them, which you use to help your hand glide smoothly up and down his shaft as you look up at him.

He's watching you work with disbelief, and you're about to say something about it when he surprises you yet again.

"A-Aren't you... uncomfortable? Crouched down like that?"

"Maybe a little," you tell him, squeezing his cock and working the tip in your fist. His eyes squeeze shut, trying to restrain himself from feeling pleasure when you're down here, contorted with uncomfortable limbs. "But that's the whole point, I suppose..."

"I don't follow," he breathes, a whimper chasing after his words when you lean down and press an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock.

"When you're young and in love... Hooking up in the backseat... Desperate and passionate for someone..." Your tongue comes out and teases under the tip before you continue, his eyes straining to keep open as he writhes underneath you. "If it means finding a little thrill with the one you love... What's a little discomfort?"

You take him fully in your mouth again, bobbing your head up and down when you see him finally submit to it— the pleasure, the thrill...

Spencer moans, loud, the sound vibrating through you and settling deep in your core. You squeeze your legs together grind your hips into the cramped air, seeking friction in nothing but the fabric clinging to your thighs. Quite literally the living breathing definition of hot and bothered, you can't help but slack your jaw and drool on his cock, reveling in the way it glides over your tongue and repeatedly hits the back of your throat.

"I—I can't... I'm gon—na—"

You moan your approval around the length of him, reaching up to hold Spencer's hand as he twitches and writhes in your mouth. With a final squeeze of his hand, he cries out and lets go. You swallow as much as you can, but with the small space and limited room for precision, it gets messier than you figure he'd enjoy. Still, he sighs blissfully as his load lightens, and when he's orgasmed out, you make quick work of cleaning him up.

He watches you in reverence, softly whimpering at every slow stroke of your tongue as it cleans him. You take your time, leaving no inch of him untouched, uncared for...

Your cunt is practically throbbing by the time you come back up, the sensation only intensifying when Spencer pulls you into him immediately. His lips move over yours wildly, a languid labor of love that isn't laborious at all. In fact, he kisses you like he's been doing it his whole life, with no hesitation or question, and with every ounce of enthusiasm one could possibly carry.

Sunshine radiates through his fingertips, hot and enveloping as they slip under your shirt and against the skin of your lower back. You climb over him instinctively, straddling his lap and kissing him back with that same desperation that had infiltrated his kisses earlier.

He's tired from coming, you can tell, but his love for you doesn't waver— it urges him forward, carries his hand down to the front of your pants, and offers the same relief you'd gifted him.

"Please, baby, I need your fingers in me," you whine into his mouth, helping him unbutton and loosen your pants.

"Anything you want," he responds in earnest, finally getting into a comfortable enough position to slip past your underwear and touch you where you want him the most.

He kisses you through a whine, gliding through your cunt with ease.

"Mmm that's what you do to me, Sunshine," you tell him, grinding into his hand. "You make me feel so good."

His middle finger is precise, circling your clit as you try not to fall over on him. Your pants hanging around your thighs make it hard to give him more than restrictive access, but as you told him before, it's all part of the experience.

It certainly adds to your desperation, your kisses becoming urgent and sloppy, and then he manages to slip a finger inside. The fullness isn't stimulating enough to get you off necessarily, but it's welcome and hot all the same. You help him out, softly lifting and dropping your hips to meet his rhythm, and then you reach down to frantically rub your clit.

"Fuck it," he finally breathes, pulling away from you and shifting his weight. "Can you lay down?"

The two of you shift and struggle to position yourselves more comfortably, another fit of laughter tangling between you as you attempt it. Eventually, Spencer is able to remove your shoes and slide your pants down over your ankles, and then he's throwing your leg over his shoulder and bending down.

Even though you have more room, the car suddenly feels cramped, sweat gathering on your body and your muscles cramping from contorting so oddly just minutes before. And now, with your boyfriend's mouth and fingers working in tandem to get you off, you're exerting yourself even more.

It doesn't take very long to approach your orgasm, the evening's built-up tension finally coming to a head.

It also helps that Spencer knows what he's doing— That had been another surprise at the start of your relationship. He was so shy and awkward and prone to bumbling when it came to dating you at first, that the first time you had sex with him, you weren't expecting to be so exhausted that you'd slept straight through three alarms.

His tongue flicks over your clit with rapid, even strokes, meanwhile his fingers accompany them with long and meticulous accuracy that makes for the perfect orgasm. It builds and builds, until your head thumps back and hits the hard plastic of the inside of the door. You laugh through it, your body shuddering under Spencer's care, and you can feel him laughing, too.

As you come down, your body relaxing, he helps you sit up. "Are you okay?"

You can help but giggle, taking his face in your hands and kissing him firmly. "Absolutely. It's all part of the backseat charm."

He considers this with a grin that makes you weak. With one simple smile you've fallen in love with your Sunshine boy all over again. "After all, they say nothing worthwhile comes easy..."

"Mmm..."

He helps you put your pants and shoes back on, then tucks himself back into his own pants and fixes his shirt. And in comfortable, loving silence that needs nothing to fill the gaps, the two of you make your way back to the front of the car, ready to journey home.

The moon sits higher in the sky, not as disguised by the trees, and you look up at it and think about what Spencer said, not pulling the car out of park just yet.

"I don't think it's true," you say, prompting him to tilt his head.

"What's that?"

"That nothing worthwhile comes easy. I don't think it's true at all. Do you know why?"

Again, he ponders, not with a grin but with thoughtful eyes and the pout he pulls when he's considering but coming up empty handed. He shakes his head. "Why?"

"Because I love you. It's the most worthwhile thing I've ever done, and it's not difficult in the slightest."

His brown eyes, impossibly big and always brimming with wonder, have started to also brim with tears. They don't fall—they only well and glimmer in the wake of your words, until he blinks and forces them out.

Your hand reaches for his and he squeezes.

"I love you, too. More than you will ever even begin to comprehend." His voice breaks and puts itself back together through each syllable, and in doing so, chips away any sort of belief that he may not truly be lovable. Day by day, moment by moment, you continue to prove to him just how bright and deserving and inherently good he is.

A direct reflection of the two of you suddenly embalms the car— his bright smile that radiates like sunbeams and the glow of moonlight through the windshield that reminds him of your opaline heart.

Spencer lifts your hand to his lips, and in that moment, you vow to yourself that for the rest of your life, you will do everything to keep the clouds away.

And silently, in the gentle press of his lips to the palm of your hand, he vows the very same.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #mercy after hours #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader smut

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prlssprfctn · 2 months ago

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I think Jason should be allowed to manipulate his family with the "oh, you are my favourite, actually" line. It sounds very flattering to them (because Jason? Jason-I-Want-Nothing-To-Do-With-This-Family-Todd? Admitting you are his favourite? Oh, the hundred per cent bust of ego!) and more to say, this system of manipulation is eternal.

They can argue with each other as much as they want, but none of them would believe the other — Jason Todd is too tsundere to say something like this aloud, to each of them. So, someone is lying. For sure.

(And they are too self-assured in themselves to doubt that they are his favourite. Also, Jason makes every manipulation, specifically individual. So, it is not like he repeats the same confession and reasons. Very believable. Aka: this family needs someone to be open about their love, so they latch on everything and everyone who is willing to admit that openly)

Dick, slightly frustrated: Why are you asking me this favour? You know, I don't usually do these sort of things, I don't really... I don't know, it is too dangerous, I don't like the whole idea.

Jason, face dropping: Oh... Sorry. I shouldn't ask you, just... Dunno, I thought since you are my only big brother, and... Urgh, I guess I am still too attached to you more than to others. You are right. I'll ask Timbers or—

Dick, with his eyes suspiciously wet: oh-

Dick: NO, no. I'll do it. Don't worry. Big brother got your back, Lil Wing!

Tim, frowning: So, am I getting this right — you want me to hack into some system in someone's high school to fix the diploma of a kid who got a ONE bad grade—

Jason: He needs this scholarship. He is a kid of the streets! He can't do it otherwise, and it is not like the world would collapse if you fix one grade!

Tim: Yeah, I don't care about morals, I am just confused. Why would I want to spend my time on this, I am pretty sure—

Jason, dead ass serious: You know I don't like to communicate with this family. I only ever love talking with you, so sue me for thinking you could do me a favour.

Tim, instantly smirking: Ah, so I am your favourite... Well-well, big brother, I guess I can do this.

Damian: I am *not* going to tell you what our father is planning to do with this specific villain. Who do you think I am? An idiot?

Jason, sighing: Damn, and I really thought we had each other's back since League of Assassins.

Damian, scoffing: Emotional manipulation will not work on me.

Jason, all confused: Why would I manipulate you? From all people? I didn't raise you to fall on shit like this.

Damian: Tt.

Damian: Fine. Since, I guess, I owe you for babysitting me...

Bruce: Jason, I appreciate your... strive to help me, but nothing has ever gone well when you worked on cases like that. Let me handle this, and—

Jason, silently sitting down on the armchair, hands on his head: (sniff)

Bruce, panicked: Jaylad?..

Jason: I get it. I really do. No matter how much I love you, no matter how much I keep choosing you over anyone in this family, you don't love me anymore. I really understand it. I... I came in peace with it. I just wished you would tolerate my work... a little bit. You know?

Bruce: No, no, sweetheart, I— I am your favourite?

Jason, sniffling angrily: Who else it could be, old man?

Bruce: Oh. Oh, Jaylad— (instantly hands him the case)

(The family dinner)

Bruce, mentally humming to himself: Oh, these kids have NO idea that I am Jason's favourite because we are connected like that ^•^

Dick, mentally beaming: Oh, no one here has an idea that I am Jason's favourite because I am his big brother and protector! :>

Tim, mentally laughing evilly: Oh, these flops have no idea that I am Jason's favourite and that he wishes I was his Robin!

Damian, mentally kicking his feet: None of my family members suspect that I am Akhi's favourite because he was practically my nanny through all childhood. Tt.

Jason, munching on food: Lol

#Alfred: poor bastards have no idea that I am a real favourite #jason todd #red hood #dcu comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #bruce wayne #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Stoic

When Gojo assumes Nanami Kento's lack of PDA for the reader shows a lack of desire for her, a tipsy Kento is quick to correct him.

Warnings: 18+ drabble, Kento goes on a smutty rant

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'A quick drink' after work had soon turned into two, three, four. Shoko took full advantage of the rooftop bar's balcony, smoking and idly chatting; Higuruma and Atsuya gossipped and quipped, snorting into their drinks; Satoru observed Kento and you keenly behind his dark lens; you stood, excusing yourself to the bathroom as Kento gave you a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry," Satoru interrupted loudly when you were gone, his pot boiling over, "I just-- I just don't get it, Nanami." All eyes were on Satoru and Kento now-- Kento, with one thin eyebrow raised in quiet disdain at Satoru, and Satoru, with his elbows planted forward on his knees in challenge.

A few moments of silence. Kento huffed, "Should I be apologising for someth--"

"--you've been together for years," Satoru interrupted, "and I'm just not convinced. She could be-- she could be a coat rack for all the affection you show her, you're supposed to not be able to keep your hands off her--"

"--you want me to grope my fiancée in public, am I correct--"

"--well maybe, anything to show that you love her--"

Kento laughed out loud, deep and humourless, continuing to chuckle into his glass, scoffing to himself; "Love her," he rumbled, swirling his whiskey, amber eyes flickering and carnal in the firelight.

Shoko had turned, smirking, to watch the scene. Atsuya leaned back, scowling, chewing on a toothpick with crossed arms. Hiromi leaned, glimmer-eyed, into the drama, one hand cupping his jaw and the other clasping his wineglass. He picked up the bottle, slowly beginning to pour another glass.

"I don't love her," Kento spat, downing his glass of whiskey in one smooth swallow, hissing and slamming the glass down on the table, "I worship her. I'm obsessed with her."

Satoru was silent, mulish, as Kento continued.

"I would walk through rains of bullets for her," he mused aloud, "I would cut off fingers with blunt knives--"

"Nanami, alright, I'm sorry--"

"Any second I'm not with her," Kento continued, his voice quieter, darker, the group leaning into him, "is a second wasted. I don't know what point there was in the years I spent without her-- probably just there to build me into even a semblance of the man she deserves--"

"--why are we doing this--"

"-- and when I'm not thinking about talking to her, watching her, being near her, holding her, or-- fuck, just having her look at me goes bone-deep...I spend at least eighty-percent of my time thinking about different ways to make her cum--"

Satoru was blushing now, his face in his hands, while the others leaned into Kento's mild breakdown with awe, "--fucking hell Nanami, I didn't mean--"

"I almost died last week, at work," Kento mused, as a laughing Hiromi slid the glass of wine down the table to Kento, which he caught seamlessly, "because I was too busy thinking about how her mouth had felt around my cock the night before, because I was pondering the many applications for my tie, because I was thinking about how incredible she felt underneath me--"

Atsuya and Shoko whispered together, Hiromi now giggling to himself unashamedly; "Oh he's really going for it--" "I know I know, shhh, let him finish--"

"--and I've been sat here with her all evening, resisting the urge to strip her, tie her wrists together and have her ride me until I go fucking blind, all because of social-fucking-propriety, just for some long streak of jizz like you to say I clearly don't love her--"

Satoru had shrunk in on himself now, his soul quietly leaving his body, mortified and put to rights as Kento tsked, swirling his wine before downing that, too. He accepted the bottle Hiromi slid towards him in approval.

"...it really just is rather rude and presumptuous of you, isn't it, Gojo?"

The group sat in stunned silence as you returned, sitting beside Kento and laying a hand on his crossed knees. You felt the bizarre tension; Hiromi unable to conceal a blush as he looked at you, Shoko giving you a knowing smile around her cigarette, Atsuya unable to make eye contact. You smiled uncertainly.

"...what did I miss?"

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Still waters run deep 💀💀💀

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luvismenu · 7 months ago

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their first time fucking —

⋆˚࿔ fuckboy!jungkook 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ extra ࣪ ִֶָ☾. written, nsfw

series m.list

♡ — permanent taglist: @https-mei @blaricee @blluee28 @jkvias @jksctrl @ari420sstuff @wnteraezz @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi @ririkookiemonster @svtrighthereworld @jmscaffeine @trinityxsope @taetaecatboy @butnotmontana @joyofbebbanburg @elinaki92 @sweetmimosa28

“are you sure about this?”

“yes, like i said, go slo— i told you to go slow jungkook!”

“oh fuck-”

“you ruined it!!!” you exclaim as you watch jungkook lose a game that the two of you have been playing for the last 30 minutes. well, he's the one playing and you're kind of.. helping.

you wanted to play, but he insisted he wanted to play alone because you're a 'nerd' and couldn't play as well as he could—which earned him a smack on the head from you.

“i told you, you have to wait until the monster appears,” you huff, and he slumps back into the couch.

“okay, expert, whatever,” he shrugs.

“yeah, whatever,” you roll your eyes.

jungkook relaxes into the couch, his head thrown back as he groans, “where is this mother fu—”

ding!

“i think you got a text,” you say, glancing at his phone on the small table beside the couch.

“oh, you think so?” he mocks, and you glare him.

hoseok invited you for your usual study session. normally, you both would go to the library or the café he likes, which you didn't mind. today, though, he said he wanted to study at his frat house because it would just be the two of you.

and you couldn't miss a chance like that now would you?

but when you arrived, hoseok was nowhere to be found, and it was jungkook who let you in.

what a fun way to find out that all the fuckboys live in the same house.

jungkook told you that the other members were out doing what they usually do—things you'd rather not know about.

and now, you're just waiting for hoseok to come back.

“oh... okay,” jungkook says aloud as he sets his phone aside, turning to you.

“was it him? is he coming?” you ask.

“nah, he's getting wasted with the others, probably won't be back until.. i don't know, early morning i guess?” jungkook replies, “oh and i told him you were here. he said he's sorry that he forgot and told me to tell you to go home safe.”

you sulk at his words.

he notices.

“he... forgot?” you ask, your voice dropping.

“that's what he said. if you don't believe me, you can take my phone and see his texts.”

“no, no, i mean...” you sigh. “uh sorry, i should get going then.”

you stand up, grabbing your bag. but before you can take a step forward, jungkook speaks up.

“we can play another game if you want.”

you look at him. he holds up his controller, placing the second one beside him.

“together.”

“i am tired,” he groans, throwing the controller onto the couch as he walks toward the kitchen and you follow him.

“for a fuckboy, you have less stamina,” you joke.

“i was studying the whole day—”

you raise a brow.

“i know, yeah me, studying?? woah, impossible!!” he mocks himself, then continues more seriously, “trust me, i study.”

he grabs a can of beer from the fridge and closes it. “sometimes.”

you can't help but scoff a laugh.

“you don't have to explain yourself,” you say, crossing your arms as he takes a sip of the beer before responding.

“i know, but it's you i’m talking to, so—”

“what do you mean, me?”

he tilts his head. “aren't we friends?”

“yeah?”

he smiles. “then i gotta prove that i’m not as bad as you think i am.”

“i don't—”

“you do.”

you think for a second and sigh. “i do.”

that makes both of you chuckle.

“i think i should go now, it's getting late,” you tell jungkook, glancing at the clock on the wall. you walk toward the door, and he follows you.

“thank you for the ice cream,” you say, referring to the treat you had a few minutes ago.

“it's okay, it wasn't mine anyway,” he shrugs, and you gasp.

“what the fuck, why did you let me eat it then?”

“relax! it’s hoseok's. he wouldn't mind since he literally ditched you tonight,” he says, then realizes how it sounds as he sees the change in your expression. “i didn't mean—”

“no, it's okay. he did kind of ditch me, but it doesn't really matter. i can meet him some other time.” you smile, trying to ease the awkwardness.

you're kinda rethinking about getting fucked by him anyway.

“right...” he trails off.

you both stand there for a moment, the silence stretching between you before he breaks it.

“so, i guess i'll text— mmph.” and you do it again. you cut him off just like when you first met him, but this time, the kiss lasts longer.

“w-wait,” he breathes out as he pulls back, staring at you. “you wanna fuck?”

“well, i don't know—”

“why did you kiss me then?” he asks

you look at him. why did you kiss him?

because hoseok isn't available? no.

because you're desperate? ... you're not sure.

“i don't know…” you finally say.

he opens his mouth to say something but stops.

“i just wanted to,” you add, and he's visibly surprised.

“is that wrong?” you continue, your eyes searching his.

jungkook's gaze softens. “no,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his voice barely a whisper. “but you don't like fuckboys and also we're friends—”

“yes, but tonight's different.” you say, reaching out to tug him back towards you, “you know, like a one time thing.”

he raises an eyebrow, his voice uncertain. “so, you wanna fuck and then wake up tomorrow like nothing happened? like we didn't do anything?”

you roll your eyes. “if you keep talking, we really won't do anything.”

“okay then final question, answer this with a yes or no” he says, his tone teasingly demanding, almost childish, and it makes you scoff a laugh.

“what?”

he smirks.

“wanna fuck?”

you smirk back.

“yes.”

───────── the wall ─────────

“o-oh fuck, jungkook, yes!” you moan out, your fingers tangled in his hair. his head is buried between your thighs, which are wrapped tightly around his neck. your hips are lifted, your back pressed against the wall as he stays on his knees.

he's been tongue-fucking you for a few minutes now, and you can feel yourself reaching the edge.

“mm, you taste so sweet.” he laps at your clit, sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth before releasing it with a pop. “i could eat this pretty cunt all day long.”

without warning, you cum on his mouth, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure course through you.

he swallows it all, his tongue still working on your sensitive pussy, making you squirm and whimper from the overstimulation.

slowly, he stands up as lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. he keeps you pressed against the wall, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he looks at you as you're gasping for air, that cocky grin forming on his lips.

“you want me forreal.”

“are you kidding me? right now?” you can't believe he's saying that after you just came so hard. but maybe it’s because of the orgasm, because instead of getting annoyed, you find yourself laughing a little.

“you came so much so i—” you cut him off with a kiss, your lips crashing onto his as you taste yourself, sucking on his tongue to shut him up.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours.

“what's next, darling?”

───────── the floor ─────────

“t-that tickles,” you giggle when you feel jungkook softly rubbing your waist while his tongue laps at your right nipple.

“my tongue?” he asks, his eyes looking up at you as he moves to kiss your left nipple. you're both sprawled on the floor, his hands moving up and down your body as he hovers over you.

“your hands,” you gasp softly, taking in the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

“mmh,” he hums as his hands slide up, grabbing both of your breasts, squeezing them gently. you arch your back slightly when he squeezes them together, and he buries his face between them, licking and nipping at the soft flesh.

“can i suck your dick?” you say quickly, almost before thinking, and it makes jungkook pull back, looking at you in surprise. he clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“you wanna?” he asks, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“why do you look so surprised? never got your dick sucked before?” you joke, a grin forming on your lips as you see the stunned look on his face.

he rolls his eyes at you, his lips curving into a smirk. it's funny because it's usually you who’s rolling your eyes at him.

“just making sure,”

───────── the couch ─────────

“y-you're doing so good, f-fuck,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you choke and drool on his cock. you're on your knees, gripping his thighs while he sits naked on the couch, his cock in your mouth.

his head falls back as he moans, and he bucks his hips up just slightly, pushing deeper into your throat.

he fucking loves this.

“mmfph-” you let out a muffled sound as your eyes start to water. he looks down at you, taking in the sight of you on your knees for him, your lips stretched around his length. reaching out, he wipes away a tear, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek, his touch oddly tender given the situation.

“that's it, darling. you're being such a good girl,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath but enough for you to hear. “sucking my cock and looking at me like that... you look so fucking pretty.”

you pull back just slightly, taking a quick breath before diving right back in. your head bobs up and down, your tongue gliding along the underside of his cock, taking him as deep as you can. each time you do, he lets out a low groan, his abs tightening.

“oh fuck, i'm close,” he grunts, his grip on your hair loosening and you pull back.

“can i-” he starts to ask, but you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and he curses under his breath.

he strokes himself a few times, his breath hitching, and then he releases, hot ropes of cum spilling onto your tongue. you keep your mouth open, letting him see before swallowing it all, licking him clean until there's nothing left. once you're done, you pull away, giving him a proud smile.

he chuckles, shaking his head slightly, clearly amused by your behavior.

“you're not what i expected,”

───────── bed ─────────

“did you fuck anyone here before?” you ask as you look at jungkook between your legs. your thighs are wrapped around his waist, and your back pressed against the softness of his bed.

“no,” he says simply as he reaches over to grab a condom. “i don't bring girls here.”

“why not?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“because i'm never alone,” he explains, tearing the packet open with ease.

“but we're alone right now,” you point out, watching every one of his movements.

“i was supposed to go out with hoseok and the others, but i was tired, remember? so i stayed in. and honestly, i'm glad i did that.” he rolls the condom onto his length.

you smack his shoulder playfully, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“now, are you really sure about this?” he asks, his hands gently gripping your hips, holding you steady.

“for the tenth time, yes, i am,” you respond, “like i said, it’s a one-time thing,” you remind him.

he gives a small nod, then grabs his cock, rubbing the tip along your wet folds, making you whimper at the feeling.

“just fucking put it in,” you breathe out,

he grins, leaning down just a bit closer. “say please, darling,”

“if you think i’m gonna beg for it, think again,” you say, your eyes narrowing at him.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “so bossy,” he mutters, and then, without further delay, he pushes his cock into you.

“f-fuck..” you bite down on your lower lip, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him stretching you. the fullness is almost overwhelming, but there's a hint of pleasure there, building slowly.

he pauses for a moment, his gaze searching your face. “you okay, darling?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“y-yeah,” you manage to say, breathing heavily. “it feels... bigger than i expected,” you admit, your cheeks flushing slightly.

his grin widens at that, and he starts to move, thrusting in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm. normally, you'd have some sassy comeback for that look on his face, but right now, it feels too good to say anything at all.

no wonder women love him.

you came once.

“fuck— nngh y-yes!!” you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming as your body trembles around him.

“oh my go— i am— fuck!” jungkook moans, his head falling back onto the pillow as you ride him, your hips bouncing on his cock.

twice.

“you like that, hm? you like getting your pussy fucked from behind?” his voice is a growl as he grips your ass, pounding into you relentlessly. you’re on all fours, your moans mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin. tears well up at the edges of your eyes, the pleasure bordering on too much, but you don’t want him to stop.

make it a third time.

“fuck..”

jungkook groans as he collapses onto the bed, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes closed. exhaustion drips from his voice as he mumbles, “you’re such a freak.”

you sit beside him, still naked, your fingers lightly tracing patterns over his chest. “one more round?” you suggest, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “yeah, right.”

you tilt your head, raising a brow at him, your expression almost challenging.

his eyes widen just a bit. “oh, you’re serious?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

you nod, shrugging slightly. “how are you not tired?” he breathes out, his voice laced with disbelief.

“i can take some more, i guess,” you say casually, though the glint in your eyes betrays your eagerness.

“i am sorry to disappoint, darling, but i think i am done for tonight.” he lets out a tired sigh, and he sees you pout.

“woah,” he murmurs, watching the way your lips form into a cute little pout. it’s endearing. he’s seen so many sides of you tonight—and now... this.

cute and.. whiny?

“pleaseee, jungkook, one more time!!” you whine, your voice soft and pleading, making his heart skip a beat.

he blinks, like he’s just seeing a new part of you, something he never expected. maybe it’s the endorphins, or just the moment—whatever it is, this side of you is cute, almost innocent in your need.

he likes it.

“how about this,” he says, a grin forming on his lips, “we take a shower, and maybe we can go for another round there, hm?”

“shower sex?” you ask.

he nods.

“no, it’s unsafe,” you respond immediately, shaking your head.

he sighs dramatically, his grin widening. “well then, no more sex for tonight,” he says, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “maybe some other night.”

you roll your eyes, huffing. “you wish”

he chuckles, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close.

“i do.”

a/n: i hope it's not too confusing 😣

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #fanfic #jungkook smau #jungkook fic #smut #bts smut #jjk fic #jungkook fanfic #fuckboy jungkook

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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

Text

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s.

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side.

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him.

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night.

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real.

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word.

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one.

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair.

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question.

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to.

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment.

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth.

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up.

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table.

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you.

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God.

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out.

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you.

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially.

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door.

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal.

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you.

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you.

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable.

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong.

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him.

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss.

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine.

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment.

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze.

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound.

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text.

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling.

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will.

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough.

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty.

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly.

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan.

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck.

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak.

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you.

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more.

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent.

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him.

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet.

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about.

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers.

Long night, huh? I remember those days.

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all.

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor.

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning.

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated.

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation.

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away.

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.”

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him.

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see.

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken.

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away.

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down.

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem.

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve.

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently.

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad.

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what.

But that’s not the topic at hand.

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow.

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response.

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting.

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers.

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back.

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting.

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here.

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough.

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you.

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list.

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough.

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice.

He can’t not worry.

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him.

part nine

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

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sparklystarrrr · 8 days ago

Note

I know you just did my request…BUT

JUST IMAGINE RIDDLE X KING OF HEARTS! READER🤩

Just imagine that they met as kid as a arrange marriage by their parents AND THEY JUST INSTANTLY FELL IN LOVE

when child Riddle was upset about his mom’s rule HERE COME READER TO THE RESCUE CHEERING HIM UP!🥹🥹🥹

And when riddle was in college, king of hearts! Reader send him letters about their day and how much they miss Riddle😭😭

OH and I like to imagine that Riddle kept his marriage a secret ( which was fine with reader)

SO JUST IMAGINE THE SHOCK FACE OF HEARTSLABYUL STUDENT WHEN READER (who was invited to a unbirthday party) RUNS UP TO RIDDLE AND STARTS KISSING HIM AND SAYING “oh my love! How I missed you!” 😭😭😭

Am so sorry about me rambling😅😅

But here is Their relationship in a nutshell:

AGHHHH IM LOVING THE RIDDLE REQUESTS ALSO THIS IS ADORABLEEEE AGHHHHH

Queen of My Heart

Synopsis: Riddle’s beautiful, bubbly and cute secret becomes revealed to Heartslabyul…

Contains: Riddle R. x Fem! King of Hearts! Reader, just pure fluffiness, goes off the Heartslabyul manga, use of petnamed: my love, my rose, dear, Riddle's lowkey down bad

The warm sun beat down vibrant rays of sunlight that made the fresh red paint of the rose bushes glisten and glitter. The small butterflies fluttered overhead in a dance of fleeting happiness while the students of Heartslabyul worked endlessly on their Unbirthday Party that was to happen in a few hours. Riddle made his way around the dorm, checking up on his students and getting in on the planning when he felt he needed to, even participating in making cakes (while threatening Trey not to trick him into adding a mysterious ingredient). There was much joy spread around the whole field. Everywhere you looked someone was smiling and having fun.

Riddle tried to have as much fun as he could, but he felt like something was missing. He was missing you. He’d sent out a letter to your home weeks ago saying that he would plan a special party for your once in a lifetime arrival at NRC, and that he did. The party set up was a success and your fiancé had a feeling his dorm members wouldn’t disappoint. They didn’t even know you were coming. Although, with Riddle’s tense shoulders and his grasping need for perfectionism more than usual, they had a feeling something interesting would happen. “Man, Rid-rid seems off today, doesn’t he Trey?” Cater sighed while painting his share of the roses.

“Yeah, I don’t even know what it could be…”Trey pondered, his paintbrush thick with red glossy paint mindlessly stroking the white roses. "Does the guy have a girl who's coming or somethin'? Doubt it!" Deuce giggled as Ace retorted,”You think the dude gets girls? You must’a been dropped on your head at birth Juice…” Trey and Cater sighed as Adeuce bickered to each other.

"Y'know I remember he was always around this one girl when we were kids. They seemed even closer to each other than me and Chenya were to him. Maybe it's her?" Trey spoke aloud to himself. "That guy had friends? Let alone a girl friend? That guy's wayyy ahead of me in the dating scene..." Cater sulked. The green haired boy laughed at him and continued his painting,"I doubt they were dating." Cater laughed to himself, "Imagine if they were though? Hah! That would be tots funny!"

As if on que, Riddle showed up behind the two third year boys. "Trey, Cater. Please get the King's Chair and place it besides mine. Thank you." When the two boys turned around at the sound of his rather monotonous voice, they saw his cheeks a light pink and the tips of his ears a scarily bright red. Trey and Cater looked at each other with a small smirk, then back at Riddle. "Yes, Housewarden."

⊰᯽⊱┈─❊─┈⊰᯽⊱

Riddle stood idle behind the heart shaped doors of Heartslabyul, awaiting his debut and the arrival of his fiancé. His hands shook slightly while he played with the hem of his suit jacket. There was a sudden crunching of grass behind him, slowly picking up speed as it approached him. "RIDDLE! Oh my love how I've missed you!" A (h/c) haired girl suddenly swung her arms around his neck, sprinkling little kisses onto his cheek and jawline. The boy's face suddenly turned a rosy pink."(y-(y/n)!" He stammered at her body suddenly hitting his.

"I got all of your letters. I was SO excited to come to this Unbirthday party of yours! What do you think of my dress?~" (y/n) did a small twirl, showing off the frilly red dress and rose embellishments. His face softened and a smile formed on his lips."It looks lovely on you, dear," He spoke "The party commences in a couple of minutes, would you care to walk down with me?"

His hand enveloped hers warmly and her eyes glittered."Really?! Of course!!" She smiled as she hopped into his arms. His hands softly circled around her pulling her in as she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

The erupting sound of trumpets filled the air and diverged their attention from each other. Riddle extended his hand once again, and (y/n) put her hand in his happily. There was a sudden crowd of chanting coming from outside the door,"All hail our leader... The Rose-Red Ruler!" Trey and Cater stood at the doors. Their eyes widened at the sight of THE Riddle Rosehearts holding his soon to be wife's hand. Of course, they had no idea they had been engaged, less that they were even together. (y/n) simply waved at them with a kind smile before walking out with Riddle hand in hand.

"His grace, his excellency: Dorm Leader Riddle!" The two made their presence known as they walked out. Suddenly the crowd of students voices wavered slightly. Some looked around in confusion while some had pink cheeks and whispered things to their friends. "H-hurray, Dorm Leader Riddle...?"

The red haired boy and the (h/c) haired girl looked at each other with wide eyes, then laughed loudly at the reaction of his dorm members. "Haha! Love, they really did not expect this, did they?" (y/n) cackled as she clutched onto her stomach like this was a big inside joke. Riddle chuckled beside her, covering his mouth with his hand,"They truly didn't, my rose." He composed himself with a soft smile and continued walking to his designated chair at his grand table.

The short boy pulled out the much smaller King's Chair for his beautiful fiancé. Once seated, the two admired the bright scenery as if this was completely normal to the rest of the students. "Ah yes, the roses are bathed in red, the tables are bedecked in white," He turned to (y/n),"A completely flawless Unbirthday party, don't you think, my rose?"

"Oh my love, you know anything you present to me will be of utmost perfection in my eyes!~" She squealed happily. Trey and Cater ran up to the two and sat down in their own seats at the table. "Hey Rid-rid, we didn't know you had a #wifey, who would'a thunk?" Cater spoke in his normal cheery tone. "Yeah Riddle, you didn't even tell me about her. I assume we're way overdue for an introduction." Trey smiled.

"JUICE HOLY SEVENS YOU WERE RIGHT!-" "DUDE WHAT-" Ace and Deuce shouted as they knocked into one another from shock."Boys, would you please behave for once in your lives?" Riddle sighed while (y/n) giggled next to him. "Well, I assume since you're all close with Riddle it would be best to introduce myself! I'm (y/n) (l/n)- or well, (y/n) Rosehearts soon!" She said while holding Riddle's hand upon the table. There was an absolute ROCK on her finger, they all started at it's glittering shine with wide eyes. It was a medium sized clear diamond with petite rubies on the band. A dainty gold band, nonetheless.

The four boys at the table nearly choked on their tea. "Wait... so that means..." Deuce aimlessly tried connecting the dots in his head. "We are engaged, yes. Set to be wedded once I graduate." Riddle spoke with a confident smile. "Don't worry, you're all invited!" (y/n) smiled.

"How, out of anyone here, did RIDDLE get locked into a relationship before anyone here..." Ace sulked. "How did you get away without telling me about this though? Usually you come to me for everything." Trey questioned with a small laugh. "Well we'd been arranged to marry since birth. She's been here all my life, I'm surprised you didn't notice Trey?" The red haired boy replied.

"She's totes a cutie Rid-rid! We should take a pic (n/n), Magicam will love you!" Cater yelped happily "Of course-- get over here!" Cater wrapped an arm around (y/n) and squished into her while making a cute face; (y/n) following suit, before quickly flashing the camera. "Perf! You're so photogenic girl. Let me tag ya!" Once he got her Magicam user, he jumped back into his seat and muttered a bunch of random hashtags like "#mrs.rosehearts" and "#red-tyrants-queen"

Once getting situated back into her plush seat, Riddle turned to (y/n) with a calm smile and eyes filled with adoration,"How have you been enjoying yourself, dear?" (y/n) smiled brightly,"How come you haven't invited me to Heartslabyul more often? If you must know, this is the most fun i've had in a longgg time. The Queendom of Roses gets lonely without you, you know?"

He took her hand in his and brushed her knuckled softly through his glove. "Well then I shall continue to make arrangements for you to come over here more often." He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, her eyes crinkled as she blushed a light pink and her smile grew."I would love that dear."

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts x reader #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fanfic

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shaiyasstuff · 22 days ago

Text

So I received this ask from anon:

I have recently had a very uncomfortable experience...I am a uni student and have to travel via train sometimes. I was in my seat, wearing headphones, and I could see in the reflection of a window that there were 3 guys looking at me and one of them was all spread out touching himself. Later, that man came to sit next to me and tried to talk to me or get me to look at him. I was just ignoring him, and staring into my phone and pretending not to hear him since I had headphones over my ears, but I could hear them talking about me. They kept daring each other to touch my hair and stuff like that.

Later when we had to get up to get off the train, they walked up to me and kept "brushing" theirs hands "accidentally" against me.

Thankfully nothing happened because they lost me in the crowd once I got out of the train but I was super scared they would follow me

I am so so so sorry you had to experience that. My heart was breaking as I read your ask🥺 I know exactly how that feels, to be completely helpless in those situations. I hope you stay safe always and be sure to always travel with a companion next time🥹

Here is the request for the LADS boys reacting to the events/finding out what happened to you.

You tell them what happened—the train, the way you were stared at, touched, followed. Your voice shakes by the end of it, even if you’re trying to keep it steady.

You didn’t want to make it a big deal. You just needed someone to know:

Zayne

He doesn’t speak at first.

But you see it—the shift. The stillness. Like something inside him tightens, coils too tightly to breathe. His face remains calm, but his eyes say everything. Fury, quiet and buried, held back by habit. By choice.

“They touched you?”

His voice is soft. Too soft. Like he’s trying not to believe it.

You nod.

He inhales slowly, jaw flexing as he exhales through his nose. Then his hand scrubs over his face, once, grounding himself. “Did you report it?”

You shake your head. “No. I was scared. I just… I just wanted to leave.”

His gaze flickers toward the floor, then back to you. “You did what you had to do. I’m not angry at you.”

He hesitates. Then quietly adds, “I hate that I wasn’t there. That you had to face that alone.”

You glance away, and he steps in closer. Not fast. Not overwhelming. Just enough to rest his hand gently on your arm, the warmth of his skin an anchor.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “tell me. Call me. Text me. Anything.”

His voice lowers, thick with the words he struggles to say aloud. “You matter to me more than you think. Don’t go through something like that alone again.”

Later that night, he doesn’t leave your side. He lets you sleep curled against him, one arm around your waist, the other brushing soft strokes through your hair. And every time you shift in your sleep, he murmurs something under his breath.

“You’re safe now.”

“I’m here.”

“They’ll never get near you again.”

The next morning, he drives you to campus.

Kisses your forehead before you get out of the car.

Then heads to the hospital.

It’s a quiet day, until three men are wheeled into the ER. Minor injuries. Nothing urgent. But Zayne hears them laughing. Whispering. Mentioning a girl.

The words catch his ear.

Train. Girl. Scared.

He stills. Completely.

He doesn’t ask questions.

He reads the chart, notes the names.

And when the others step out, Zayne lingers behind. Alone.

What happens next isn’t in the textbooks. It isn’t written into the Hippocratic oath. But he’s a surgeon—he knows exactly where it hurts. Where to press. Where to leave no trace.

Later, when a nurse asks why all three patients discharged themselves early and limped out without a word, Zayne simply nods and goes back to work.

He never mentions it to you.

He just holds your hand a little tighter the next time you walk through the city.

Sylus

There’s a pause.

Not hesitation—calculation.

A flicker in Sylus’s crimson eyes as he scans every word, every tremble in your voice, cataloging and analyzing it with terrifying precision.

You can almost hear the gears turning. Quiet. Lethal.

“Did you get a good look at them?” he asks. The question is sharp, deceptively calm.

You shake your head, voice small. “No. Just… their voices. One of them was touching himself. Then he sat beside me. Tried to talk to me. They were laughing. Daring each other to touch my hair.”

Sylus doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

But his jaw sets, ever so slightly. A muscle ticks in his cheek.

“Scum like that,” he says, voice low, “always think they’re untouchable. Like the world won’t notice when they disappear.”

He doesn’t pace. Doesn’t shout. He doesn’t need to. His fury manifests in stillness—in the way his fingers lace together too tightly, in the frigid control of his tone.

“You’re not taking the train again. Ever.”

“That’s not—Sylus, it’s not realistic—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

His voice slices through your protest like a knife. “I’ll walk with you. Drive you. Put a goddamn tracker on your coat if I have to. But you’re not going near that station alone again. Next time, they won’t even get close enough to breathe near you.”

Silence. Then something shifts in his eyes as they flicker down to your clenched fists.

His tone softens—but only slightly. “I know you were scared. And I hate that they made you feel powerless.”

He reaches out, knuckles grazing your hand. Careful. Controlled.

“But you’re not small. And no one gets to make you feel that way. Not under my watch.”

You nod, and he pulls away.

“Luke. Kieran,” he calls out, without raising his voice. His eyes stay on you. “Get her home. Stay with her.”

Mephisto swoops in and lands on the back of his chair, watching in silence as Sylus stands.

He doesn’t bother turning. “You were tailing her. Track them down.”

His voice is low. Icy.

And Mephisto launches into the air with a mechanical screech that echoes like the end of a countdown.

Within minutes, they bring them to him.

Three men. Faces bloodied, defiant—until they meet his eyes.

There is no grand speech. No threat.

Only Sylus, standing over them like death incarnate, sleeves rolled up, gaze as sharp as a blade.

He leans in, smile cruel and quiet. “Let’s see how untouchable you feel now.”

By the time he’s done, they can’t so much as whisper your name.

And Sylus?

He wipes the blood from his hands with surgical precision. Straightens his coat. And walks out without looking back.

You never hear their voices again.

Rafayel

He goes very still.

The kind of stillness that unsettles the air, that draws the light out of the room without a sound. His expression—usually teasing, theatrical, bold—shifts.

Not into anger. Not yet. It becomes unreadable.

Cold in a way that doesn’t suit his fire.

“They touched you?”

The words fall low, sharp. Stripped of all his usual lilt. Dead serious. Dangerous.

You nod.

His hands curl at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The crackle of heat that usually dances around him is absent. It’s quiet. Controlled. But the restraint is louder than any fury.

“Give me their names,” he says. “Or their faces. I don’t need both.”

You shake your head. Quiet. “I don’t want revenge… I just wanted to feel safe again. That’s all. Just… stay.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Not disappointment—never that. But something else. Like the desire to burn the world colliding with the aching need to be what you asked for.

He exhales through his nose. Shoulders relax just enough for him to step in.

Then his arms are around you, pulling you in, holding you so tightly you feel real again. His warmth wraps around you, not scorching—just steady, grounding. Like embers at your back.

“Then that’s what I’ll be,” he murmurs into your hair. “Your safe place.”

A beat.

“But if they so much as breathe your way again,” he adds, voice quieter, crueler, “I won’t be as merciful.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingers there. “You did nothing wrong, love. You hear me? I’m proud of you. And I’m so, so glad you’re here.”

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper, “I was scared.”

He tucks you closer to his chest, hand cradling the back of your head.

“I know, cutie. I know.” His voice softens like dusk, like waves kissing ash. “It’s over now. You’re with me.”

You fall asleep in his arms, safe in the heat of him.

And later—when the moon is high and your breathing is steady—he slips away. Silent. Focused.

CCTV footage. Street cameras. Reflections in windows. It doesn’t take long. He’s always been good at finding the shadows people try to hide in.

By dawn, three men are reported missing.

One is found knee-deep in a freezing river, babbling about glowing eyes and a voice that promised worse.

The others? Well.

Let’s just say they won’t be going near open water again.

And Rafayel?

He returns before you wake. Washes the blood off his hands.

And makes you tea.

Xavier

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then goes still—completely still.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. You can see it in his eyes—the disbelief, the horror. Like something in him can’t reconcile the image of you—you—with the violation you just described.

“They were… watching you?” he repeats, slowly. “And they touched you?”

You nod.

Xavier’s breath hitches, his hand tightening ever so slightly at his side. He looks shaken—not by fear, but by the weight of helplessness. His voice comes quiet, almost broken.

“I—I don’t understand… how anyone could think that’s okay. How they could look at you and—”

He stops himself. His jaw clenches. It’s subtle, but telling. Xavier rarely shows this much emotion all at once. You see the storm gathering behind his calm.

Then, with careful control, he steps closer. His hand reaches for yours, warm and trembling faintly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. That you were scared. That they made you feel small.”

He swallows. “You should never have had to feel that way. Not for a second.”

His eyes lift to yours, and they’re unwavering now. That quiet strength he carries, the kind most people miss—it sharpens into something else. Resolve.

“I wish I had been there,” he says softly. “Because I would’ve stopped them. I would’ve made sure they never looked at you again.”

Then, quieter—like a vow spoken into the space between heartbeats—

“You won’t ever be alone again. Not if I can help it.”

He holds you that night, as long as you’ll let him. A steady presence. A silent promise.

But when you’re asleep—peaceful at last—Xavier slips away. Quietly. Deliberately.

He tracks them down. It doesn’t take much.

He already had access to security feeds, transport records, street cameras.

He watches the footage once, then again, jaw tightening.

Then he finds them.

And Xavier doesn’t scream. He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t need to.

All he says, in that low, even voice of his, is:

“You made her afraid. That was your first mistake. I won’t give you time to make a second.”

They don’t know what hit them.

And the next time you take that train, no one dares come close.

No one even looks at you the wrong way.

Not with Xavier walking beside you—quiet, composed, protective as ever.

But now, there’s something different in the way people step aside when he passes.

Something cold.

Something earned.

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naomis-daydream · 9 months ago

Text

her favorite place // paige bueckers

summary: paige goes live as she gets her hair done from her favourite person sat in her favourite place.

warnings: none!

a/n: not my best work but I wanna start writing for her and this is the first time in months i’ve flowed while writing so!

✧

the image looked suggestive, or at the very least, questionable to viewers.

as hundreds joined the huskie’s live, they couldn’t help but notice the comfortable position their favorite player had between a pair of parted thighs.

uconnfan what did i click awn…

user3 facing the wrong way tbh

user8 who is that behind her??!

she smirks slightly as her eyes dart over the flood of comments.

“where am i?” she reads, “my favorite place,” she says, scrunching her nose as she smiles.

she knows what she’s doing, you think from behind her, rolling your eyes at her antics.

as if she could hear your thoughts, she stops taunting her growing audience.

“y’all chillll, i’m just getting my hair done. my favorite spot, aka the hair chair, getting my braids. come on now,” she assures, turning the camera at an angle to show you, eyebrows furrowed as you focused on a braid.

she nudges you with her shoulder, nodding at the camera. “hey live,” you say gently, poking your head out from behind paige with a soft smile. in the bottom corner that the blonde was still visible, her lips curled into a small grin as she watched you speak.

“today we’re switching it up a little bit from her normal two braids. we’re doing three on each side pulled into a slick back.”

paige nodded along as she put herself back into frame. “yup,” she popped her lips, “she’s getting me right.”

a low “mm-hm,” left your lips before you spoke again. “yeah, i gotta treat her right after them cruise braids. poor girl was traumatized.”

she whipped her head around at your comment, truinng to look up at you. “hey, i thought we left that in the past, i got set up.”

you giggle as you take one hand to push her jaw forward. “stop moving. then your hair really is gonna be messed up.”

you hear the smack of her teeth as she refocuses on the live, shaking her head slightly.

as you continued, she spoke with viewers about the upcoming season, plans for summer holiday, and traveling, occasionally reading comments aloud to you.

“‘can y/n do my hair next?’ uhhh no, she’s booked. got her for the whole summer actually. right?” she pans the camera to you.

“sorry guys, p comes first,” you say with a feigned frown.

she turns the phone back, shrugging her shoulder. “i could get kayla for you if you want though, for sure.”

you apply oil to the parts in the braided section then smooth you hand along the middle section. “okay, im done with the braids. can you get the brush and gel so i can do the bun?”

“but i’m on live,” she replies, looking at the screen.

you stop, looking at the back of her head silently. really?

paige slowly turns around, meeting your incredulous expression.

“yes ma’am.”

“thank you,” you smile as she gets up, propping her phone up on the glass table in front of you both.

as she turns the corner to the bathroom you lean forward, reading some of the comments flooding in.

wbbluver period suh!! you tell her

huskie4l “yes ma’am” ohh it’s like that💀💀

ice.bradyy made blondie get up real quick

you laughed at a few, responding as you read. “yeah, because I don’t know who she thought she was talking to.”

said blonde walks back into the living area, gel and brush in hand “what’re you in here giggling about?”

“nothin’” you shake your head, leaning back to give her space back between your legs. “just chattin’ with the people.”

she sits down, folding her legs criss crossed as she passes you the products. “what are you guys saying about me in here, huh?” she asks as you push her head playfully.

“oh hush, we weren’t talking about you.”

she hums quietly as you begin brushing her hair back, smoothing over any fly aways or unarmed tangles before grabbing a scrunchie and tying her locks back. you pull her hair through twice before pulling it halfway through the third time and wrapping the excess hair around the bun.

you place your hands on her shoulders, sighing softly, “okay, you’re all done.”

her eyes light up as she sits up straight, “perfect! ayeee, lemme see.” she looks in the camera, licking her lips before they pull into a smile.

oh lord now she’s feeling herself.

“okayyy, my girl got me right! braids by y/n get at her,” she exclaims before correcting herself, “but like i said, i got first priority, you know this.”

you laugh at her softly, gathering the supplies to take em back to the bathroom before a hand stops you.

“wait you can’t leave without saying bye to the live,” she says, wrapping her free arm around your shoulder.

you smile, waving again, “bye liveee,” you blow a kiss, leading to paige blowing one of her own followed by a wink.

“talk to yall later, peace!”

✧

#naomis-daydreams #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige x reader

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visionsofmagic · 2 years ago

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day 6: roronoa zoro [cock warming]

࿓ synopsis • you ask to zoro whether he needs any help or not, and in return, he makes you sit on his cock so that it can get warm while he’s sleeping.

―❦ nsfw, opla!zoro, f!reader, reader is being needy & brat, pussy slapping, pet names, teasing, swearing, ‘is all! • 1.2k • a man that takes all my attention to himself in an instant in every type of universe; live action, manga, and anime. I chose to write for la!zoro version ‘cause why not? enjoy, hope I did everything right! [kinktober m.]

“stop moving, you're distracin' me.”

his deep voice cuts your actions of trying to stay still on his lap, adjusting your position so that your numb legs will fix, but, the struggle causes your pussy to clench around his length because of sudden movement which ends up by earning an unsteady thrust. looking at his face, hands gripping the collar of his sleeve, you see his closed eyes, trying to continue the nap he’s taking in the middle of the day.

“sorry –“ you say, smiling innocently knowing he cannot see, “I didn’t mean to, it’s just –“ you try to find a solid word to describe the situation you’re in now but the weight of lust running through your pussy takes your brain away, wanting to break free, letting yourself go and wasting the last thirty-four minutes waste, waking zoro up, being a greedy brat – only to make him not sleep, instead, fuck you. “so much.”

you can’t bring yourself to say what you’re thinking aloud – just fuck me already! Just move this thick cock and fill me up! – pathetic.

you’re here, sitting down on his cock, warming it, being useful.

the moment of the morning came into your mind; the crew went to bring food and new clothes to the ship, and when they left, only you and zoro were on the ship, you said ‘I wanna be useful for you’ because he’s still healing and you wanted to help – anything, you added, which was a bad idea – maybe, it wasn’t that bad though.

zoro, being a greedy boyfriend even if he tries to hide it, decided to make you a useful one – for his damn cock – to warm it up!

“so much?” he teases you, taking you back to reality, making the sensation on your pussy grow bigger each passing time, moving his hips, acting as if he just adjusts his position like you did minutes ago – only this time, it’s an act – to try you, seeing how much you can handle this. folding his arms, he opens his eyes slowly, an eyebrow is raised, questioning, “what’s so much? I even didn’t begin to fuck you, did I, doll?”

opening your legs wider, challenging him, a whimper leaves your mouth yet zoro doesn’t show any sign of being greedy to fuck you – oh, what self-control!

but you’re not done yet. “it seems you will never do,” you say, shrugging, hands on his shoulder building up to his neck, playing with the hair on his neck – the most breathtaking man you have ever seen – he’s so beautiful that you would beg anytime now but you should try first – to break him into the point in which he will let himself go and move his hips. “I know I am here for the help – to warm your cock,” you point to the sight in front of him – your pussy beautifully covering his thick cock, wetness that comes out of you soaking his veined length. “am I helping?”

opening his arms, he puts them behind his head’s back instead as he leans to the wall of the chair you’re sitting on – eyes travel from your tight pussy to your face, meeting with your innocent smile and sparkling eyes.

“u-huh,” he says, trying to understand where you’re heading with this question, because he knows you well enough to realize you want him to move, yet stubborn and prideful to beg, not until the right moment which zoro waits to arrive. “warming my cock so well that I can feel you dripping into it – hot.”

nodding to him, heat rushes to your face at the sudden compliment, making you gain a confident manner, and continue on with your act; being a fucking brat, using his jealousy to achieve your goal – you would feel bad under other circumstances but not today, not when you want him to devour you – he’s hard to resist, and you’re so greedy to be a good girl.

“anything for my crewmate,” not boyfriend – a crewmate. it takes his attention, eyes on your face, daring you to go on with piercing gazes, jaw getting tight, straight face expression that screams danger. it only turns you on further. “I will make sure to provide my service to the captain as well than because he can need – agggh – zoro –!”

your words are cut by him; raising your body up a little until his tip releases you, and then, without missing a heartbeat, putting it down on his length, thrusting into your dozy pussy, earning a scream out of your mouth.

holding his shoulder tightly, you try to stay in balance while he keeps doing that without any particular rhythm and steadiness so that you get cockdumbed mind right away – all dizzy, just moaning, feeling him shoving his dick into you, balls hitting the ass – finally!

“is this what you wanted, brat?” he asks, hands open your skirt by damaging its buttons, nearly tearing it apart, cupping the breasts through the fabric of your bra before letting them watch how they bounce in sync with your body, raising up and down on his cock with more rapid pace now – devouring you – the things you wanted for a long time. “want me to break that pussy, pretty doll – ohhh – uhmm – y/n – you – you will fuckin’ get it!”

his hands are positioned on your waist, looking down, seeing your clit getting wider with each of his hard and strong thrusts, warming it with all the juices you make – you literally soak now, close to the edge, and zoro smirks at you the moment he hears the crew entering the ship.

his possessive and rough side takes control of his mind – his soul as he picks you up, you already begin to beg for him to put his cock inside, pleases coming out of your parted pink lips that you bite so hard. you let him turning your body, abdomen touching the surface of the bed, cock’s tip resting on the entrance of your pussy, then, he slaps it with his dick, a hand finds your neck, putting your face down onto the pillow – his body hovering behind you as your ass gets higher and higher.

it feels so vulnerable to be in this position as if you’re his own fucktoy to play with, and you can’t deny the fact that even the thought of it can make you cum in an instant.

“zoro – aggh – I –“ you try to say when his dick slaps your clit once again, your body jumps – feeling both shy and shameless at the same time but he cuts you out, cock enters you in one go, jolting your body forward.

“cut it. you don’t want to waste your breath now, you will need it when I make you scream my name enough to make all the crew hear it,” he chuckles – the rings of danger echo inside your head, making you look behind and see him; standing on his knees, eyes on your face, a smirk is visible that gives chill down to your spine at the sight – his glory has one meaning – is that he will not leave this room until others – and your brat brain understands only he can have you like this.

“will make sure everyone knows who’s fuckin’ you day and night, including you, you dumb doll. should’ve learned it sooner, but, I’m always open to teaching you how to be a good fuckin' girl for me.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *cuties*

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redwingstan · 1 month ago

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the angel that fell from the sky [joaquin torres x fem!reader insert]

author's note; if you haven't seen cap 4, please go see it. also slight spoilers below!

warnings; none; just fluff. please enjoy!

"'The Angel that fell from the sky.'" "The 'Angel'?"

"That's what they're calling you."

You heard the squeaking of wheels from Joaquin's chair as he pushed himself towards you. He peered over your shoulder, bracing one arm on the desk to get a closer look at your monitor. His breath fanned your cheek as he mumbled aloud the headline of the article you had been reading.

"Sounds a bit dramatic, don't you think?" he asked before pulling away and plopping back into his chair. You looked over your shoulder to catch him wincing as he nursed his broken arm that was still in a sling. "But if it gets me closer to meeting Ant Man, I'll take it."

You stifle a soft laugh before clicking from the article and typing away on the screen you were working on before. "Glad to see the fame hasn't gone to your head."

"If months of physical therapy and being told over and over by you and Sam to 'take it easy' is the price of fame...I don't know know if it's all worth it," he joked with a laugh that made you roll your eyes.

You continued to type away. "Well, sorry that we're worried about you," you said, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you the felt the atmosphere shift a bit. "But to be fair, you did almost die."

"Huh."

Your typing ceased and you looked over your shoulder to find him grinning.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He was leaning back in his chair, studying with an amused grin. You rolled your eyes again and decided to take him for his word. You faced your monitor and went back to typing.

"It's just that..." You groaned and ceased typing once more, though you didn't dare look over your shoulder as he continued. "I could've sworn you just said you were worried about me." He used his feet to make his chair roll towards you.

Biting the bullet, you looked over shoulder and met him with a harsh stare, though it was accompanied by a subtle smile you couldn't seem to hide this time around. "I said Sam and I."

"Which," he continued on as if presenting his final argument to a grand jury, "implies that you do, in fact, care about me too." He leaned his good elbow on his knee and propped his chin in the center of his palm as he gazed at you, tickled pink by this revelation. "I'm starting to wonder who's head over heels now?"

You laugh a bit, already in the process of turning back to your computer. "So am I."

You had long ago sworn off telling Joaquin your real feelings despite knowing his feelings towards you were mutual. But every time you or Joaquin mustered up the courage to share your true feelings, things went wrong.

The first time it had been a simple miscalculation resulting in minor scrapes and bruises that landed him in the infirmary. This time it was the ICU. You balled up your fists in your lap as you recalled the long wait in the waiting room, the sight of him strung up to wires that monitored his fragile heartbeat; and the black and blue bruises that littered his skin.

You didn't even want to dwell on the possibilities on how much worse things could get. Which is why it was much easier to bottle up your feelings and hope that they would wear off eventually. After all, in your mind at least, it would save you both the emotional damage of losing one another.

Your heart suddenly skipped a couple more beats as Joaquin reached out to stop your chair from turning away from him. You let your feet go slack against the hardwood floor as he used one arm, with little to no effort, to gently tug your rolling chair towards him so you were facing him again. You came to a slow stop as your knees briefly touched. It was during this moment that you felt your brain turn to mush.

"It's me."

You blinked. "What?"

He reached out to touch one of your fists resting on your thigh. Slowly your fingers began to uncurl from your palm.

"I'm...head over heels...for you," he said with nervous laughter.

You laughed too, unsure of what to say. "Did Sam tell you say that?"

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade of red you've never seen before. He gave your loose fist a soft squeeze. Eventually, his infectious grin turned into a subtle, nervous smile.

"I want to give us a chance—"

"Joaquin—"

He threaded his fingers in the spaces between yours. You were too distracted by the bundle of nerves in your chest to feel them.

"Y/N, I've kissed death one too many times not to at least let you know how I feel...not that you don't already know." The corners of his lips turned upwards just as yours did.

He was right. It wasn't like you didn't know how he felt about you. Ever since he came wandering into your uncle's gym, he didn't once shy away from letting you know how he felt. Be it a lingering gaze; his signature grin of approval when you successfully hit the punching bag right; or the occasional conglomerate of words that fell out of his mouth that sometimes didn't make much sense—though you always understood what he was trying to say. His feelings for you had always been right there within your reach.

As if reminding you of this, Joaquin squeezed your hand, eyes yearning for a response.

"You know Sam will tease you endlessly when he hears about us," You said, apprehensive of the consequences to come.

Joaquin inched forward, the wheels of his chair scraping the floor. "I think I can handle it. He already does that to me now, I'm used to it."

"Good point," you said with a shrug, your body naturally inclining forward. "But, you'll only hear me complaining twice as much for you to take it easy."

He let go of one of your hands, his bruised fingers reaching forward to stroke your warm cheek. "Child's play, mi amor. I could never get tired of you nagging me."

The beating of your heart grew louder than your thoughts.

"Then there's Captain America..."

"Yeah, yeah. You mentioned Sam, already," he said, his thumb stroking your skin as he leaned forward, your foreheads brushing against each other. He glanced at your lips.

"No, I mean...the other Captain America."

Joaquin paused. "Your uncle?"

You nodded. "You know he still never got over you calling him 'gramps' when you first met."

His shoulders slumped a bit, slight disappointment lacing his features. "But I thought he liked me?"

"I like you." The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them. His grin returned at this. You squeezed his hand, the one that was still holding your cheek. "But he won't go any easier on you if it's me you're after."

"So I'm up against two Captain Americas?" He whispered, eyes growing wide at this sudden revelation. You laughed and shook your head in amusement.

Before you could respond, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. Just as he pulled away, he managed to murmur, "Game on," before pressing his lips to yours.

#mcu x you #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #mcu imagine #mcu x y/n #mcu x reader #mcu fanfic #joaquin torres fic #marvel x you #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres imagine #marvel cinematic universe x reader #captain america 4 #captain america brave new world #falcon x reader #danny ramirez #danny ramirez x reader

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jellykyunnie · 2 months ago

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˗ˏˋ Entry : 062 - E-Rank! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: First Date ◛⑅·˚ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Just say my name || Speedin' to you baby switching lanes ] ¡! ❞

"Jinah, do I look alright?" Jinwoo sighs, seemingly a bit stressed as he tries to fix his unkept hair.

"Nah, you look as stupid as ever" She teases, laughing at her brother who retaliates by pinching her cheek. "Ow, ow!"

She wriggles out of her brother's hold, lightly smacking a throw pillow on his arm, "Ugh, you're just going on a date and you're this nervous? Man, you're hopeless"

"I'm not buying you chicken wing anymore with how insolent you are to you big brother" Jinwoo teases, ruffling up her hair just to piss his little sister off even more.

"Hey, don't be like that" She grits her teeth, pouting at her brother who only smiles innocently as if he does no wrong. "Just don't piss yourself trying to get a girlfriend."

"... And I better not be coming home with mess all over the house" He simply deflects her insult, not entirely sure if even he can keep calm during his first date (but surely he wouldn't get that bad, right) "Do you laundry at the exact hour, I want this place spotless by the time I come back or I'm forcefeeding you salad for the next three weeks."

"What a jerk, taking out his anger on me when he screws up his date"

Her jokes were met with deaf ears as Jinwoo put on his shoes and went out the door.

It took him a total of 7 attempts on asking you out for a date. He was supposed to do the 7th one before his double dungeon raid that actually killed him but backed away last minute because he was too nervous to actually form words.

He doesn't know how he did it this time, but he did and got to ask you out on a date on some stroke of luck that he didn't fumble (well he did a few times) to say it aloud. Actually, he nearly yelled too.

But nobody will talk about it, surely you will forget about his stutters.

Anyway, he fixed his hair again by looking at his reflection on his phone screen before shoving it into his pocket. He waited for a few minutes near the station until he hears the familiar taps of your footsteps coming his way.

As weird as it is, Jinwoo started recognizing footstep patterns ever since he got the system. Though he's only arounf level... 50? He had a ton of upgrades, it's no surprise his senses will pick up on the oddest things.

"Sorry, am I late?" Your soft voice breaks through as he was a bit lost in his train of thoughts.

"Ah, huh? No... No, I just arrived" He pushes himself off of the wall he was resting on, trying his best not to show how flustered he is at the moment. "How about we get lunch first?"

"Sure!" You beam, accepting the hand he was awkwardly holding out.

꒰ .... ꒱

Jinwoo swore to himself he wouldn't be too nervous today, but he ended up biting his own tail with how antsy he was all day. He never went out on a date before, but he wanted today to be the best day for you to some extent.

It's his first date, who would want to screw it up? He could only really wish for the best. But with your adorable expression right now, he could atleas tbe a bit relieved right?

"How cute" You say, looking down on the claw machine holding a bunch of plushies. "They're huge too."

"Well, they look like they are half your size" He said as he looks down on the machine. "It even looks like you"

"Hahah" You softly shove his arm before pointing at a black kitty plush inside. "That one looks like you, now I kinda want it"

"Pfft...." He shakes his head, knowing you're making fun of him since the cat had a rather sleepy look to it's face. "Alright, stay here"

You waited for a little while and he returns with a single token in hand.

"I used to play this game a lot for my little sister when we were kids, I think I can win you that one." Jinwoo says, pretending he absolutely wont use dominator's touch to save time and let you enjoy the plushie sooner than later.

Of course, he keeps a close eye on you as you waited in baited breath as he catches(cheats) to get you the plushie. Well he won. Of course he does. Dominator's touch is surprisingly so handy even outside of combat. (As if he doesnt also use it when he feels too lazy to reach for the the tv remote)

Jinwoo merely hands you the plushie, smiling as if he didn't use dirty tricks.

You wont know anyway, with how cute and bubbly you are right now— You totally don't even realize, so it's fine really. He'll just keep it a secret as he fondly watches you gush over the cute plushie you consider as a mini him.

"I'll name him Jinwoo" You beam proudly, skipping in your steps as Jinwoo himself merely chuckles and shakes his head.

"So I'm a dad now?" He asks as you nod your head. "Hahah."

"Well, it looks like you so?" You only smile, making his heart flutter even ore at the sight of your happy and pretty face nuzzling against the little thing.

"Then Jinwoo jr will be in charge of making sure mom doesn't get any nightmares and keep her pretty little head full of blissful dreams" He gently pokes its tiny nose, deciding to play along with your game. "And you, should be going home now"

"Already?" You pouts as he gently guides you back to the train station. "But I'm having way too much fun"

"I know, but we're both busy tomorrow, so you need a lot of sleep" Jinwoo shook his head, before throwing another smile "I take it you will say yes when I ask you for another date?"

"...."

You ponder for a little while before standing on your feet and kissing his cheek, "That answers your question, right?"

You then turn away to go up the station, leaving the poor hunter frozen on his spot to process what the hell just happened. Jinwoo's heart raced at an impossible speed as the gears in his brain were seemingly put on a screeching halt.

It took him a while to recover but eventually he turns around and silently hums to himself, his fair cheeks dusted with a faint hue of pink as he revels in his victory.

Who was that goddamn ahjussi who said E-ranks cant get into dates and be succesful? He hopes to see that bastard again and throw him a middle finger because that is a total lie.

After all, the unfortunate E-rank him who has nothing much to show has gotten your heart. Isn't that a win?

In a way, he wanted to know too. Will you, who is just a normal person— Accept the him today who has nothing much to show? And today answered his doubts.

Now Jinwoo is completely sure of his decision of falling for you. Since you are here for the him today, he'll make sure the him tomorrow will be at your mercy once he gains the right and capabilities to be an S-ranker.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: a fluffy sung jinwoo fic because I am feeling particularly more in love with him as of late. I'll try to do hsr content I swear heheh.... But for now I hope you are alright with just me gushing over my main hubby woowoo<33. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #sung jin woo headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader fluff #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling fanfic #ore dake level up na ken

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