#them meeting and the tension and overwhelming feelings

[dailycass-cain]

Batgirl #1 feels like a dream. A dream that I always wanted to see but never thought it was possible. This past Wednesday changed that and held a physical copy in my hands.

It's finally time for my thoughts on the issue.

I'll start with the book's only two critiques I have for it. For new fans, this comic is just a gorgeously drawn comic with layers that scratch the surface. You get that instantly on the very first page when Shiva and Cass meet.

You can understand the subtleness. But I can see a new reader going? "I need to know more of this context." That leads to the second critique of the comic: editor's notes.

They could've added much more to the words of the comic. Explain further some of the history.

I mean there is a PERFECTLY minded trade that solves this problem (out April 8th, 2025). But it would've been nice to direct readers to a specific issue of the past. To further enhance the reading experience.

That said...

This feels like a continuation of Batgirl Vol. 1, but with the knowledge that even after #73 Cass continues to be a bat. There are so many callbacks to Puckett and Gabrych (in a way) along with Tynion, Hill, and Conrad/Cloonan.

I'll give it to writer Tate Brombal he just skips RIGHT to the meat keeping the reader as clueless as Cass is into the story.

We're dragged into this mess like her not knowing the full story save what she sees and knows. Even if she knows Shiva is trying to be better.

Just that she doesn't want to be dragged into this mess. Not only that, Shiva unnerves Cass in a way given they are two sides of the same coin (both in blood and choices).

Not only that, but the moment Cass meets her mom, she murders someone (a guard who is violent and earned the violent end). It's probably right there Cass decided to check out afraid of this being a relapse of "old ways".

This, in a way, feels like Brombal addressing the circle the two characters have been in since 2020 at the start of this issue. There is just this uneasy tension, which ends when the series' antagonists show up.

You get that "the Unburied." Ninjas are cut from the cloth of Frank Miller and Peter Laird/Kevin Eastman. You get those Hand/Foot Clan vibes from them.

As for how they are so dangerous. Well, again the Laird/Eastman method of ninjas. They just keep coming. Waves and waves. They know their target. Eventually, no matter how skilled one is, one wave is going to get lucky and overwhelm the target.

What makes them deadly is that they keep coming until their targets are wiped out. Therein lies the reason Cass stays (both times): She knows her mom could be right.

They could target everyone she loves, and some of the family could be endangered due to that unknown factor.

That is the core of Cass, and we get our "character introduction" of who Cass is. She was raised to be a weapon but chose to be a hero. She was an orphan by choice (okay a nice nod to THAT codename). That her parent is Batman (but aw not Babs). Choosing to protect.

That's where the comic just goes to another level thanks to the art by Takeshi Miyazawa and colors by Mike Spicer. Where each impact and panel just POP. Not to mention the "mood" with the colors Spicer does here.

Interestingly, the only impact we get is via Shiva's reactions to Cass fighting. Punching her, but also them fighting together against the Unburied.

The things she's seen of her mom. The death duel. The death. The violence. Being evil. That's what Cass has known (and in a way the murder mom clichés). But we see throughout the shades of Shiva that are more than that.

I think the points where we get little callbacks to the Question yet Cass sasses her mom with "Lying." Again, Cass knows that Shiva loves fighting. Because deep down she too loves this. But also the "lying" Cass means to Shiva. And again we get her saying what she's seen in the past.

And I'm kind of surprised we see the Cult of Shiva again (along with the survivor who Steph fought in #26). Again someone we haven't seen in well SO LONG. And well, say goodbye to this issue (farewell to Shiva's #2 fan).

I'm really curious to where this goes. Obviously, we're going to get answers. But the questions raised this issue do intrigue me. Not to mention Cass/Shiva teaming up. And that alone is a highlight into itself.

I just wonder WHO is behind the Unburied? Because you know it's someone. Question is it someone with a connection to BOTH Cass and Shiva? Or is it truly sins of the Mother dropped on the daughter?

If they're targeting people associated with Shiva? Does it mean we're getting the first meeting between Richard Dragon and Cass? To showcase another layer of Shiva to Cass that's never been explored? Or Ben Turner aka Bronze Tiger? Curious questions indeed.

Regardless Brombal really has a DEEP understanding for both characters.

There's just so much dialogue and just reactions that FEELS just entrenched from Batgirl Vol. 1. That this feels like a writer going FULL ON with no restrictions with Cass.

Not only that but artist and colorist just deliver that same method. Keeping what was in Vol. 1 here present as well

I felt for them again for so many times in these many years- at home.

I felt for them again for so many times in these many years- at home. This comic really does feel like a celebration of the character. Something to honor the anniversary and everything that has come before it. Be it Batgirl Vol. 1 & 2, Tec, Batman & the Outsiders, Spirit World, and Batgirls.

That again why the emotions hit akin to Shadow of the Batgirl. Being a fan of the character so long. Being around for this ride. This hits on another level as well.

And after a week of darkness, this comic (along with another) brought some much-needed light to my world.

So to any Cass fan hesitant in the past due to well "DC being DC", let me just say that this is the one. The one fans have been dreaming of. Hoping. This #1 delivers SO much. Maybe, it shows to others why this character just resonates with so many.

[leejenowrld]

did mark and y/n secretly enjoy the thrill of sneaking around and fucking in secret, knowing they could get caught? were there any close calls where someone almost caught them having sex before the party?

mark and y/n did find sneaking around thrilling, even though it could get frustrating at times—especially when they were so horny and turned on but had to wait until they were behind closed doors. there were moments when the urge to touch, kiss, or fuck each other in public was so overwhelming, but they couldn’t risk it. the restraint added to the tension, and while it could be annoying, it also fueled their desire. the secrecy heightened everything, making their stolen moments more intense, almost intoxicating.

a part of them undeniably got turned on by the danger of being caught. they liked the thrill, especially when they were role-playing or really into it. the idea of someone almost catching them was like a drug. the quiet moans, the desperate gasps, the way y/n would bite her lip to keep from screaming—it made everything feel forbidden and hotter.

and yes, there were close calls. once, mark fucked her against the lockers after a late-night practice. the locker room was empty, or so they thought. he had her pinned, one hand gripping her hip, the other tangled in her hair as he thrust into her from behind. the sound of her body meeting his filled the room, echoing off the metal lockers. y/n had to bite her fist to muffle her moans, and mark leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he growled, “stay quiet, baby, or they’ll hear us.”

her legs were trembling from the force of his thrusts, and the cool metal of the lockers pressed against her chest only heightened the sensation of his cock filling her so deeply. they both froze when they heard voices outside—the rest of the team was just outside the door. y/n’s heart raced, and mark didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, whispering, “be good for me, don’t make a sound.” the risk of being caught had her clenching tighter around him, and he groaned low in his throat, struggling to keep his own voice down.

luckily, the team didn’t come in, but the thought of how close they were made the entire experience unforgettable for both of them. it was wild, reckless and so incredibly hot.

[berscrk]

I finally updated my griffguts playlist to a roughly accurate order of how i imagine the songs playing out to the story 🤭 i hope you like it if you check it out

[tonycries]

Men In Uniform F*ck Better!

Synopsis. You want him and you want him now. It doesn’t matter if you have to fúck him in his uniform - in fact, it just might make it better.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] professor! Gojo x Reader, yakuza boss! Sukuna x Reader, calligrapher! Geto x Reader, baker! Nanami x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, no curses! AU, oral (male + female receiving), men at work, manhandling, marking, slight gúnplay, degradation, smacking, choking, Sukuna is mean but he’s a yakuza boss so, spitting, semi-public, brat-taming, bunch of heinous stuff idek, cúmplay, slight foodplay, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Was gonna add Choso and Toji but this got too long, dw I’ll make separate ones about them later <3 

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The baker

Watching Nanami Kento at work could make even the most ardent non-believers worship God. 

Kneading. Spreading. Every motion of his strong hands deliberate and purposeful. Muscles rippling in his forearms with each movement. 

You watch - almost hypnotized - as the devilishly handsome baker at your favorite bakery prepares his dough for tomorrow. By God were you glad you managed to bat your lashes just enough to convince him to let you stay after closing - for educational purposes, of course. 

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily as long fingers sink deep into the dough, squeezing. Pulling. Teasing. A delicate bead of sweat trickling down between his furrowed brows and disappearing enticingly between those chiseled collarbones. Oh, how you wished it was you under his hands instead.

“How long’s it gonna take? I see the way you’re watching me, y’know.” 

A low rumble breaks the silence, sending tremors down your spine - all the way to your already-heated cunt. Eyes snapping up to meet Nanami’s darkened ones, your face burns at being caught red-handed. Stammering out excuses, “W-wha- I didn’t-”

Soft dough now forgotten, he steps closer, presence overwhelming, dominating the space around you. “Always do. Watching me with such slutty eyes.” Low words that make your pussy throb. You’re dumbfounded by his eyes, intense and stripping - making you feel so exposed and vulnerable before him. 

In the dimly lit kitchen, the tension is palpable. You can’t help but lean into his presence, standing toe-to-toe with his muscled front. 

With a slight smirk curling his lips, Nanami leans in, his breath warm against your ear and making you shudder in anticipation. “But don’t worry, darling. I like it.” 

They’re the last words said before he pulls you into a searing kiss, a hand tight around your neck, neat fingernails digging into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him as his tongue demands entry, intertwining with yours. It’s possessive, it’s feral - and tastes oh so very sweet - just like his delicate pastries. 

Nanami breathes you in like a man starved. A desperation that carries into your frantic fingers untying that godforsaken apron. 

And in his steady hands as they lift you up as if you weigh nothing, fingers groping and kneading your ass as he seats you on the kitchen counter. The surface cold under where your skirt was messily bunched up. “Mm- hngh- please, Nanami.”

Pulling away with a final bite to your lower lip, he leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down your body that send chills racing through you, and have your thighs rubbing together for an ounce of friction. 

“Tch” Of course, he wasn’t a fan. Grip bruising, manhandling your legs open so shamefully, he splays you out deliciously for him. Nanami’s greedy gaze devours the sinful way your dripping cunt leaks through your thin panties - ones you wore especially for him.

Seems he knew too, pushing his glasses up contemplatively before dropping onto his knees with a fucked out oh. “Always knew you were naughty, darling, but to be such a slut? Driving me crazy, hm?” his voice thick with desire and whispered mere millimeters away from your swollen folds.

Moaning softly, you arch your back into the warm breath hitting your quivering cunt, whining out an embarrassed “Noo- only for you, Nanami.”

“Oh yeah?” Huffing out a dark chuckle, he all but rips off your soaked panties. The tattered fabric stark against the sterile floor. You gasp at the cold air that hits your heated cunt - but not for long, because Nanami’s hot mouth is on it like a man dying of thirst. 

Nose-deep in your pussy, the cold metal of his glasses makes you flinch in sensitivity. His hands spread your cunt bruisingly, letting his tongue bully it’s way past your folds, urgently lapping at your juices as if you were the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted. 

Chin hitting your cunt, nose rubbing against your pulsing clit, he makes out with your sloppy pussy in methodical, merciless movements of his tongue that have you keening and bucking your hips for more more more. 

Looking up at you over his glasses, his hungry gaze devours your half-lidded eyes, the grip searing on his hair, and the whimpers of his name leaving your swollen lips just as greedily as the mouth on your slutty cunt.

“Wanted this right, darling?” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Vibrations making slick bead out of your cunt and pool onto his waiting lips. “Wanted to break under my hands?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes, s’all I’ve wanted.” teary whimpers leave your bruised lips, you craved the sting of his hands, the burn of his fingers. Your hips buck uncontrollably, grinding yourself against his mouth as he sucks your clit into his mouth. 

Hands now groping every inch of skin he could find, leaving pretty purple marks that remind you of his mouth-watering pies.

Exploring every curve and valley, bending you to his will, languid where his tongue was merciless. Savoring you. Groping your breasts, squeezing your ass, as if he wanted everything all at once.

Your entire body was sore now. Cunt throbbing in sympathy with the tender flesh. Marks littering your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. Ah, all these weeks you’d been right - heaven really was in Nanami Kento’s hands. And right now you were putty in them. 

He grasped your thighs, squeezing them roughly and lifting them higher, opening you wider for his unforgiving pace. Clearly enjoying the way your face contorted in pain and pleasure, Kento slipped a finger inside you. One. Then two. Stretching you to your limits. Spreading open your already-stretched entrance further. 

His fingers frantic now, fucked-out, jerky movements. Wilder. Animalistic. Driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Open your mouth.” 

You listen - drunk on his tongue as yours lolls out so lewdly. The taste hits you before the realization - sweet sugar and the taste of you on your tongue as two thick fingers are shoved into your mouth. They reach the back of your throat, pressing hard onto your tongue. You force yourself to fight off the gagging as some animalistic part of you sucks desperately on them for the sweet, sweet taste. 

“Almost as sweet as you.” Nanami groans, words muffled into your cunt and sending white-hot pleasure racing up your spine. Words hanging in the air, he speeds up the movements of his mouth, frantic movements matching your need for more. 

Your climax hits you with a jolt, cumming till you see stars behind your eyes. Maybe it was his words, maybe it was the way his tongue quirked just right on your throbbing clit to make you throw your head back as you fell apart underneath him. 

“Hngh- Oh fuck, Nanami. M’cum- cumming!” you whine, grinding your cunt down impossibly harder on his pretty face. Fingers tangled in his silky blond locks as you force him deeper, riding out your high greedily.

You’re still dazed - vision blurry as Nanami pulls away from your cunt with a lewd squelch! getting up from his position kneeling on the floor. “So delicious on m’tongue, darling.”

Devastatingly handsome face flushed, breaths ragged, muscled front now pressing against your sinfully spread legs. And in your orgasm-hazed mind you still manage to hear the arousing clink of a belt unbuckling, and the metallic screech against marble of the nearby bowl of your favorite frosting being pulled closer. White - to match the precum dribbling down his leaking cock.

The distinct feeling of something wet and achingly hard against your needy cunt.

Oh. Ah, it really was a sweet, sweet life.

♡ GETO SUGURU - The calligrapher

You didn’t exactly think the live calligraphy show your friend dragged you to was about to have you on the edge of your seat.

But here you were. 

Eyes locked on the way the tall figure onstage, clad in a dark yukata - sinfully slipping off to reveal a milky, toned shoulder. Geto Suguru exudes an air of raw sexuality that the entire audience was aware of, eyes not being able to decide between the masterpiece on the canvas or the masterpiece of a man on stage.

His fingers, long and agile, effortlessly over the bamboo pen. Each stroke a sensual caress, dark eyes pools of desire that match his long, flowing locks, and the inky characters on the page. 

Chest heaving with passion, with a final, dramatic sweep of his arm, Geto completes the last stroke. And as the audience erupts into applause, you merely stay rooted to your seat, thighs pressing together and breath caught in your throat - only one thought ringing in your mind.

You just had to have him.

Which is why you found yourself following your friend to the chaotic atmosphere backstage. But despite the buzz of activity, you could still hear Geto’s deep, velvety voice carrying through the crowd.

Pushing through the sea of people, “Ah! Long time no see, Geto-san. This is my friend, she really enjoyed your performance tonight,” your friend introduced, gesturing towards you.

Eyes gleaming he turns to you, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it very much.” you grin, batting your lashes. Relishing in the way Geto’s dark eyes appraise you from head to toe. Taking in every inch of you - and you do the same.

Geto’s eyes harden, as if deciding on something. “I’m flattered. Why don’t you two lovely ladies join me for some drinks with the crew?”

Yeah, you had to have him - you just didn’t think that would be so easy. 

Walls lined with paintings, the scent of ink and sin hung heavy in the air, as you two snuck away from the animated group downing celebratory shots. Geto’s hand hot in yours as he leads you down a dimly-lit corridor to “his favorite lil’ spot”, as he’d whispered to you. 

You could tell you were getting closer - because Geto promptly pulls you closer, hands grasping your waist possessively. 

“No turning back now, pretty girl.” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. 

“S’all I want, Suguru.” you mutter, desire coursing through you like a wildfire, pooling into something sticky and hot at your cunt. 

Perhaps seeing the pure, feral need in your eyes, Suguru murmurs, leaving no room for disagreement now, “Follow me.”

The room he led you to was heady with seductive candles, beautiful artwork lining the walls. His own - you assume, as Suguru leads you to a low wooden table in the center of the room. On it is a bottle of sake and two cups.

Movements fluid and precise, Suguru pours the sake, filling it to the brim. He hands it to you, eyes never leaving your face. “Drink up, pretty girl.” he hums, low and seductive. And honestly fuck stranger danger, how could you not when he looks at you like that?

So you drink, sake burning its way down your throat. Predatory eyes locked on you as you set down the cup, Suguru’s mouth quirks up into a sly grin around his as he asks, “Liked it?”

You’ve barely gotten out the nod - not trusting yourself to speak - before Suguru downs his shot abruptly, slamming down the cup with a thunk! 

Lips parting slightly, slender fingers squish your cheeks together into an almost-embarrasing pout. Forcing you to look up at him with an almost predatory grace as he looms closer. You don’t know if you should’ve expected the steady, warm stream of sake and saliva that hits your tongue. Sliding so obscenely down your throat. 

Guess Suguru Geto was filthy in bed where he was the embodiment of grace in public. 

It’s sweet on your tongue - both the sake and Suguru.

Eyes glassy, a mixture of sake and drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth - Suguru really can’t help the lips that come crashing down on yours, tongue plunging deep into your mouth. His tongue was relentless, keeping yours intertwined in a heady kiss. 

Arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer to his heated body. Hands tugging on your hair, mapping your curves. All the way up to cup your breasts, thumbs running tight, little circles around your perked nipples.

You moan into the heated kiss as something rock-hard pokes your thigh. Hand greedily grabbing at his yukata with the need for more. 

Breaking the kiss, Suguru’s breaths come in ragged gasps. “On your knees, pretty girl.” 

And what Geto Suguru wants, Geto Suguru gets. 

Which is why you were sat, eyes hungry and greedily watching the way Suguru slowly, and deliberately peels open the front of his yukata, exposing his toned torso. A sly grin curling his lips at you gape at his leaking cock, standing proud and achingly hard. Thick and unforgiving. 

Fuck, could you really take him in your mouth? He was at least twice as big as anyone else you’ve been with before…

“Open.” he orders, voice low and commanding and making your cunt clench so deliciously in anticipation. Suguru’s flushed tip pokes your lips - glossy with sake and saliva - precum salty on your tongue. God, he was huge. Parting your mouth wider, lips stretching around his length you desperately try to fuck him into your mouth - eager to please.

But it just wasn’t enough.

Because Suguru has a searing grip on your hair, holding your head steady as he pushed his cock all the way down your throat. Delicate veins throbbing against the roof of your mouth as he starts up a steady, merciless pace fucking your mouth as if you were nothing but a fucktoy. 

“C’mon now, you said s’all you want. Better act like it, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, pushing you impossibly further down so that your nose presses into the tufts of thick, black hair at his pelvis. Like delicate strokes of a fine art. Breathing in the heady, masculine scent so sinfully.

This man is a masterpiece, you think deliriously - completely cock-drunk as you gag around his length, eyes burning at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. Over and over. A ceaseless cadence you were losing your mind to. 

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, jus’ like that.” he hisses, as you tongue at his slit. Fingers deftly pressing around your neck to feel his dick ramming down your throat. 

The once-serene room rings with your pathetic, wet gurgles around Suguru’s cock and the smacking of skin on skin as his heavy balls hit your chin. “Take it, take it all.”

You moan, body arching as you claw at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Nails digging neat lines down his milky skin. Balls tightening, he thrusts animalistically into your mouth, each one deeper and harder than the last, cock sliding in and out of you brutally. 

Messy.

Saliva and precum drip down his length, dirtying his yukata. Tears streak down your cheeks onto Suguru’s wrist, fingers tightening ferally around your throat. Blood roaring in your ears, choking at both the throbbing cock and the hand blocking your airway.

 It was so fucking messy.

So it only made sense that Suguru’s orgasm was the same. 

With a guttural cry of your name, Suguru came in hot spurts of cum, shooting rope after rope down your ready throat as his cock pulsed and stuttered in your mouth. You felt so dirty, his seed pooling on your tongue. 

But he wasn’t done - no, far from it - pulling out from your abused mouth with a lewd pop! Twitching cock heavy on your face as he paints your face white. Hips bucking deliriously, a smug smirk playing on his lips at his masterpiece.

Face and mouth covered in his cum, fucked out enough that you basically had heart eyes looking at Suguru, you ready yourself to swallow it all. Needing to taste Suguru immediately.

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want.

Because Suguru drops to his knees, hand still tight around your throat as he captures your lips with his. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, forcing his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself. Tasting you. It was absolutely animalistic. 

A barely-lucid, disappointed whine leaves your swollen lips as he pulls away. Only to spit once. Twice. Three times on your face.

You flinch as wads of saliva and his cum hit your face, warm and dripping down your cheeks. Staining the pristine tatami mats below as they fall with a resounding tap! tap! tap!

And you gladly offer yourself up for the abuse. A fucked out smile spreading across your face as you take in the feeling of being so debauched by Suguru. Somewhat-delirious, you barely register the dark mutter against your ear, “Hope you’re not tapping out yet, pretty girl. I haven’t even gotten out my paintbrushes yet.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The yakuza boss

“Strip.”

Standing in the dimly lit room, red-hot irritation flashes behind your eyes as you bristle at the words falling out of his mouth - devastatingly handsome had it not been for that smug, leering smirk. 

Eyes half-lidded, long legs spread on that gaudy armchair, smoke falling from Sukuna’s lips as he stares at you intently. Eyes piercing through yours over his cigar. Demanding compliance. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you rip your gaze from his, flitting panickedly between the imposing yakuza boss in front of you - all alluring tattoos, and heavy, gold rings - and the glinting pistol that lay silently on one, muscular thigh.

You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin as your hands tremble, fumbling with those tedious buttons. Breathing heavy, nipples hardening - your top hits the floor. God, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into. 

Cursing your father’s debt, you move on to your pants. Desperately trying to avoid catching a glimpse of those blown-out pupils, something prickly and hot pooling in your stomach. Shit. You won’t start liking this - you refuse to start liking this. 

One by one, it falls away. Leaving you bare and completely exposed under Sukuna’s intense scrutiny. A low growl escapes his lips at the way your thighs clench together so sinfully, the sound sending shivers down your spine. 

“Come here, doll.” Low, raspy words that go straight to your cunt. But you steel yourself, heels clacking against the polished floor as you step closer. And closer. Watching the way he drinks in your naked form. 

But apparently too slow.

Before you can even react, a muscled arm reaches out, pulling you to fall into his waiting lap, straddling those toned hips. A jolt of electricity going through your body as you register the cold metal of the gun digging into your leg. 

Sukuna leans forward, the scent of tobacco and sin overwhelming your senses. “Dance f’me.”

Shit. How dare he talk to you this way - and how dare you let your pussy clench in anticipation at his demeaning tone.

Biting back a groan at the way your hardened nipples brush against his button-up, you tentatively roll your hips forward. A thrill going straight to your pussy as something long and thick presses against you. Involuntarily, you press closer, grinding against him. Hard.

Large, calloused hands find your ass. Squeezing roughly to pull you closer, rocking your hips back and forth on his throbbing erection. Back and forth back and forth back and-

Cool metal pressed against your skin - the barrel of his glinting gun pressed lightly against your forehead. Goosebumps erupt down your spine, painfully prickling at your skin as you realize just what the fuck he was doing. “As much as I love you humping me like a bitch in heat, doll. I asked you to dance f’me.” he murmurs, tone was positively dripping with something dark and dangerous.

Well, you think, gritting your teeth in determination. Might as well give the bastard what he asks for. 

Staring defiantly right into those darkened, intense eyes, you begin moving your body agonizingly slow. Hands tantalizingly tracing the outline of your body. Teasingly caressing the skin, sliding your fingers along your collarbone, down your rib cage, grazing your navel before slithering lower. Lower. 

Your soaked cunt forming a wet patch right on his straining erection. 

Sukuna’s eyes follow your every move - every circle of your hips down on his throbbing bulge. The corner of his mouth curving into a satisfied smile as he takes in the sight of you so sinful and shamefully exposed for him. 

The desire simmering beneath his composed exterior is basically palpable. 

And then, it snaps.

Suddenly, his arm snaps up, grabbing bruisingly at your waist. With a slow, deliberate motion, he takes a long drag of his cigar - blowing the smoke right in your face, the warm breath mingling with the heady air. 

Your surprised gasp is swallowed by his heated kiss, tongues wrestling as a hand digs into the tender skin of your neck. As if he owns you. 

Hips bucking wildly, and more frantically on Sukuna’s clothed cock - the expensive fabric of his pants now wet with your slick and his precum. You lose yourself in the moment.

But what you do register is the sharp unzipping of his pants. 

Snapping your eyes open, they meet with the large, leaking cock now pulsing in his hands, prominent veins glistening with precum that dribbles down his flushed head. Pulling away, you rip your gaze from his throbbing erection to look in his eyes - with what, fear? Anticipation? Both?

Sukuna lounges back on his armchair leisurely, relishing the way you watch - somewhat-awestruck - as his large hand begins moving in small, unhurried motions up and down his rock-hard length.

A harsh push of the barrel against your forehead snaps you out of your debauched reverie. “Didn’t tell ya to stop, did I, doll?” he hisses out, venomous and needy. 

The tension in the room is almost tangible, the air thick with lust and fear. As you watch the rhythmic jerks of Sukuna’s hand on his erect cock - up and down up and down up and- your body betrays you. 

Mind hazy with arousal, you place your hands on his shoulders, cunt clenching at the strong, defined muscle beneath your fingertips. You lean forward, lips meeting his in a desperate, desperate kiss. 

Pulling away, you reach for his heavy cock, wrapping your fingers around it, feeling it’s thickness and the heat. Sukuna lets out a low growl, eyes closing momentarily as you begin to stroke him in urgent, desperate tugs that have his hips bucking involuntarily.  

As you let him fuck your fist like his own personal fleshlight, you grind down against his thigh. Hard. His tight, twitching ball stimulating your clit just right as you get yourself off on Sukuna like a bitch in heat. 

Maybe it was the pure feral need in your hazy eyes - or maybe it was the way you lean your head into the gun pressing against your forehead - but Sukuna’s eyes widen, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. Only growing more amused by the second as you lean impossibly closer to take the cigar from his hand, placing it between your lips. 

Drawing deeply, inhaling the sweet, rich flavor of the tobacco. As you exhale, you deliberately blow the smoke into his face, the tendrils of vapor swirling around his beautiful features, mixing with the sweat and the scent of his cologne.

A deep bark of laughter makes Sukuna throw his head back - and you to clench around nothing on his lap. Hips becoming more and more animalistic against his. Your wrist now aching and wet with precum, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. 

Sukuna wraps his arm around you, pulling you close, his hand cupping your breast possessively. The other surges back with the gun on your forehead - where it had been faltering from pleasure before. “Make us come within the next five seconds before I blow your head off, doll.”

One.

Your fingers tighten around his cock, milking him. Movements from both ends become more and more filthy with the need to release.

Two.

You cup his heavy balls in your hands, clit catching on his zipper and making you mewl at the stimulation.

Three.

A thumb pressing down between his balls, hard. Hips stuttering with your impending release, losing your mind with each stroke.

Four.

Sukuna body goes rigid, choking on what sounds like your name, bottom lip catching between his teeth as he throws his head back and-

Five.

Cums all over your fist, thick, hot spurts of seed that paint your hands white. Splattering on your palm, and onto the chair below. You not too far behind as your body bows into his, stars behind your eyes as you chase peak after peak grinding down on his lap. You shudder, release taking everything out of you until it’s nothing more than mere tingles. 

A finger on the trigger. Pulling. 

Click! 

As Sukuna’s maniacal laughter rings in the heady room, you blink away the haze of your orgasm as you realizing with a jolt that there were no fucking bullets. 

Yet this bastard shot you anyway.

Skin heated against yours, lips ghosting your ear as Sukuna whispers. Low and gravelly. 

“I don’t need a gun to kill, doll.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The professor

“You see, I really, really need this A to pass, sir.” you bat your lashes innocently, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. 

Short skirt hiking up as you lean over the desk in Professor Gojo’s stuffy office. Making sure that tight top you purposefully wore lets those striking blue eyes see a perfect view of your breasts - no bra today, of course. 

Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice. 

Success. 

Yet, Professor Gojo’s easy grin stays steadfast, “Well, maybe you should have studied harder then, hm?” You’d almost be fooled by his little act, yet your eyes catch the way he subtly crosses his legs, something stirring in those alluring cerulean eyes as he looks up at you through his lashes.

Deciding to play along, huffing as you cross your arms across your chest, “I did, maybe you should just let me take on an assignment for extra credit.”

His eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows raising in question, “What kind of assignment?”

You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk at the way he makes it so easy for you. Reaching out immediately to trace a thumb across his full lips, leaning down far enough that your tits were basically spilling out of your top now. 

“The one where you fuck me, right here. Right now, on this desk.”

You could feel his pulse quickening against your hand, voice strained with need. “I should fail you right now for this.”

Brushing your lips against his earlobe, you whisper, “But you won’t, sir.”

Before you can react, in one, fluid motion strong arms lift you off the desk to splay you out so sinfully on it. You almost get whiplash from his pure strength, brought back only by the feeling of his muscular thighs warm against your ass. 

“If you want that A, then prove how badly you need it.” 

Your heart races as you nod, cheeks flaring with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. With a feral grin, you spread your legs apart, toying with that soaked g-string - exposing your bare pussy. Beads of slick pooling underneath you on the desk as the way Gojo’s eyes harden as you clench around nothing. 

You trail your hands enticingly down, down down. A delicate finger swiping at your folds, collecting your juices - popping right into your mouth. A smug huff of laughter leaves you at the way Gojo’s mouth drops into a surprised oh!

“You’re such a lil’ fucking minx, princess.”

You needed him now. 

Rubbing your thumb over your swollen clit, index finger bullying its way into your snug cunt the way you wanted Gojo to. You gasp, arching your back as waves of pleasure, “Oh, sir! Mmm- feel s’good inside me. Want more- hah-”

Pornographic whines of pleasure send blood rushing straight to Gojo’s cock. He was losing his mind at your little show. He was going insane.

“Your turn now.” you mewl, 

Your hungry gaze was locked with Gojo’s as he stands, removing his belt and unbuckling his pants. Your eyes follow the movement greedily, mouth watering at the impressive size of his erection. Leaking tip furiously flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Delicate beads of precum smearing on the frantic, jerky movements of his fist up and down and up and down and-

It’s a silent staredown. Your fingers matching the delicious rhythm of his fist, urgently fucking yourselves to each other. Trying to see who would break first. Up and down up and down - in and out in and out. Faster. 

“Didn’t think you were all talk, sir.”

That’s what makes the great Gojo Satoru break. Surging forward in hasty steps, your hands pinned to the cold surface of the desk, pussy now quivering in loneliness. 

Smack!

“Count to five, then I’ll give what you want. If you can’t even do that then I don’t think you deserve an A, princess.”

“O-one.” You whine at the harsh hand that smacks your ass, large handprint stinging into your searing skin. 

“This the hand?” Gojo whispers, voice ragged. Inspecting your hands before his tongue sticks out to lick a long, languid stripe up your fingers, pooling your juices on his tongue. Pretty blue eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks your fingers clean so filthily. 

Electricity courses through your veins as his long fingers deftly rip off your flimsy g-string, pocketing it safely in his work pants. You have half the mind to snark about it before you register Gojo’s throbbing cock flush against your pussy, leaking tip teasing in between your dripping folds leisurely. 

Your slick mixing with his precum, trailing down down down his glistening length, pooling on where he tightly gripped his base - splattering onto the hardwood office floor with a deafening tap! tap! tap! that matched the heartbeat in your ears. 

“Beg for it, princess.”

“Hmmm, no.”

Smack! Smack! 

“Ah! Three! Hah- please, sir.”

You didn’t even know exactly what you were begging for - but you got exactly what you wanted. Breath catching in your throat at the way Gojo pushed into you with a raspy grunt, cock hot and heavy against your fluttering walls. 

His sheer size makes you feel like you’ll split apart any second now, but oh how you desperately wanted to be broken by him. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Gojo began to thrust. Shallow, mindless strokes, each one just to drive his enormous cock deeper to fit into your snug, ravaged cunt. 

“Fuck me, please, sir. Need you feel me up insi-”

Smack! 

“...four.” you whisper, voice strained with need and frustration.

Ass sore, marks probably there for days. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as Gojo loses grip on his restraint - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. Sheathing himself inside your dripping heaven till his heavy balls smacked your clit, your ass flush against the neat tufts of white at his pelvis. 

Wasting no time, Gojo starts up at an uncontrollable, merciless pace, every inch of him being forced all the way into your snug pussy. Your walls suck him up greedily as his prominent veins throb and graze just right on all your sweet spots. 

“This what you wanted, princess?” he rasps out, pace unwavering. “This is what you wanted, right? To be fucked like the pretty little slut that you are, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, please, sir.”

Each ramming of his cock drives you further and further up the cold desk, a pathetic little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth at each slam. Knees weakened by his relentless pounding, you didn’t know how you were gonna hold yourself up anymore-

Ah, but you didn’t have to. Gojo Satoru, ever the gentleman, wrapped a single, muscular arm under your hips, kneading the skin underneath his fingertips, fucking you deeper onto his cock as if you were his personal fucktoy.  

“Oh fuck! Hngh- sir, right there.” you yelp at the new angle, his furiously flushed tip kissing your cervix so painfully good, g-spot abused as he grazes it over and over. 

Smack!

“Ah, sir! Five-”

And then you’re cumming. Hips pushing back animalistically, fucking yourself through your high. Chasing peak after peak.

Boneless and exhausting, dripping cunt clamping down on him you mewl, “Fill me up inside, sir! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs.” At the sound of your voice, Gojo’s eyes rolled back, his features contorted in pure ecstasy as his cock twitches savagely inside you, finally letting himself release. Cum gushing out in thick, pulsating spurts.

Filling your abused pussy to the brim, coating your walls an obscene white. Gojo keeps fucking himself through it, milking even the last drops of his length on your cunt. Breaths ragged, hips animalistic, low murmurs of your name leaving his lips. 

And as his climax bates into nothing more but mere tingles, lust-hazed, tired ears catch the distant knocking from outside. Ah, right that appointment.

Blinking back the vision to his eyes, he looks down at you. All fucked-out, swollen lips pouty, and his cum dribbling enticingly down your thighs. Oh how he just wants to bite into you - or have half the mind to just send you out there like this to show all those college losers who you belong to. 

Or, he thinks, eyes twinkling as he looks down at the generously large space under his desk.

You catch his gaze, a dangerous glint in them as he maps every curve and dip of your body. Marked and so very obviously his. Your pretty lips falling into a soft oh! as you realize just what idea was forming behind those darkened blue eyes. 

“Come in.”

Before you know it, you’re shoved hastily under the desk, Gojo’s still-furiously flushed tip kissing your bruised lips as the door swings open. God, if every assignment was like this then you’d probably end up valedictorian…

A/N. Can’t believe this got me b@nned for like a hour bro pls.

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[tojiphile]

thinking about big boys who make it fit. you try to protest, fidget and squirm out of his calloused hands but he grips your waist firmly, pulling you back towards him.

“my darling girl,” he coos, “don’t you trust me?” he brushes a stray hair out of your face, wiping the tears streamed down furiously, your eyes squeezed shut. he laughs and presses a large hand to your stomach, “you’ll be a good girl for daddy, won’t you?”

through sobs, you find the strength to nod as he aligns himself at your entrance. he uses his thick fingers to spread your soaking cunt, the other hand guiding himself in slowly. “that’s it baby, you got this.” his fat cock inches his way in, and you feel the stretch, clenching down on him, shaking your head as if in a trance. he shushes you, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. “relax, it’ll hurt less.”

you heed his words and release the tension in your stomach. he audibly sighs as he continues pushing his way into you, causing you to whimper until the tip of his dick has pressed up against your cervix. satisfied, he traces the outline his cock is leaving in your tummy, giving it a squeeze as you barely get out the words, “so- full!” he laughs and grips your waist, pulling you off his cock and making you gasp at the sudden movement. before you have time to protest, he’s slamming himself into you again, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass and both your groans fill the room. your cries of pain seem to only spur him on as he continues thrusting into you harshly.

“look at me,” he pants, “look at me while i fuck you silly.” you open your eyes only to meet his, then quickly shutting them in embarrassment. he laughs, “look at my sweet, darling girl, being fucked like the whore she is.” you whine in response but release a gasp when his fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing in quick circles and forcing your stomach to clench up. “don’t cum yet, my darling, hold it there, wait for me.”

you try your best to not cum, squirming from both the pain of him bottoming out and the pleasure from him toying with your sensitive bud. “i’m close baby, just say my name. say my name.” he can’t tell if you’re obedient, or just too fucked out to do anything but obey but when you cry out “daddy!” it’s all over for him.

“now.” he presses the bulge in your stomach down and you can feel the orgasmic joy washing over you like blinding lights, your body shaking, absolutely overwhelmed by him. he fucks you like a man in heat, bottomming out as he reaches his peak, gripping you hard. you can feel the warmth of his cum spreading in your cunt as he collapses on you, kissing your cheek.

TOJI FUSHIGURO, gojo satoru, geto suguru, TODO AOI, bokuto kotaru, TERUSHIMA YUJI, kaeya, ARATAKI ITTO, childe

[sunsburns]

been thinking about dating college!art and you get into a really big fight until he decides to show up at your dorm *cough* make up sex *cough*

i had wayy too much fun with this… SMUT 17+

“i’m still mad at you, you know.” there’s no real bite to your bark, not when your voice is breathless, your cheeks are flushed, and your hands keep running through his hair.

“yeah, i know,” art drawls, his voice softening. he says it because a part of him knows it’s true, but he can’t help the faint smile that grows on his face. he knows you won’t stay mad for long, but he still feels the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. he’d do anything to make it up to you. with every press of his lips, he mutters a quiet “i’m sorry,” against your skin, then grazes his teeth along your ankle before making his way up your leg.

he’d thought of a million different things to say to you, how he would stand his ground or cave to your defences. but all of it was thrown out the window the moment you opened that door. you were wearing his shirt—or maybe it was patrick’s, maybe even tashi’s—and a pair of panties. the sight of your messy desk, covered in textbooks, notebooks, and your open laptop, reminded him you were doing homework, or trying to. but the ache in his chest at the thought of you hating him was overwhelming.

it was killing him knowing you were upset, and he was the cause of it. that’s why art had taken a trip to the nearest farmer’s market the moment he was off the court, and he bought you flowers and your favourite snack and knocked on your door.

now the flowers are forgotten by your desk, the snacks on the floor, and you’re still trying to keep up the act that you’re mad at art. but the truth is, you can’t even remember what you were mad at him about in the first place. 

the way he looks at you, with such earnest remorse and tenderness, makes it hard to hold onto your anger. you sigh, running your fingers through his hair again, feeling the tension between you start to melt away.

“i hate how you do this to me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. art’s eyes meet yours, and he pauses, his lips hovering just above your knee.

“i know,” he says again, his voice filled with a mix of regret and hope. his hands roam up the sides of your thighs, fingers brushing your ass before they turn into the curve between your legs. “but i’m here now,” he presses a kiss against your hot skin again, making his way up, up, and up. “and i want to make it right.”

as he continues his gentle kisses, moving slowly and tenderly, you feel your defences crumbling. the anger that once felt so strong is now just a distant memory. art’s presence, his touch, his voice, his words, all of him- it’s all you can think about.

he looks up at you, sitting on the bed while he kneels before you. you’re watching him, waiting for his next move when he is still between your legs. 

when you run your nails against his scalp, art doesn't bother hiding the quiet whimper that slips past his lips before he closes his eyes and leans his head towards your arm. 

he lets you hold him while his hands trail up your sides, reaching and groping anything he can before his fingers tug at your panties, and he carefully slips them off you.

when he kisses your clit, you rest your leg over his shoulder, heel pressing against the muscles of his back. his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer while he starts to eat you out. 

art starts slow, calculated strokes of his tongue against you, running it in tight circles against your clit, dipping it lower when he gets a little more confident. when you arch your back and whine, pushing his head closer so you can ride his face, he starts to pick up the pace, hoping to hear that sound come out of you again.

when his tongue pokes at your cunt, it draws a loud moan out of you, blood rushing to your ears. “fuck, art,” you whimper, grinding against his face. “feels so good.”

art seems to like it more than you, eyes closed in bliss, humming and moaning against your cunt, each vibration from his mouth making you spiral. his hips buck up into nothing, but he doesn't seem to mind as his hands hold onto you tighter, as if he is afraid to lose you. 

“you’re so pretty like this,” you barely manage to get out, your heart thumping against your chest.

art moans again at your praise and finally opens his eyes to meet your burning gaze. his low, nearly pathetic whine with his eyes on you was what it took to push you over the edge.

art lets you ride it out, he lets you grind against his face, he lets you use him again and again and again until you’ve had your fill and there is nothing left of him.

and when you cup his cheeks and bring his face to yours and kiss him like you have a one-track mind, he has an inkling feeling that you're not mad at him anymore. you press your forehead against his, hand cupping the back of his neck, and he lets out a sigh and you breathe it in. 

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, one more time, to make sure you know he means it.

you smile, offering him half a shrug and another kiss. “just let me return the favour.”

[glitterycvm]

PRETTY BOY MOANS₊˚⊹♡

(izuku x reader smut)

synopsis: your boyfriend is embarrassed about his pretty moans, guess you'll have to force them out of him.

warnings: AGED UP IZUKU !! handjob, blowjob, mommykink, subizuku, pervizuku,domreader, whimpering

a/n: I heard a whimper audio on tt, and it reminded me of izuku so...

"p-please-" izuku whines, his voice shaky and strained. his hand reaching for a fistful of your hair as you sucked the soul out of the green haired boy.

your tongue swirled around his tip, his glossy baby pink tip which just had crystal white streams of precum oozing from the slit. you noticed every time your tongue even went near his tip, he would cry out so lewdly, the sounds rivaling those of porn videos.

you and izuku hadn't been too intimate with each other, you guys had only started dating 6 months ago and it never really came up. you two just chose to ignore the obvious whimpers and breathy maons which came from the other side the phone.

the two of you had crazy sexual tension, but izuku was so shy about it. of course he already had thousands of daydreams about how he would pound into you so harshly all you could do is scream out his name, or just erotic thoughts of eating you out on his bed. your sweet arousal coating his lips as he ate you out like he was starved. he dreamt of overstimulating you so much that the only thing that would go through your mind that night was him.

naturally you were fed up with the whole waiting game. you needed to feel his cock thrusting in and out of you, not your fingers. you wondered how it would feel, how it would feel to have him in you, his pelvis meeting your clit every single thrust as he rammed into you from the back. oh the thoughts of his pretty little groans which always rang through your ears. you just had to initiate sex tonight.

and so you did, what went from a steamy makeout session to izuku, laid back against his chair as you say on your knees. in-between his legs, hands covering his cock and saliva dripping all over his length.

izuku couldn't believe the sight before him, he always dreamt about this very moment, seeing you right in-between his legs, your gentle soft hands just jerking himself so well it took everything in him not to cum right there. he watched as your mouth took him in, the wet and warm sensation making him shudder. your puffy rosy pink lips wrapping around the base, coating the shaft with your spit. he knew he was big too, so watching you struggle to take all of him in your mouth, even admiring the imprint of his dick through the side of your cheek just fueled his ego. watchin those glossy eyes stare up at him so innocently, you would be the death of him.

you quickened your pace, making sure that your rough tongue just grazed his tip in that one spot, eagerly waiting for him to reach his peak. izuku bit down hard on his bottom lip, suppressing his dirty moans. you glare back up at him, "aww don't tell me ya getting shy now baby..." you coo, hands sloppily rising up and down.

he shuts his eyes close, clearly embarrassed of his noises. but you, nah you weren't having it. you slap his thigh lightly, though hard enough so you could grab his attention. "if you wanna cum tonight, you better not hold back any of those pretty noises" you warn, eyes coldly staring his.

izuku wasn't sure what to feel right now, he was nervous. he has never seen you so stern and demanding, but every part of him loved it. "m'sorry!.." he groans, the feeling of your mouth overwhelming his mind once again.

you could feel him twitch under you, his thighs shaking and his cries growing my frantic and whiney. "mm- fuck- fuck- fuck-" he cries, the words mushing together as your hand strokes him swiftly. "m'so so close mommy, just l-like that-" he whines out. you giggle, eyes batting up at him so sweetly. izuku groans at the sight "f-fuck mommy can I please cum in?" he whines, his sweet kind eyes staring right into yours.

you smile warmly "anything for my sweet boy, cmon cum for mommy like a good boy" you call out, mouth tangling around his length again. and that's all izuku needed, moaning out strained cusses under his breath as he came in your mouth. his cum spurts quickly, it was thick and a semi opaque white. you make sure to stare at his hazy eyes as you swallow all of his semen, him watching you still so lustfully. all before whispering

"it's your turn now princess, let me make ya feel good"

[reidmarieprentiss]

Not Her

Summary: Reader can't figure out why Spencer doesn't like her, Spencer doesn't know how to tell her it's not her fault.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: camping, being stuck, wilderness, swimming in underwear, teasing, talks of bullying, insecurities, mild aggression from a male (not spencer), small injury

Word count: 16.6k

a/n: i want to go camping with spencer sooo bad he would be so nerdy and useful

main masterlist

From the moment you joined the BAU, it was obvious that you were entering a tightly knit group. The closeness between the team members was clear, and while you didn’t expect to be everyone’s best friend right off the bat, you were determined to fit in. You took time to get to know everyone, learning their quirks, their likes, and dislikes, hoping to carve out your place within the team.

With Derek, you found an easy-going rapport. His playful nature and quick wit made it easy to banter back and forth. JJ was kind and welcoming, often making a point to include you in conversations or to check in on how you were adjusting. Penelope was a whirlwind of energy, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself swept up in her vibrant world of tech and color. Rossi felt like a wise uncle who loved everyone on the team as his own. Alex was someone who acted as an older sister to you and whom you looked up to very much, and Hotch, though stern, had a way of making you feel like you were a valuable part of the team.

But Spencer Reid… he was different.

From the start, there was a disconnect. It wasn’t as if he was openly hostile or dismissive—he was far too professional for that. But there was something in the way he avoided your gaze during meetings, or how he seemed to drift to the opposite side of the room whenever you entered. You had caught him, more than once, excusing himself from a conversation as you approached, as if the mere prospect of talking to you was something he couldn’t bear.

At first, you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that he was just shy or perhaps overwhelmed by the demands of the job. After all, you knew that Spencer wasn’t the most socially adept person in the world. But as time went on, the distance between you and him became more apparent, and it started to gnaw at you.

You didn’t need everyone to like you. You had learned long ago that such a goal was impossible, especially in a high-stakes environment like the BAU. But the way Spencer acted around you—like he could barely stand to be in the same room—was something you couldn’t ignore. You were both professionals, and you could work together when necessary, but it was clear that there was a barrier between you, one that wasn’t present with the rest of the team.

You found yourself replaying your interactions with him over and over in your mind, trying to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. Was it something you had said? Something you had done? Had you offended him without realizing it? Every smile you offered that went unreturned, every attempt at conversation that fizzled out into uncomfortable silence, only deepened the mystery.

—

The whole team could see the ridge between you and Spencer, but no one was any more privy to its cause than you were. Naturally, they had asked, each of them trying to get to the bottom of the tension, but Spencer always brushed it off, insisting he had nothing against you. And technically, he wasn’t lying—it wasn’t you he had a problem with.

The team had noticed the rift between you and Spencer early on. It was impossible to ignore, especially in a group as close-knit as the BAU. And so, they took it upon themselves to try and bridge the gap, often resorting to what they jokingly referred to as “parent trapping” the two of you.

Whenever the team needed to double up on rooms during cases, you and Spencer were always the ones paired together. If there were assignments to be handled in pairs, it was somehow always the two of you that got teamed up. On the jet or at the round table, there would only be one spot left for each of you, forcing you to sit side by side. And then there were the bar nights—group outings where, mysteriously, everyone else would bail out at the last minute, leaving just you and Spencer nursing your drinks awkwardly.

But despite their best efforts, nothing seemed to work. Spencer wasn’t warming up to you, no matter how many times you ended up in forced proximity. The wall between you remained as solid as ever, and eventually, you stopped trying to break through it. You resigned yourself to the fact that whatever issue he had with you, it wasn’t something you could change. 

However, Rossi—always the wise, seasoned veteran—was not ready to give up just yet. He had one last trick up his sleeve, one final attempt to get you and Spencer to break through the barrier between you. 

A team bonding camping excursion.

It was the perfect setup. Out in the wilderness, away from the usual comforts and distractions of your everyday lives, you would all be forced to rely on each other. And maybe, just maybe, the isolation would do what all the previous attempts had failed to achieve. 

But here’s the final kicker—when the day of the camping trip arrived, everyone else conveniently piled into cars together, leaving you and Spencer to drive alone in your car. You noticed the sly looks exchanged between your teammates as they handed out the keys, but before you could protest, Spencer was already sliding into the passenger seat of your vehicle.

Just as you were about to follow the convoy of cars out of the parking lot, Rossi strolled over to your window, an easygoing smile on his face. He handed you a printed sheet of directions, different from the ones the others had received. 

"Just in case you get separated," he said with a wink, his tone far too innocent. 

You couldn't shake the feeling that Rossi had planned this down to the last detail. Of course, you and Spencer wouldn’t just be separated from the group—you’d be on an entirely different route, one that would give you no choice but to spend even more time together, alone and without the safety net of your other teammates.

As you pulled out of the lot, Spencer sat quietly beside you, his eyes trained on the passing scenery. The silence in the car was heavy, almost suffocating, but there was nothing you could do now. You were in this together, whether either of you liked it or not. 

And as the miles stretched out ahead of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what Rossi had in mind, and if this final trick up his sleeve would finally be the one to force Spencer to open up—or if it would just deepen the divide between you.

—

The campsite was a solid three hours away, and while the drive was scenic enough, it didn't change the fact that you had a small bladder and a penchant for drinking a lot of water and coffee. It was inevitable that you'd need to make a pit stop before reaching your destination. 

As you glanced at the time on the dashboard and then at the half-empty travel mug in the cupholder, you sighed internally. You’d need to pull over soon. The thought of having to break the silence yet again didn’t exactly thrill you, but the discomfort was starting to outweigh your hesitation.

“Reid,” you said, breaking the quiet that had settled over the car. “I’m going to stop and use the restroom. Want me to grab you anything?”

Spencer, who had been quietly absorbed in the book he was reading, glanced up briefly, his expression neutral. “No, thank you,” he replied politely before returning his attention to the pages in front of him.

You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and pulled off at the next rest stop. As you parked and unbuckled your seatbelt, you tried not to dwell on the strained exchange. It wasn’t much different from the countless other interactions you’d had with Spencer—brief, polite, and devoid of any real connection. 

—

You’d been driving for what felt like ages, the occasional road sign the only indication that you were getting closer to your destination. You were determined to reach the campsite without any further detours, but the unfamiliar roads and winding paths made it easy to second-guess yourself.

“Reid,” you said, breaking the silence again that had settled back over the car like a heavy blanket. “I think we’re getting close. Can you give me directions, please?”

Spencer looked up from his book, blinking a few times as he refocused on the world outside. “Yeah,” he replied simply, his voice still carrying that same detached tone.

He reached for the directions Rossi had given you earlier, unfolding the paper and scanning the instructions. His finger traced the lines of text as he read through the details, his brow furrowing slightly as he calculated the next turn.

“Take the next left,” he instructed, his eyes flicking up to the road ahead. “And then, after about two miles, there should be a right turn onto a dirt road. That should lead us directly to the campsite.”

“Got it,” you said, following his directions carefully, hoping that this final stretch would be as straightforward as he made it sound.

As you turned onto the narrow, winding road Spencer had pointed out, the trees began to close in around you, their dense foliage casting dappled shadows on the path. The silence returned, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird. You glanced over at Spencer, who was once again absorbed in his book, his focus seemingly unshakeable.

You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. Did he realize how obvious the team’s attempts at pushing you two together were? Or was he simply indifferent to it all, content to keep you at arm’s length? 

—

“Okay…” you mumbled under your breath as you pulled into what looked like a campsite. The trees parted just enough to reveal a small clearing, but the emptiness of it made you hesitate. The gravel crunched under the tires as you rolled to a stop, and you squinted through the windshield, scanning the area. “This should be the place… Do you see anyone else?”

Spencer lifted his gaze from his book, his eyes narrowing as he looked around the deserted clearing. “Uh, no. No, I do not.”

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You leaned forward, double-checking the area, but it was clear—you and Spencer were the only ones there. “Did I take a wrong turn?”

“Not according to the directions,” Spencer replied, his voice calm but not particularly reassuring.

You let out a slow breath, trying to push down the rising anxiety. “Maybe we beat them here?”

“That’s unlikely,” Spencer said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Due to the number of times you pulled over for the restroom.”

You couldn’t help the slight flush that crept up your neck at his blunt observation. “Right,” you said, your voice tight as you tried to figure out what to do next. “So… what do we do now? Should we wait for them to show up?”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes flicking back to the directions. “It’s possible they took a different route. But considering how empty this place is, I’d say we’re either very early, or we’re not at the right site.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, feeling the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders. “Great. Just great. I’ll give Rossi a call,” you muttered, more to yourself than to Spencer, as you reached for your phone. The screen lit up, but when you glanced at the signal bar, your stomach dropped—no signal. “Uh, do you happen to have a signal on your cellphone?”

Spencer pulled his phone from his pocket and checked, his brow furrowing as he studied the screen. After a moment, he sighed, the sound tinged with resignation. “Nope.”

“Fantastic,” you said, the sarcasm barely masking your frustration. “Should we wait for a bit and see if anyone else shows up?”

Spencer considered the suggestion, his gaze drifting back to the empty clearing. “That seems like the best choice right now,” he agreed, his voice steady but lacking any real optimism.

With nothing else to do, you both settled into the uncomfortable silence, the quiet only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The minutes stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last as you both kept your eyes on the road, hoping to see the rest of the team’s cars pull in. But the road remained empty, and the only company you had was the uneasy tension that had settled between you.

If this was Rossi’s idea of getting you and Spencer to bond, it was off to a rocky start.

—

The campsite in front of you looked serene and peaceful, bathed in the soft light filtering through the towering trees. The fire pit in the center was surrounded by a few scattered logs, perfect for sitting around and enjoying the warmth of a campfire. Despite its picturesque setting, the site was eerily empty, with no sign of the team anywhere.

Eventually, you heard the sound of Spencer unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. The soft click of the door opening made you glance over. “What are you doing?” you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Getting out,” Spencer replied simply as he stepped onto the gravel. “I want to stretch my legs.”

You nodded, realizing that was a good idea. “Yeah, good idea,” you agreed, your tone a bit lighter now. The tension of being cooped up in the car with nothing but silence between you two was beginning to wear on you. 

You both got out of the car, the fresh air a welcome change after the long drive. As you stood there, taking in the surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a bit more relaxed. The forest around you was alive with the sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the faint crackle of the fire pit from when it was last used.

Spencer moved toward the center of the campsite, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around. “It’s a nice spot,” he commented, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation.

You walked a little closer to him, scanning the area for any signs of the team. “Yeah,” you agreed, though the emptiness still gnawed at you. “But it’s weird that no one else is here yet.”

Spencer nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “Maybe they’re just running late. Or they took a different route like I said before.”

You glanced back at the car, then around the site again. It was hard to shake the feeling that something was off, but there wasn’t much you could do about it now. “Well, at least it’s peaceful,” you said, trying to focus on the positive.

Spencer gave a small nod, seemingly content to stand there in the stillness of the forest. Despite the lingering uncertainty, there was something calming about the solitude, and for a moment, the silence between you felt less strained and more comfortable.

—

As the sun dipped lower behind the trees, casting long shadows across the campsite, you felt a growing sense of unease. The emptiness of the site was now coupled with the approaching darkness, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. You finally voiced your concern, unable to keep it to yourself any longer. “Spencer, they’re obviously not coming. Should we drive around? Look for a fire? Or just head home?”

Spencer, who had been pacing slightly near the car, stopped and looked at you, his expression conflicted. “I don’t—I don’t know what we should do,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly, a rare display of uncertainty from him.

You bit your lip, weighing the options. None of them seemed particularly appealing, especially as the light continued to fade. “Okay… do you just want to set up here for the night and figure it out in the morning?”

“Umm… yeah,” he agreed after a moment, though his tone was far from confident. “Do you mind if I sleep in the car?”

That caught you off guard. “Sure…” you replied slowly, trying to mask your surprise. Spencer had always been an enigma, but this felt particularly strange. It wasn’t like him to be so unsettled.

Alas, you pushed the oddness aside and decided to focus on the practical. You set about pitching your tent, the familiar motions calming your nerves slightly. Once it was up, you ducked inside to change into your pajamas, eager to get a fire going and start making some food. The pangs of hunger were beginning to make themselves known, and you knew you needed to eat something soon.

When you emerged from the tent, you glanced over at Spencer, who was standing by the car, arms crossed, looking even more out of place than usual. “Spencer, you can use my tent to change if you want,” you offered, trying to bridge the gap between you.

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he replied quickly, almost too quickly. His refusal struck you as odd, adding to the growing list of things that didn’t seem right about this situation.

“Would you mind getting the cooler from the boot then?” you asked, hoping to keep things moving forward, even if everything else felt off.

Spencer nodded and moved to the back of the car, retrieving the cooler with a quiet efficiency. But as you started preparing the food, you couldn’t help but notice how closely he was watching you. His gaze was intense, almost as if he was studying you—or perhaps watching out for something.

It was unsettling, to say the least. You tried to brush it off, focusing on the task at hand, but it was difficult to ignore the prickling sensation of being observed so intently. “Everything okay?” you asked casually as you stirred the food, hoping to ease some of the tension.

Spencer blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever thoughts had been occupying his mind. “Yeah,” he said, though his tone wasn’t entirely convincing. 

You paused for a moment, considering his words. While it wasn’t unusual for Spencer to be cautious, the way he was acting now felt different—like he was on edge, anticipating something. “Let’s eat and get some rest. We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

He nodded, but the unease didn’t leave his eyes. As you finished cooking and began to serve up the food, you couldn’t help but wonder what had Spencer so spooked—and whether you should be more concerned than you already were.

—

That night, Spencer stuck to his word and slept in the car with the doors locked. You couldn’t help but feel a little puzzled by his behavior—he seemed so on edge, far more than you’d ever seen him, and it left you wondering why he had agreed to come camping in the first place. The idea of him spending the night in a locked car instead of enjoying the fresh air and the open sky was odd, to say the least. 

But despite the lingering unease, you slept surprisingly well. Camping had always been something you loved—the scent of the pine trees, the sounds of the forest, the cool breeze that swept through the tent—all of it made you feel at peace. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl, and you drifted off easily, wrapped in your sleeping bag.

When you woke the next morning, the sun was already casting a warm glow over the campsite. You stretched, feeling refreshed, and emerged from your tent to find Spencer already awake. He was crouched by a small fire, a pot of instant coffee brewing over the flames. The sight of him tending to the fire, his movements precise and deliberate, was a little surprising. It was clear that he hadn’t slept much—if at all.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you walked over to him.

“Morning,” Spencer replied, his voice calm but still carrying that edge of tension.

You sat down on one of the logs near the fire, enjoying the warmth it provided as you shook off the last remnants of sleep. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, trying to gauge his mood.

“Fine,” he answered shortly, though you weren’t convinced. “You?”

“Really good,” you said with a small smile. “I love the fresh air. There’s just something about being out here that makes everything feel better.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze fixed on the pot of coffee as he stirred it. “Yeah, fresh air is good,” he said absently, though his tone lacked the enthusiasm you had.

You watched him for a moment, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the way he seemed to be holding himself together with sheer willpower. Something was definitely off, but you weren’t sure how to address it without making him uncomfortable. “Spencer,” you began cautiously, “is everything okay? You seem… different.”

He paused, the spoon in his hand stilling as he considered your question. After a long moment, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I just… I don’t like the idea of being out here without the rest of the team. It doesn’t feel right.”

His admission caught you off guard. You knew Spencer was meticulous, always needing to have control over the details, but you hadn’t realized just how much this situation was affecting him. “I get that,” you said softly, trying to offer some reassurance. “But we’re safe here, and we’ll figure things out. Maybe we’ll hear from them once we’re back in range.”

Spencer gave a small nod, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Yeah, maybe,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You decided to let the conversation drop, not wanting to push him further. Instead, you focused on the comforting smell of coffee and the crackling of the fire. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the trees, casting a golden light over the campsite. For a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, taking in the peaceful surroundings.

But as you glanced around the site, something caught your eye—a piece of paper tacked to a tree, fluttering slightly in the breeze. “Hey, did you see that?” you asked, pointing towards it.

Before Spencer could answer, you were already on your feet, walking towards the tree. The paper was pinned to the bark with a small tack, and as you pulled it down, you quickly scanned the handwritten note. Your eyes widened as you read the familiar handwriting, the message becoming clear.

Hey guys!

I know you’ll be mad about this, but please see it from our point of view. We sent you two to a separate site, please talk through your issues, we are a team and we need to be able to trust each other. Obviously, we can’t force you to stay, but if you do come home early, you will each have to take two paid days off. No work. 

Please, work it out.

You stared at the note in disbelief for a moment, the words sinking in. This whole thing—Rossi’s directions, the empty campsite, the strange sense of being set up—it had all been orchestrated by the team. They had sent you and Spencer to a completely different site, forcing you into isolation together with the clear intention that you’d hash out whatever had been causing the rift between you.

You turned back to Spencer, holding the note up so he could see it. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, frustration and disbelief coloring your voice.

Spencer stood up and walked over, taking the paper from your hand. His eyes quickly scanned the note, and you could see the tension in his shoulders as he realized what had happened. “They… they set us up,” he said quietly, his voice laced with irritation and something else—maybe betrayal.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you replied, crossing your arms as you processed the situation. “They’re basically holding us hostage until we ‘work it out.’”

Spencer shook his head, clearly struggling with the realization. “They can’t just force us to talk. We’re not children.”

“Apparently, they think we need to be treated like we are,” you replied, the frustration in your voice mirroring his. 

He remained silent, his eyes still fixed on the note as if it might offer some sort of solution. The fire crackled behind you, the only sound breaking the heavy tension that had settled between the two of you. The note in his hand felt like a ticking time bomb, and you both knew there was no avoiding the conversation any longer.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. This wasn’t how you had envisioned things going, but there was no turning back now. “Spencer… should we just talk about it?” you asked, your voice softer, almost pleading.

“About what?” he replied, still not meeting your eyes, his tone flat and defensive.

“Come on… please,” you urged, trying to keep your frustration at bay. You needed to get to the bottom of this, once and for all. “Did I do something to you?”

“No,” he answered quickly, his voice sharp with finality.

“But you don’t like me,” you pressed, feeling the frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t just his short answers that were getting to you; it was the wall he was so clearly putting up, the refusal to even entertain the possibility of a conversation. You were tired of dancing around the issue, of feeling like you were constantly walking on eggshells around him.

“It’s not—” Spencer started, but then he cut himself off, clenching his jaw. His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flash in them—something like pain, or maybe guilt. But just as quickly, he looked away, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The firmness in his voice left little room for argument, but you weren’t ready to give up. Not after everything. “Spencer, please,” you said, trying to reach him on a level beyond the walls he’d built around himself. “I’m not trying to push you, but this… whatever this is between us… it’s affecting the team. It’s affecting us. We can’t just keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

Spencer’s shoulders tensed, and you could see the internal struggle he was facing, the way his mind was working through a hundred different thoughts at once. He seemed to be weighing his options, considering whether or not to open up. But in the end, all he did was shake his head again, his expression closing off. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, but I just… I can’t.”

You felt a pang of disappointment, not just for yourself, but for him too. Whatever was going on inside his head, it was clearly something he wasn’t ready—or willing—to share. And that left you at an impasse, standing on opposite sides of a divide neither of you knew how to cross.

“Okay, well,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration as you turned away from him, “I’m just going to go for a walk then.”

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. “No, Y/N, that could be dangerous,” he said, his tone more urgent than you expected. There was a genuine concern in his voice, a sharp contrast to the distance he’d been maintaining.

“I don’t care,” you replied, your words coming out sharper than you intended. You needed to clear your head, to get some space, even if it meant wandering off into the woods. The tension between you and Spencer had reached a breaking point, and staying here, in this stifling atmosphere, felt unbearable.

You turned and started walking away, not really caring which direction you were heading. The forest loomed around you, the trees casting long shadows in the morning light, but you welcomed the solitude. You needed time to think, to process everything that had just happened.

Behind you, you heard Spencer call your name again, but you didn’t stop. The sound of his voice faded as you walked deeper into the trees, the cool air brushing against your skin as you moved further away from the campsite. You didn’t know where you were going or how far you would walk, but right now, that didn’t matter. All you wanted was some distance—from the campsite, from Spencer, from the emotions that had been building up inside you.

You heard the leaves crunch beneath your boots as you continued walking, the forest growing quieter with each step. The anger and frustration that had driven you out here began to ebb, replaced by a heavy feeling of sadness. You didn’t know why Spencer was so intent on keeping you at arm’s length, but whatever it was, it hurt. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the rhythm of your footsteps and the cool, fresh air filling your lungs. The walk might not solve anything, but it was a start. At least out here, you could breathe.

—

When you finally returned to the campsite, the tension in your chest had eased, though the lingering frustration and sadness hadn’t entirely left. As you approached, you noticed Spencer sitting by the fire, a new book in his hands. His fingers flicked through the pages at lightning speed, a blur of motion as he absorbed the text with the kind of intensity that only Spencer Reid could muster.

He didn’t look up right away, but you noticed his ears perk up at the sound of your footsteps crunching over the forest floor. It was a subtle movement, but it was clear he was aware of your presence, even if he wasn’t immediately acknowledging it. 

You stood there for a moment, watching him as he continued to read, his focus unwavering despite your return. The sight of him, so deeply engrossed in his book, made you wonder if he’d spent the entire time trying to escape into its pages, to block out the unresolved tension between you both. 

“Okay, Spencer,” you began, your voice steady as you walked closer to where he sat. “Here it is. I’ll drive us back tonight. I’ll tell Hotch that I made us leave and I’ll take the two days of paid leave. It’s fine. You don’t have to talk to me, and I’ll take the blame.”

Spencer finally looked up from his book, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your words. There was surprise and confusion in his expression, as if he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. For a moment, he just stared at you, the book forgotten in his hands.

“You… you’d do that?” he asked, his voice soft, almost uncertain. He had expected you to be angry, maybe even confrontational after the way things had gone earlier, but instead, here you were, offering to take the blame, to make it easier for him.

It was clear that Spencer couldn’t believe how nice you were being, especially after everything. He had spent so long keeping you at a distance, fearing that you might turn out to be like your sister, but your words and actions were proving just how wrong he might have been.

“Yeah,” you said with a small shrug, trying to downplay the gesture even though it meant a lot to you. “I mean, we’re obviously not getting anywhere with this. If leaving early is what’s best, then that’s what we’ll do. And I don’t mind taking the hit for it. I’m not going to force you to talk if you don’t want to.”

Spencer swallowed, still struggling to find the right words. He wasn’t used to this kind of kindness, especially not from someone he had kept at arm’s length for so long. It was disarming, to say the least.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with genuine surprise. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a soft, understanding smile. “But I’m offering to because I know this whole situation isn’t easy for either of us. I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable.”

For a long moment, Spencer just looked at you, trying to reconcile the person standing in front of him with the fears and assumptions he had held onto for so long. 

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice sincere. “I… I really appreciate it. But maybe… maybe we don’t have to leave just yet. We could just… see how things go.”

You nodded, sensing the tentative olive branch he was offering. “Okay,” you said gently, feeling a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something better between the two of you.

Spencer nodded, a small, almost hesitant smile forming on his lips. It was a start—a small one, but a start nonetheless.

“Could I maybe ask you a question?” you ventured, your voice tentative, hoping to bridge the gap between you both just a little more.

“Sure,” Spencer said, closing his book slightly but still keeping his thumb between the pages, as if not entirely ready to let go of his comfort zone.

“Did I… do something?” you asked, the question hanging in the air between you. You had to know, even if it was uncomfortable.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he shook his head. “No,” he replied, his tone gentle, yet firm. “You didn’t do anything.”

There was a brief pause, the silence between you more comfortable now than it had been earlier. You gave a small nod, accepting his answer even if it didn’t give you all the clarity you had hoped for. “Okay, I’ll leave you with your book,” you said, starting to step back, figuring he might want some space.

But to your surprise, Spencer didn’t pick up where he left off in his book. Instead, he looked up at you, his expression more open than it had been since you’d met. “You don’t have to… we can talk a bit,” he offered, and though his voice was cautious, there was a genuine willingness in it.

You smiled slightly, appreciating the gesture. “Alright,” you agreed, trying to think of something simple to start with. “Um, where did you grow up?”

“Las Vegas,” Spencer answered, the familiar name rolling off his tongue with a mix of nostalgia and a hint of something else—perhaps a memory he wasn’t sure he wanted to share yet.

“Seriously?” you asked, your eyes widening with surprise.

“Yeah… is that weird?” Spencer replied, his expression uncertain, as if he was bracing for your reaction.

“No, no, that’s where I grew up too,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. The coincidence was almost too much to wrap your head around.

“Oh…” Spencer’s voice trailed off, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He seemed hesitant, like there was something more he wasn’t saying.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, sensing there was more to the story. “Okay, you know something. Did you see my file or something?”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes darting away for a moment before he answered. “Or something…”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, half-joking, but still curious. “Oh, come on, Spencer. What’s up? What school did you go to?”

“Las Vegas High,” he admitted, finally meeting your gaze again.

Your eyes lit up with recognition. “Me too! Wait… but you’re only two years younger than me. Would I have known you?”

Spencer’s expression shifted slightly, and you could see a mix of emotions flicker across his face—hesitation, discomfort, maybe even a touch of embarrassment. “No… uh, I was a freshman at 8 years old.”

“Woah! That’s insane!” you exclaimed, genuinely amazed. “That must have been so difficult for you.”

“It was,” Spencer admitted quietly, his voice carrying the weight of old memories.

You felt a pang of empathy for him, imagining how tough it must have been to navigate high school as a child. The challenges he faced were beyond anything you could have imagined at that age. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I wish we had been in school at the same time, we could have been friends,” you said, offering him a warm smile.

Spencer’s discomfort was palpable, and you could sense it immediately, like a shift in the air between you. He shifted in his seat, his gaze dropping back to the ground as if he was retreating into himself again. “What did we bring for dinner tonight?” he asked, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to steer the conversation away from where it had been heading.

The sudden change in topic stung, a pang of rejection hitting you square in the chest. You had thought, just for a moment, that you were making progress, that maybe you were getting through to him. But you knew Spencer well enough by now to realize that he wasn’t ready to go there, not yet. And pushing him wouldn’t help.

So, for his sake, you forced yourself to move on. “Uh, hotdogs, I think,” you said, trying to match his casual tone, even though the disappointment lingered in the back of your mind.

You busied yourself with preparing the food, focusing on the simple task of gathering the ingredients and setting them up by the fire. The familiar motions helped ground you, giving you something to concentrate on besides the unease that had crept back into your interactions.

Spencer remained quiet, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you worked. There was a tension in his posture, a subtle but unmistakable sign that he was still grappling with whatever had made him uncomfortable in the first place. 

“Hotdogs it is, then,” you said, forcing a small smile as you handed him a stick to skewer the hotdogs. You hoped that by focusing on something as simple as cooking dinner, you could ease some of the tension between you, even if the conversation from earlier still hung heavy in the air.

Spencer took the stick from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments. “Thanks,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before he looked away again. 

As the two of you cooked over the fire, the crackling flames and the scent of roasting hotdogs filled the air, creating a more comfortable silence. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start, and for now, that was enough.

—

The conversation over dinner had been light and mostly focused on work—discussing cases, swapping stories about the more mundane aspects of life at the BAU. It was easy, familiar territory, a safe haven for both of you to retreat to after the earlier tension. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the campsite, a quiet settled between you.

After finishing your meal, you excused yourself to change into your pajamas, the cool night air making you eager to get comfortable. When you returned to the fire, Spencer was still sitting by the flames, the orange light flickering over his face as he stared into the fire, lost in thought.

You approached him, sitting back down across from him. The night was still, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of leaves. For a moment, you hesitated, not wanting to break the fragile peace, but curiosity got the better of you.

“Hey, Reid,” you called softly, trying to ease into the question that had been on your mind since the night before.

“Mhm,” he hummed in response, not looking up from the fire but clearly acknowledging you.

You bit your lip, then decided to just go for it. “Why did you sleep in the car?”

The question hung in the air between you, and you saw Spencer’s entire body stiffen. He froze, his eyes widening slightly, the tension in his shoulders returning in an instant. You could tell he didn’t want to answer, and for a second, you regretted asking. But you had to know.

“Just safer, I guess,” he finally mumbled, his voice tight and unconvincing. His eyes remained fixed on the fire, avoiding your gaze entirely.

You could sense there was more to it, something he wasn’t telling you, but you decided not to push. Spencer was clearly uncomfortable, and whatever the real reason was, he wasn’t ready to share it. So you nodded, accepting his explanation even if it didn’t feel entirely truthful.

“Okay,” you said softly, letting the matter drop. You didn’t want to make him feel any more uneasy than he already did.

—

Halfway through the night, you jolted awake, your heart pounding in your chest. There was an eerie, unsettling sound coming from outside your tent—a low, persistent noise that sent chills down your spine. You tried to ignore it, to convince yourself it was just the wind or some animal moving through the underbrush, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t calm down. The noise wasn’t stopping, and the longer it went on, the more your imagination ran wild.

Unable to shake the growing fear, you carefully and quietly unzipped your sleeping bag and slipped out of the tent. The cold night air hit you immediately, but the fear kept you moving. You crept toward the car, every step making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. When you reached the car, you knocked lightly on the window, hoping not to startle Spencer too much.

“Spencer!” you whisper-yelled, trying to keep your voice low but urgent. You could see him stir where he had flattened the back seats into a makeshift bed, his body shifting as he came to.

“Reid!” you whispered again, a little more urgently this time.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at you with wide, confused eyes. He sat up quickly, clearly surprised to see you standing there in the middle of the night. He leaned forward and unlocked the door, cracking it open just enough to speak to you. “What??” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep and a touch of irritation.

“Can I come in, please?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly with fear.

Spencer blinked, clearly not expecting that. “No??” he replied, still half-asleep and unsure of what you were asking.

“Spencer, there’s a really scary noise out here,” you pleaded, your fear becoming more evident as you looked at him with wide, desperate eyes. “Please, please let me in.”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing. He was still wary, worried that this might be some sort of prank or something worse. But as he looked at you, really looked at you, he saw the genuine fear in your expression. You weren’t trying to mess with him—you were genuinely scared. He’d never seen you like this before.

“Okay, fine,” he finally relented, scooting over to make room for you in the cramped space.

You didn’t waste any time, quickly crawling into the car and pulling the door closed behind you. As soon as you were inside, Spencer locked the doors again, the click of the locks echoing in the silence.

The two of you sat there for a moment, the car suddenly feeling much smaller with both of you inside. The strange noise outside continued, but now that you were with Spencer, the fear didn’t seem as overwhelming. You still couldn’t pinpoint what the noise was, but you felt safer with him there, even if he was still a bit unsure about the whole situation.

Spencer looked at you, his expression softening slightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the irritation gone.

You nodded, still trying to calm your racing heart. “Yeah… I just couldn’t stay in the tent with that noise. It was freaking me out.”

He nodded in understanding, though his eyes flicked toward the windows, clearly trying to listen for the noise himself. “It’s probably just an animal,” he said, trying to reassure both you and himself.

“Maybe,” you whispered, though you weren’t entirely convinced. But for now, you were just grateful to be out of the tent and with someone who made you feel a little less alone.

—

Eventually, despite the lingering fear and the cramped quarters, exhaustion took over, and you both drifted off to sleep in the back of the car. The strange noise outside had faded into the background, and the warmth of the enclosed space made it easier to relax. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, however, Spencer stirred from his sleep, his body shifting slightly as he became aware of something unexpected. Blinking his eyes open, he realized with a start that your limbs were wrapped around him, your body pressed close as you clung to him in your sleep. Your arm was draped over his chest, your leg tangled with his, and your head was nestled against his shoulder. It was as if you had sought out the warmth and security he provided, even unconsciously.

Spencer froze, his mind racing as he tried to process the situation. He wasn’t used to this—intimacy, even in such an innocent form, was foreign territory for him. His heart started to race, not out of fear but out of sheer confusion. What was he supposed to do? Should he wake you? Should he try to untangle himself without disturbing you? 

But as he lay there, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing against him, he couldn’t bring himself to move. There was something oddly comforting about the way you had sought him out, something that made him feel… needed. It was a feeling he wasn’t accustomed to, and it left him at a loss for what to do next.

He glanced down at you, seeing the peaceful expression on your face as you slept. The fear and tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a calmness that was almost contagious. Spencer’s mind continued to whirl, but he didn’t want to disturb you—not when you seemed so at ease.

So, he stayed still, letting you cling to him, trying to reconcile the strange mix of emotions coursing through him. The awkwardness was still there, but it was tempered by a quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, things between you two were starting to change. And for the first time in a long while, that didn’t seem so terrifying after all.

—

When the morning sun filtered through the trees, casting warm golden rays across the campsite, Spencer was already outside, crouched by the fire as he prepared coffee. The familiar scent of brewing coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the fresh scent of the forest, creating a peaceful start to the day. You emerged from the car, feeling a little stiff from the cramped sleep, but more than that, you were feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

You approached Spencer, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Hey… thanks again for letting me bunk with you,” you said, your voice laced with genuine gratitude.

“No problem,” Spencer replied, his tone flat, distant, as he focused on the coffee. He didn’t look up, his gaze firmly fixed on the task at hand.

The coldness in his voice felt like a sharp contrast to the fleeting moment of connection you thought you’d shared the night before. You sighed, the disappointment settling heavily in your chest. Somehow, it seemed like you’d messed up again, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of rejection all over again.

“Did that… make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry,” you ventured, hoping to clear the air, even if it meant confronting whatever it was that had made him withdraw.

“It’s fine,” Spencer replied, his voice clipped, as if he was trying to end the conversation before it could really start. He still didn’t meet your eyes, his attention entirely on the coffee pot.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the familiar ache of misunderstanding between you two. It was clear that whatever had happened during the night had unsettled him, but he wasn’t willing to talk about it. The walls were back up, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to break through.

But instead of pressing further, you decided to let it go, at least for now. Pushing Spencer never worked, and you knew that trying to force a conversation would only make things worse. So you offered him a small, resigned smile, even if he wasn’t looking to see it.

“Okay,” you said softly, accepting his response even though it left you feeling hollow.

You sat down by the fire, quietly waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. The silence between you felt heavy, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had taken a step backward after all the progress you thought you’d made. 

“Um, we can head out whenever you’re ready. We only had to stay until today,” you mumbled, your voice subdued as you stood up and started to take down your tent. You avoided looking directly at Spencer, the awkwardness of the morning still hanging in the air.

“Oh, okay,” Spencer replied, his tone neutral, though you could sense a hint of hesitation in his response.

As you began to disassemble the tent, Spencer watched you for a moment, the silence between you lingering. Despite everything, he found himself reluctant to leave. The tension and awkwardness aside, there had been moments—small, fleeting moments—where he had actually enjoyed your company. The quiet of the campsite, the simplicity of the night, even the unexpected comfort he’d found in your presence last night… it was all something he hadn’t anticipated.

He felt a strange pull, a desire to stay just a little longer, even if he couldn’t quite articulate why. But he was Spencer Reid, and expressing those kinds of feelings wasn’t something that came easily to him. Instead, he stood there, conflicted, as he watched you go about packing up.

“Actually… we don’t have to rush,” Spencer finally said, his voice softer now. “If you want, we could stay for a little while longer. There’s no hurry.”

You paused in your task, surprised by his words. You turned to look at him, searching his face for any sign of what had changed his mind. “Are you sure?” you asked cautiously, not wanting to impose if he really wanted to leave.

Spencer nodded, his expression more open than it had been all morning. “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s… nice out here. Peaceful.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and for the first time that morning, you felt a bit of the tension ease. Maybe you hadn’t messed up as badly as you thought. “Okay,” you agreed, setting the tent pole back down. “We can stay a little longer.”

Spencer gave a small, almost imperceptible smile in return, and as the two of you stood there in the morning light, it felt like there was a chance to start over—to take the time neither of you had been willing to take before. 

—

After a simple breakfast, you looked over at Spencer, feeling a bit more at ease with the morning stretching out before you. “When I went for a walk, I saw a body of water,” you suggested, trying to keep the conversation light and inviting. “Do you want to go check it out?”

Spencer looked up from his coffee, a little surprised by the suggestion. “Oh, sure,” he agreed, his tone more relaxed than it had been earlier.

The two of you set off through the trees, following the path you had taken before. It didn’t take long to find the body of water again, the sunlight reflecting off its surface in shimmering patterns. The sight was even more beautiful now, with the morning light casting a gentle glow over the water.

“It’s gorgeous,” Spencer said softly, his voice filled with genuine appreciation as he took in the scene.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your eyes sweeping over the peaceful setting. The water was so clear, so inviting, that you couldn’t resist the urge to get in. “I’m going to get in,” you announced, already starting to kick off your shoes.

“What?” Spencer’s voice cracked, his surprise evident as he watched you strip down to your undergarments without hesitation. His cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as you waded into the cold, refreshing water, a small shiver running through you as the temperature hit your skin.

The water was invigorating, waking you up in a way that the morning coffee never could. You splashed around a bit, reveling in the feeling of the water against your skin. Turning back to Spencer, who was still standing at the edge, looking unsure of what to do, you grinned. “Do you know how to swim, genius?”

“Yes,” he replied, blushing even deeper as he averted his eyes slightly, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of decorum despite the situation.

“Do you want to join me?” you asked, your voice light and teasing as you floated on your back, letting the water carry you.

Spencer hesitated, clearly torn between his natural inclination to stay dry and the surprising appeal of joining you in the water. After a moment, he looked back at you, the uncertainty in his eyes slowly giving way to something else—curiosity, maybe even a touch of daring.

“Alright,” he finally said, as if making a decision that surprised even himself. With a deep breath, he began to unbutton his shirt, methodically removing his clothes until he was down to a tshirt and briefs. His movements were careful, deliberate, as if he was still a bit unsure about this whole idea.

When he finally stepped into the water, a shiver ran through him as the cold enveloped his body. “It’s… colder than I expected,” he admitted, his voice a bit higher-pitched than usual.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, watching as he waded in deeper, adjusting to the temperature. “You’ll get used to it,” you assured him, still floating easily on the surface.

Spencer nodded, his movements tentative at first, but as he swam out to where you were, he began to relax. There was a certain lightness to the moment, a freedom that neither of you had felt in a long time. The water, the sun, the simple act of swimming—it was a welcome escape from the tension that had defined your interactions until now.

The two of you spent what felt like hours playing and splashing in the water, the cool waves washing away the tension that had been hanging between you. It was a rare, carefree moment where you both felt free and childlike, laughing without a care in the world. There were no pressures, no responsibilities—just the simple joy of being in the moment.

But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, signaling that it was time to come out, you noticed a shift in Spencer. He seemed hesitant, his earlier playfulness replaced with a familiar tension. He lingered in the water, avoiding your gaze, and you could sense his discomfort.

“Um, Y/N… can you turn around when I get out?” Spencer asked, his voice quiet, almost nervous.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, of course,” you replied, caught a little off guard by his request but willing to do whatever made him comfortable.

“And, um… maybe walk a bit away?” he added, his tone even more tentative.

“Uh huh, sure. Whatever you want,” you said gently, giving him a reassuring smile before turning away and moving up the bank. You grabbed your clothes and began walking a bit further from the water, giving him the privacy he clearly needed.

Spencer waited until you were a safe distance away and preoccupied with getting dressed before he quickly and quietly scrambled out of the water, pulling on his clothes as fast as he could. The vulnerability of being in nothing but water-tight briefs had brought back all his fears, the insecurities that had haunted him for years.

As you both started the walk back to the campsite, you couldn’t help but address the tension that still lingered. “Did you think I would make fun of you?” you asked, your voice soft, but tinged with concern.

Spencer shook his head slightly, though he didn’t look at you. “Oh, no, I don’t know,” he mumbled, clearly uncomfortable.

Your heart ached at his response. “I wouldn’t, for the record,” you said earnestly, hoping to reassure him.

There was a brief silence, heavy with unspoken emotions, before you felt compelled to share something of your own. “I grew up with a really mean sister,” you began, your voice carrying the weight of old wounds. “She would make fun of everyone for anything and everything, including me. It was a torturous way to grow up. I would never want to make anyone feel the way that she made me feel.”

Spencer suddenly stopped walking, his entire body tensing as if he’d hit an invisible wall. You turned to him, alarmed by the sudden change.

“Spencer? Are you okay?” you asked, worry lacing your voice.

He took a deep breath, his voice strained as he spoke. “It’s not you, it’s never been you,” he said, his words confusing you even more. “It was your sister.”

“What?” you whispered, the revelation hitting you like a cold gust of wind.

“Your sister was in my grade in high school,” Spencer explained, his voice trembling with the emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“Oh…” was all you could manage, the pieces slowly clicking into place.

“She wasn’t nice,” Spencer continued, his voice thick with the memories. His eyes welled up with tears, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “She bullied me pretty relentlessly. Tied me up naked to a flagpole and took pictures.”

“Spencer… oh my God,” you breathed, horror and guilt crashing over you. You thought your heart had broken earlier, but now it felt shattered, the pieces scattered by the weight of his confession. “I don’t even know what to say. I am so, so sorry. No one ever deserves that. I can’t believe you went through that.”

Spencer nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he stood there, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before. The pain he had carried for so long, the fear that had driven a wedge between you, was now out in the open. 

“Can I—can I hug you?” you offered, your voice gentle, filled with the empathy and care that had been building in your heart since Spencer’s revelation.

Spencer hesitated for only a moment before nodding, allowing you to pull him into an embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, feeling the tension in his body gradually melt away as he leaned into the comfort you were offering.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmured softly against his shoulder. “I’m going to assume that you were afraid of me being like my sister, and that’s why you didn’t talk to me.”

Spencer nodded again, his silent confirmation making your heart ache even more for him. You could only imagine the fear and pain he must have felt, avoiding you because of a past that had nothing to do with who you truly were.

“I just want you to know, Spencer,” you continued, your voice steady but filled with emotion, “I would never do anything to hurt you in any way. I am nothing like her. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be the opposite of her. My family disowned her a long time ago.”

Spencer pulled back slightly then, just enough to look at you, his eyes still wet with tears. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before, a deep, raw emotion that spoke volumes. “I believe you,” he whispered, his voice breaking but filled with sincerity.

Your own eyes stung with unshed tears, the weight of his belief in you meaning more than you could express. “I’m so sorry to have made you feel uncomfortable this whole time,” you said, your voice thick with regret. “I completely understand why you didn’t want to get too close to me.”

Spencer shook his head slightly, about to apologize, but you stopped him before he could. “No, never apologize for protecting yourself,” you insisted, your tone firm but kind. “We’ve solved it now, and that’s what matters. I hope we can be friends?”

There was a moment of silence as Spencer processed your words, and then, slowly, a small but genuine smile formed on his lips. “Of course,” he said softly, his voice filled with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief and hope wash over you. The wall between you and Spencer had finally come down, and in its place was the beginning of a real connection—one built on understanding, empathy, and the promise of a friendship that could grow from here.

“Thank you,” Spencer added quietly, his voice full of gratitude. And for the first time, you both felt like you were truly starting fresh, free from the shadows of the past.

—

You and Spencer made it back to Quantico with a sense of quiet relief, knowing that the rift between you had finally been addressed. When you reported back to the team, you both kept the details vague, simply letting them know that you had worked things out. Spencer was immensely grateful for your discretion, and you could see it in the small, appreciative smiles he sent your way. During the ride back, the two of you had chatted the entire time, the conversation flowing easily as if the weight of the past had finally been lifted.

The next day at work, you felt a new sense of ease around Spencer. The tension was gone, replaced by the beginnings of what felt like a genuine friendship. As you approached his desk, you felt a little flutter of nerves, but it was a good kind—like you were about to take a step forward into something new.

“Hey, Spencer…” you called softly as you reached his desk.

He looked up from his work, a smile spreading across his face when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted warmly.

“Would you maybe want to come over this weekend? We could watch a movie or something?” you asked, hoping to continue building on the connection you’d started.

“Sure,” he grinned, clearly pleased by the invitation. “That sounds great.”

You returned his smile, feeling a little spark of excitement as you walked away. It felt good to know that things between you and Spencer were on a new path, one that was built on mutual understanding and trust.

Unbeknownst to you, Derek Morgan had been casually eavesdropping from a distance. As soon as you were out of earshot, he sneaked up on Spencer, a mischievous grin on his face. “You got yourself a date, Reid?” Derek teased, leaning on the desk with a playful glint in his eye.

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, his cheeks flushing slightly. “What? No, we’re just hanging out,” he insisted, his voice flustered but firm.

“Mhm,” Derek hummed, not buying it for a second, his teasing grin only widening. “Sure, man, just hanging out.”

Spencer shot him a look, trying to maintain his composure, but the slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. Despite Derek’s teasing, there was a sense of warmth and excitement bubbling up inside Spencer—because for the first time, “just hanging out” with someone felt like it could lead to something more, even if he wasn’t quite ready to admit it yet.

Derek chuckled and gave Spencer a friendly pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Spencer to ponder the possibilities that lay ahead, a small smile still lingering on his face.

—

Friday evening arrived faster than you and Spencer had expected. Both of you were feeling excitement and nervousness, eager for the evening ahead but also unsure of how it would unfold. You had spent the day tidying up and preparing your living room, making sure everything was just right for your night of movie watching and hanging out. You wanted Spencer to feel comfortable, and you hoped the cozy atmosphere you’d created would help set the tone for a relaxing evening.

When Spencer arrived at your place, he was immediately taken aback by the scene before him. Your living room was bathed in the soft glow of string lights, their warm hue giving the room a welcoming, almost magical quality. The sunset outside the window painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, adding to the serene ambiance. The couch was piled with soft blankets, and a few pillows were scattered around, inviting him to sit and get comfortable. On the coffee table, you had set out some snacks, drinks, and everything you might need for a night of watching movies.

As he stepped inside, Spencer couldn’t help but smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He had been half-expecting some sort of trick or prank, but instead, you had gone out of your way to make the evening as enjoyable as possible. It was clear that you genuinely wanted to spend time with him, and the effort you’d put into setting everything up didn’t go unnoticed.

“Wow,” Spencer said softly, his eyes taking in the cozy, well-thought-out setup. “This looks amazing.”

You smiled, pleased that he seemed to like it. “Thanks, I wanted to make sure we could just relax and have a good time,” you replied, motioning for him to come in and make himself comfortable. “No tricks, I promise.”

Spencer chuckled, the tension he’d been feeling all day melting away as he settled onto the couch. “I believe you,” he said, feeling more at ease than he had expected. 

As you both sat down, the air was filled with a comfortable anticipation, the kind that comes with knowing you’re about to spend time with someone you genuinely enjoy being around. It was the start of what promised to be a wonderful evening, free from the worries of the past and full of the potential for a growing friendship.

After the first movie ended, the credits rolling across the screen, you and Spencer found yourselves lingering on the couch, the atmosphere between you light and airy, buoyed by the humor of the comedy you’d just watched. The laughter had done its job, breaking down any lingering tension, and now conversation flowed easily between you.

“So, what did you think of the movie?” you asked, turning to Spencer with a smile. You’d both been chuckling throughout, but you were curious to hear his thoughts now that it was over.

“It was great,” Spencer replied, a genuine grin on his face. “I don’t usually watch a lot of comedies, but that one was really funny. The timing, the dialogue… it was all really well done.” He seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, his guard down as he leaned back into the couch.

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” you said, pleased that he had enjoyed it. “Sometimes you just need something light to unwind, you know?”

Spencer nodded in agreement. “Definitely. It’s nice to just… laugh, without thinking too much.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “I guess I don’t do that enough.”

You smiled softly at his admission, feeling a warmth in your chest at the idea that tonight was giving him something he didn’t often allow himself. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. We can do this more often if you want. Just hang out and relax.”

Spencer glanced over at you, his eyes softening. “I’d like that,” he said sincerely. “It’s nice to have someone to do this with.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, the kind that felt natural and unforced. You reached for the remote, ready to start another movie, but found yourself pausing, wanting to keep the conversation going a little longer.

“So, what’s one movie you think I should watch?” you asked, curious to hear his recommendation. “Something you really love.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up with excitement, the prospect of sharing one of his favorite films with you clearly appealing to him. “Oh, there are so many,” he said, his enthusiasm contagious. “But if I had to pick one… Have you ever seen *The Great Dictator* by Charlie Chaplin?”

You shook your head, intrigued by his choice. “No, I haven’t. Is it good?”

“It’s incredible,” Spencer said, his voice full of admiration. “It’s one of Chaplin’s best works—a satire that’s both funny and deeply poignant. It’s also one of the first films where he speaks, and the final speech… it’s just powerful.”

“Wow, sounds like a must-watch,” you said, genuinely interested. “We should definitely put that on our list for next time.”

“Absolutely,” Spencer agreed, smiling. “I think you’d really appreciate it.”

As the night wound down, the conversation between you and Spencer became more intimate, the two of you curled up on the couch, facing each other. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, the barriers that had once stood between you now gone. The flickering glow of the TV cast soft shadows around the room, but your focus was entirely on each other, the outside world forgotten for the moment.

“So, Reid… are you seeing anyone?” you asked, your tone light but curious.

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Hah, no, I’m not,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Are you?”

“I was,” you admitted, feeling a small flush rise to your cheeks. “But they were kind of flaky, not ready to commit.”

“That makes sense,” Spencer said, nodding thoughtfully. “Do you date a lot?”

You blushed a little deeper, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “Not a lot,” you confessed. “I prefer to wait for a genuine connection.”

“Me too,” Spencer agreed, his voice soft, as if he were relieved to find that you shared the same sentiment.

“Have you dated recently?” you asked, your curiosity piqued. Spencer had always seemed so private, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone special in his life.

“Not really,” he said, a small, almost sad smile crossing his face. “I… am kind of wary of dating.”

“Can I ask why? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said gently, not wanting to push him but also wanting to understand more about him.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing whether or not to share. “Um… well, in school, girls would ask me on dates, and when I showed up, they’d make fun of me and take pictures,” he finally admitted, his voice quiet, the pain from those memories still lingering.

“Like my sister?” you asked softly, already suspecting the answer.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, his eyes flickering with the old hurt. “That’s how she… yeah.”

“Oh, Spencer…” you breathed, your heart breaking for him all over again. You reached out instinctively, wanting to offer comfort, but you held back, respecting his space.

“Let’s not talk about it,” he said, his voice firmer this time, as if he needed to move past the subject for his own peace of mind.

“Of course,” you agreed immediately, not wanting to cause him any more pain.

There was a brief silence, one that felt heavy with unspoken words, but before you could change the topic, Spencer spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You’re prettier than her, you know.”

“What’s that?” you asked, not sure you had heard him correctly.

“Your sister,” Spencer clarified, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. “You’re prettier. And nicer, but that’s a given.”

You felt your cheeks flush deeply, not just from his words, but from the way he said them—with such earnestness, as if he’d been holding onto that thought for a while. The compliment caught you off guard, and you weren’t quite sure how to respond.

“Thank you,” you finally managed, your voice soft, touched by his words more than you could express. “That really means a lot. She… did not think so.”

Spencer’s expression softened even further, a mix of empathy and determination in his eyes. “I hope you know that you are,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm, as if he needed you to believe it as much as he did.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, a warm smile spreading across your face. “You’re really pretty too.”

Spencer blinked in surprise, his cheeks tinging pink at the unexpected compliment. “Really?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and curiosity.

“Mhm,” you nodded, your smile widening. “I’ve always thought so.”

The sincerity in your voice seemed to catch Spencer off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t often that he received compliments like this—especially not from someone he was beginning to care about as much as he cared about you. He felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of validation that he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice almost a whisper, but the smile that touched his lips was genuine and full of a newfound confidence. There was something deeply reassuring about your words, something that made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt before.

As the evening continued, the bond between you only deepened, both of you more relaxed and open with each other than you had been before. The compliments exchanged were just the beginning—a sign that what was growing between you was more than just a simple friendship. It was a connection built on mutual respect, admiration, and a shared understanding of each other’s pasts and insecurities.

—

“How was your date, pretty boy?” Derek teased, his voice carrying across the bullpen as he leaned against Spencer's desk with a wide grin.

“It wasn’t a date,” Spencer mumbled, his eyes firmly fixed on the stack of papers in front of him. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he desperately wished Derek would drop the subject.

“Reid had a date?” Rossi’s voice chimed in as he walked by, a look of amused surprise on his face.

“Yep! Friday night,” Derek laughed, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort.

“Would you guys keep it down? I did not have a date,” Spencer hissed, his voice low and urgent as he glanced nervously toward the entrance. The last thing he wanted was for you to walk in and overhear them. The thought of you getting the wrong idea—or worse, feeling awkward about the night—made his stomach twist.

“Aw, come on, Reid,” Derek continued, not ready to let it go just yet. “You’re telling me you spent a whole evening at Y/N’s place, all cozy on the couch, and that wasn’t a date?”

Spencer sighed, his frustration mounting as he tried to formulate a response that would shut down the teasing. “We were just hanging out,” he insisted, though he couldn’t deny the warmth that crept into his voice at the memory of the evening. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

Derek exchanged a knowing look with Rossi, both of them clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide—for now, at least. “Alright, alright,” Derek said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “If you say so, pretty boy.”

Rossi chuckled, giving Spencer a reassuring pat on the back. “Whatever it was, it’s good to see you two getting along,” he said, his tone more serious now.

Spencer nodded, grateful for the subtle shift in the conversation. “Thanks, Rossi,” he replied quietly, hoping the conversation was finally over.

Just as the tension began to ease, you walked through the door, a bright smile on your face as you entered the bullpen. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly looked down at his work, praying that the others wouldn’t say anything more.

“Morning, everyone,” you greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the earlier exchange.

“Morning, Y/N,” Derek and Rossi replied in unison, their voices notably more innocent than they had been moments before.

Spencer dared a quick glance up at you, relieved to see that you hadn’t picked up on the previous teasing. “Morning,” he mumbled, trying to focus on the files in front of him.

You gave him a warm smile, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment, and he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Whatever Derek and Rossi thought, you knew the truth—and that was all that mattered.

—

“Hey, Y/N,” Alex greeted you with a warm smile as she approached your desk.

“Hey, Alex,” you replied, returning the smile. “How was your weekend?”

“It was relaxing, thanks for asking,” Alex said, her tone light and casual. “How about you? What’s up?”

Before you could answer, Alex’s eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief as she continued, “I heard you had a date this weekend.”

You blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off by the comment. “Uh, nope. Just hung out with Reid and went to the farmers market,” you clarified, wondering where she had gotten the idea that it was anything more.

Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the teasing. “It wasn’t a date with Reid?”

“No? Did he say it was?” you asked, genuinely curious now. Had Spencer mentioned something to someone that made them think it was a date?

Realizing she might have stirred something up unintentionally, Alex quickly backtracked. “I think I might have misspoke, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any confusion,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

“Bye, Alex,” you replied, still a bit puzzled by the exchange. As she walked away, you couldn’t help but replay the conversation in your head, wondering how such a simple evening of hanging out with Spencer had turned into a rumor about a date.

Shaking your head, you decided not to dwell on it too much. You knew the truth of the situation, and that was enough. Still, the idea of others seeing you and Spencer as something more than friends lingered in your mind, leaving you with curiosity and uncertainty as you returned to your work.

—

“Reid! You had a date with Y/N and didn’t think to tell me?? I thought we were close!” Penelope’s voice whined from across the breakroom, her tone a mix of hurt and playful exaggeration.

Spencer nearly choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in surprise as he turned to face her. “I did not have a date with Y/N!” he insisted, exasperation clear in his voice. “Did Derek tell you that? I swear, the gossip in this office travels at the speed of light.”

Penelope shook her head, her brightly colored glasses slipping slightly down her nose. “Oh, no, I heard it from JJ.”

“JJ?” Spencer repeated, even more bewildered. “I never told JJ anything about a date because there wasn’t a date!”

Penelope tilted her head, a curious look on her face. “Maybe Y/N did…”

Spencer sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed the situation. “No, Y/N wouldn’t have said it was a date because it wasn’t,” he reiterated, feeling like the whole thing was spiraling out of control.

Penelope’s expression softened as she realized how flustered Spencer was. “Okay, okay, calm down, boy genius,” she said gently, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s just a bit of harmless teasing. But, honestly, with how everyone’s talking, it does kind of sound like a date, you know?”

Spencer groaned inwardly, knowing that trying to convince everyone otherwise was starting to feel like a losing battle. “It was just a casual hangout,” he emphasized, though even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded at this point.

Penelope studied him for a moment, her gaze more thoughtful now. “Okay, I believe you,” she finally said with a small smile. “But just so you know, if it ever turns into more than just a hangout… you can always come to me for advice.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he offered her a shy smile in return. “Thanks, Penelope. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, Penelope gave him a quick hug before heading out of the breakroom, leaving Spencer standing there, still a little dazed by how quickly the rumor mill had turned a simple evening into a full-blown office saga. But as he finished his coffee, he couldn’t help but wonder—if so many people were seeing it as more than just a hangout, was there something there he hadn’t fully acknowledged yet?

—

You were focused on making copies in the copier room when you heard the door creak open behind you. Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Spencer standing there. 

“Hey,” you greeted him with a warm smile, happy to see him.

“Hi…” he replied, but his tone was hesitant, his usual shyness creeping back in.

Your smile faltered slightly. “Oh no, I thought we were past the cold shoulder,” you teased lightly, hoping to ease whatever tension he might be feeling.

Spencer’s expression softened, and he quickly shook his head. “Sorry, we are,” he assured you, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

Before you could say anything else, the door swung open again, and JJ walked in, a playful grin on her face. “Hey, love birds,” she teased, clearly unaware of the moment she was interrupting.

Startled, you jumped, your hand slipping and slamming down on the copier lid. “Ow!” you yelped, pain shooting through your fingers as you quickly pulled your hand back.

JJ’s face immediately filled with concern as she rushed over. “Oh shoot, Y/N, I didn’t mean to scare you!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with guilt.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, his worry evident in his eyes. “Y/N! Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as he reached for your injured hand.

You winced, flexing your fingers slightly to test them. “No, I crushed my hand really hard,” you admitted, the throbbing pain making it difficult to think about anything else.

“Let’s go get you some ice,” Spencer said quickly, his hand gently guiding you toward the door.

JJ nodded, clearly feeling bad about what had happened. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity as she followed you both out of the room.

“It’s okay,” you reassured her, though the pain in your hand made it hard to keep the smile on your face. “It was just an accident.”

Spencer didn’t waste any time as he led you down the hall, his worry for you clear in his every movement. Once you reached the breakroom, he quickly grabbed a small bag of ice from the freezer, wrapping it in a towel before gently pressing it against your injured hand.

“Here,” he said softly, his voice full of concern as he held the ice in place. “This should help.”

You nodded gratefully, touched by how attentive he was being. “Thanks, Spencer,” you murmured, the pain starting to dull under the cool pressure of the ice.

In that moment, as Spencer held the ice gently against your hand, you looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile. The concern in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch—it was all so sweet, so genuine. For a second, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of shared warmth. Anyone looking at you both in that moment would have seen it—the soft, unspoken affection that had been quietly growing between you.

Just then, the door to the breakroom swung open, and Aaron Hotchner walked in, his gaze immediately landing on the two of you. He stopped short, raising an eyebrow as he took in the scene. “Whoa, am I interrupting something?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his usually serious tone.

You and Spencer both snapped out of your little world, glancing at each other with wide eyes before quickly looking away, your faces flushing with embarrassment.

“No, uh, Y/N just hurt her hand,” Spencer stammered, his voice a little higher than usual as he struggled to explain. “I was just helping her with some ice.”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a small smile, clearly not entirely convinced by the rushed explanation. “I see,” he said, his tone even but with that subtle hint of amusement. “Well, it’s good to see you’re taking care of each other.”

You nodded, still blushing, but managed to muster a smile. “Thanks, Hotch. It’s nothing serious, just a little bump.”

“Glad to hear it,” Aaron replied, giving you both a knowing look before heading to the coffee machine. He didn’t say anything more, but the slight smirk on his face as he poured his coffee said plenty.

As he left the room, the silence between you and Spencer felt charged, the air thick with the unspoken feelings that neither of you were quite ready to fully acknowledge. But despite the awkwardness, there was also a warmth—an understanding that something was shifting between you, something neither of you could deny.

Finally, Spencer broke the silence, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You should keep the ice on for a while,” he said, still holding the towel-wrapped bag against your hand.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice just as quiet, but your heart was still racing from the earlier moment. “Thanks, Spencer. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before flicking away again. “Anytime,” he murmured, and despite the awkwardness, there was a small, genuine smile on his lips that made your heart flutter just a little more.

—

By the end of the week, the teasing from the team had mostly died down. The playful comments and knowing looks had given way to the usual routines of work, and everyone seemed to move on from the idea that you and Spencer were more than just friends. But despite the outward calm, Spencer couldn’t shake the thoughts that lingered in his mind.

All week, he found himself replaying the moments you had shared—the movie night, the quiet conversations, the way you had looked at him when he held the ice against your hand. It wasn’t just the teasing that had gotten under his skin; it was the way it made him question things he hadn’t fully considered before.

Spencer wasn’t someone who easily delved into matters of the heart. His mind was so often occupied with facts, statistics, and the complexities of human behavior that his own emotions sometimes felt like an unsolvable puzzle. But now, those emotions were harder to ignore. He kept thinking about the way your smile made his heart beat a little faster, or how he found comfort in your presence in a way that was different from anyone else.

He was still trying to wrap his head around what it all meant. Was it just friendship, or was there something more? And if there was more, what did that mean for both of you? Spencer wasn’t sure he had the answers, but he knew he couldn’t just brush it off as easily as he once might have.

As the week came to a close, he found himself wanting to talk to you more, to spend time with you, to explore whatever this was between you both. The thought of asking you out—actually asking you out—crossed his mind more than once, but every time he considered it, a wave of nerves would hit him, and he’d retreat back into his thoughts.

By Friday afternoon, he was still thinking about it as he sat at his desk, his work in front of him but his mind far from focused on the task at hand. The uncertainty gnawed at him, but there was also a flicker of excitement there, a small hope that maybe, just maybe, this could turn into something real.

—

As the workday came to an end, people began to gather around the elevators, eager to start their weekends. Spencer had been keeping an eye out for you, hoping to catch you before you left. He wanted to ask if you’d like to hang out again this weekend, the thought of spending more time with you making him feel both nervous and excited.

But just as he was about to approach you, another agent, Brant Ledgers, beat him to it. Spencer slowed his pace, watching the exchange from a distance, his heart sinking as Brant tried to turn on the charm.

“Hey, Agent,” Brant said, his voice smooth, leaning in a little too close for comfort.

“Um, hello,” you replied, taken aback by his sudden approach.

“You look beautiful today, and I couldn’t help but notice you smell divine. Did you intentionally pick my favorite scent?” Brant continued, his tone dripping with arrogance.

“What?” you asked, clearly uncomfortable with the way he was speaking to you.

Before the situation could escalate, the elevator arrived, and Spencer, feeling a pang of anxiety at the possibility of hearing you agree to another man’s advances, quickly stepped inside, not wanting to witness it.

But just as the doors were closing, he overheard Brant’s next move. “What do you say, baby? You and me, this weekend?” Brant asked, his tone filled with unwelcome confidence.

“Oh, um, no thank you. I appreciate the offer,” you replied, trying to be polite despite your discomfort.

“Why not?” Brant pressed, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“I don’t have to give you a reason,” you said firmly, attempting to walk away.

But as you turned to leave, Brant grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Uh, yeah, you do,” he said, his grip tight and his tone menacing.

Just then, Derek Morgan, who had been nearby, stepped out of the bullpen and saw what was happening. “Whoa, what’s going on?” Derek’s voice boomed, his protective instincts kicking in immediately.

“We’re having a conversation, butt out,” Brant snapped, clearly irritated by Derek’s interference.

“Y/N, you good?” Derek asked, ignoring Brant entirely as he focused on you.

You shook your head, the fear and discomfort evident in your eyes.

“Let her go, Ledgers,” Derek commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Brant hesitated for a moment, clearly not wanting to back down, but the look in Derek’s eyes told him this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. With a huff, Brant released your arm, glaring at Derek as he stepped back.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Brant muttered under his breath as he turned and walked away, but Derek paid him no mind.

As soon as Brant was gone, Derek turned to you, concern etched on his face. “You okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, though your hand instinctively rubbed the spot on your arm where Brant had grabbed you. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks, Derek.”

“Anytime,” Derek said, his tone softening as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You need anything, you let me know, alright?”

“Will do,” you replied, giving him a grateful smile.

Derek walked with you toward the elevator, determined to make sure you got to your car safely. The incident with Ledgers had shaken you more than you wanted to admit, but having Derek by your side brought a sense of security.

When you reached the garage, you spotted Spencer standing near Derek’s car, clearly waiting for his ride home. His eyes lit up with concern the moment he saw you, and as Derek explained the situation, his expression shifted from concern to anger.

“Hey, Reid, I’m going to walk Y/N to her car, then I’ll be back, okay?” Derek said, his tone firm as he made sure Spencer understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Oh, sure, what’s going on?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Ledgers tried to grab at her. I want to make sure she gets out of here safe and sound,” Derek explained, his voice laced with protective determination.

“What?” Spencer’s voice boomed, the anger evident as he looked around, clearly ready to confront Ledgers himself. “Where is he?”

You quickly placed a hand on Spencer’s arm, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay, Spencer. Derek stepped in before he got too far.”

Spencer’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the concern in his eyes clear. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentler now, but still full of worry.

“Yeah,” you nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to determine if you were really alright. “Do you want me to come over tonight? Keep you company?” he offered, his voice sincere and filled with a desire to help.

Your heart warmed at his offer, and you nodded, grateful for his support. “Thank you, Spencer, that sounds really nice. Do you just want to ride with me?” you asked, knowing it would be easier for both of you to go together.

“Yeah, I do,” Spencer replied without hesitation, clearly wanting to be there for you in any way he could.

Derek, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smirk, couldn’t resist a little teasing. “Have fun on your second date, lovebirds,” he quipped, the smirk growing wider as he saw the blush rise on both your cheeks.

Spencer gave Derek a half-hearted glare, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. “It’s not a date,” he mumbled, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Derek just chuckled, patting Spencer on the back. “Whatever you say, pretty boy. Just take care of her.”

With that, Spencer stayed close by your side, the silent protector you hadn’t known you needed until now. As you both got into your car, the earlier tension faded away, replaced by the comforting knowledge that, no matter what, you had each other’s backs.

—

As you and Spencer sat across from each other at your dining table, enjoying the simple comfort of dinner together, Spencer’s thoughts kept circling back to what had happened earlier. The guilt gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have done something—anything—to protect you from Ledgers. He had been so close, yet he had let the situation unfold without intervening.

Finally, he couldn’t keep it in any longer. Setting his fork down, he looked at you with a seriousness that made you pause. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help,” he said, his voice laced with regret.

You looked up from your plate, surprised by the sudden apology. “What? Oh, Spencer, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

He shook his head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “I should have waited for you,” he insisted, his guilt deepening. The thought of you being in a situation like that without him there to support you weighed heavily on his mind.

“You’re not required to wait for me,” you replied softly, trying to ease his worries. “It’s okay, really.”

Spencer hesitated, his eyes dropping to his plate as he wrestled with what he wanted to say next. He knew he had to be honest, even if it made him vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, he decided to take the plunge. “No, I know. I just…” He paused, gathering his courage before continuing. “I heard him asking you out, and I guess I didn’t want to stick around to hear you say yes.”

Your breath caught slightly at his admission, the pieces falling into place. It wasn’t just guilt driving Spencer’s apology—it was something deeper, something more personal. You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way he was trying to gauge your reaction.

“Spencer,” you began gently, reaching across the table to take his hand, “I would never have said yes to him. I’m not interested in Brant, and I’m certainly not interested in anyone who would treat me like that.”

He looked up at you then, the worry in his eyes softening as your words sank in. “I know, I just… I didn’t want to hear it, you know?” he admitted, his voice quiet but honest.

You squeezed his hand, offering him a reassuring smile. “I understand,” you said softly. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of myself.”

Spencer felt a pang of frustration as he realized his initial explanation hadn’t fully conveyed what he meant. He took a deep breath, deciding it was time to be as clear as possible, even if it made him nervous. “I know that, Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but filled with a new kind of vulnerability. “You’re more than capable of handling yourself—that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?” you replied, your curiosity piqued. “What did you mean?”

Spencer hesitated for a brief moment, but then the words came out in a rush, fueled by the need to be honest with you. “I don’t want you to go out with someone else.”

You blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. “Someone else?”

“I want you to go out with me,” Spencer said, the vulnerability in his eyes now unmistakable. He had put everything out on the table, his feelings laid bare for you to see.

The realization hit you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Oh,” you managed, your voice soft as you absorbed what he was saying.

There was a moment of silence, and you could see the anxiety flickering in Spencer’s eyes as he waited for your response. His whole posture was tense, as if he was bracing himself for whatever came next.

“Do you… want that too?” Spencer asked, his voice quieter now, but filled with hope.

You bit your lip, feeling a smile spread across your face as your heart swelled with warmth. “I do,” you replied, the sincerity in your voice clear. The smile on your face widened as you saw the relief and joy that washed over Spencer’s features.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the atmosphere between you thick with unspoken feelings and the excitement of what was to come. Then, Spencer’s lips curled into a shy, genuine smile that mirrored your own.

“So, when should we have our third date?” Spencer asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

You laughed, delighted by this lighter, more confident side of him. “Hmm. Tomorrow?” you suggested, your heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him.

“Sounds perfect,” Spencer agreed, his smile widening.

“Spencer?” you asked softly, your tone turning more serious as you looked into his eyes.

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle but filled with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you before our third date?” you asked, your heart pounding as the words left your lips.

Spencer’s smile turned even softer, his eyes lighting up with warmth and affection. “I’d be offended if you didn’t,” he replied, his voice a tender mix of humor and sincerity.

With that, you leaned in, closing the small distance between you. Spencer met you halfway, his eyes fluttering shut as your lips touched in a soft, sweet kiss. It was gentle at first, both of you savoring the moment, the culmination of everything that had been building between you.

When you finally pulled back, your faces still close, you both wore matching smiles, the connection between you now unmistakable and full of promise.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[earthtooz]

Wrio the slay calling reading clingy so reader sleeps on couch …😊 thx

x : DISTANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: you overhear wriothesley calling your affection too much, so you respect his wishes and give him some space. yet, why does he not seem like it?

warnings: 5.6k words (why did it get so long), hurt/comfort, gn!reader and wriothesley are married, pet names, no spoilers but set in canon, misunderstandings and miscommunication af, slowburn??, you might tug your hair out at some parts lol sorry, fluff with angst but happy ending, it gets emotional.

a/n: okay this was definitely not my favourite piece, i was experimenting with writing styles and writing in an omnipresent pov... so sorry if it feels clunky at some bits. overall, i'm pretty happy! also sorry for not sticking to the original prompt

Perhaps today was a bad time, you think as you leave the Fortress of Meropide, anxiety churning in your stomach and doubt weighing on your mind. Despite Fontaine’s sunrays shining brightly upon you, you feel anything but warm.  

What started as a visit to your husband with kind, wholesome intentions of delivering some lunch to him on your day off ended with a visit that left you riddled with questions. Coming at a time when he was in a meeting nearing its end, you didn’t even get the chance to speak to him, yet his words rattled around your head, replaying like a broken disc. 

“How are you and your spouse?” A rich voice echoes from his office, door slightly ajar signifying that whatever discussion was happening within was coming to an end.

“Y/n and I? We’re amazing, thank you,” Wriothesley answers. “I’m always happiest whenever I’m with Y/n.” 

The company, who you have realised is Monsieur Neuvillette, responds. “That’s good to hear.”

“Although, Y/n has been quite… affectionate recently, to the point that it’s borderlining too much-”

The conversation is drowned out by a ring of an alarm on Wriothesley’s desk and the atmosphere from his office suddenly grows in tension. The voice of the two men turn from relaxed to alarmed in a matter of seconds, and that is when you decide it is probably time to take your leave, lest you intrude on whatever emergency has happened.

Dropping the lunch you brought for Wriothesley at reception, even the receptionist was confused by how quick your visit was since they typically lasted for an hour- even longer since Wriothesley likes to push the amount of time he gets with you. They don’t question it, though, merely nodding in understanding when you tell them to drop it off for him on your behalf.

Has Wriothesley always thought of your affection as too much? If it was overwhelming him, why didn’t he tell you? And why Neuvillette, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, of all people? You understood the nature of their relationship- how they both tend to confine in each other with whatever they are troubled by, but why couldn’t your husband come to you about this directly? You made an oath on your wedding day to be fully honest with each other and to never hide anything. Where did that promise go?

Arriving home with a heavy heart, you immediately flop onto the couch, arm covering your eyes as tears sting the corners of your eyes. Perhaps it’s time you lessen your displays of physical affection before you drive the love of your life away.

Wriothesley, looking down at the contents of your boxed lunch, feels his heart warm in his chest at your display of care. How fortunate he is to have someone like you, he thinks before eating, satisfying his hungry stomach that has been aching for food since half an hour ago. He wonders why you didn’t see him personally and dropped it off instead, he would have liked to eat with you beside him.  

Whatever the reason, he’ll make sure to drop by your favourite bakery to purchase some conch madeleines as a thank you. 

When he returns home later in the evening, you’re asleep on the couch, curled up with only a book on your chest to protect you from the chilly air seeping into the house. Wriothesley quickly lays his coat over you, bookmarking the page you were at before retreating to change into more relaxing clothes. You still have not roused when he returns and as much as it pains him to disturb you, he doesn’t want you napping too late lest it disturbs your sleep schedule.

“Y/n?” He gently shakes you. Slowly, you come to wakefulness, eyes fluttering open as you gaze up at your husband.

“Wriothesley? You’re home?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes whilst slowly sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Nearing six in the evening.”

“Oh my! I didn’t mean to sleep that long! I’ll go get dinner ready, you should rest, you must have had a long day-”

Silencing you with a warm kiss to your forehead, you don’t melt into it like you usually would, his words from earlier slamming back into you like a brick. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, merely brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll cook,” Wriothesley offers, grabbing something he left on the table behind him. “Have some madeleines I bought for you whilst you wait.”

He places a bag of the baked goods in your hands and you smile at him, lips chapped and eyes still drowsy, yet Wriothesley thinks you’re the most beautiful being to ever exist. 

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” The dark-haired leaves you with another kiss to your temple before turning around to go into the kitchen. However, you stop him with a tug on his wrist which you drop almost immediately when he turns around, acting as if his skin was an open flame that licked you. 

“Darling, you have a sticker on your arm.” You reach up to grab the piece of adhesive, ripping it off him in one smooth motion. 

“Those melusines,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For how much Wriothesley scolds them, he cannot bring himself to actually get mad at them, letting the little creatures play pranks instead of reprimanding them. 

“I’m surprised they keep getting by you. Maybe you need to sharpen your instincts.”

“Quiet, you,” there’s no bite to his words.

“They put a little crab on you,” you giggle. “Must be going through an ocean-themed sticker book. You had a little shell on you yesterday.”

“I did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I find it funny.” 

He sits down beside you, dinner momentarily forgotten. “Do you now?” The dark-haired murmurs. “Turns out my own spouse is against me also.”

“If it brings me amusement, why not let the melusines play their pranks a little longer?”

“You are an awful influence,” Wriothesley winds his arms around your torso, pushing you down into the pillows of the couch. There, you almost sink into him, lured by the warmth of his embrace, but the memory of what you overheard sinks into your gut like an icicle, and your smile fades.

You pat his shoulders in surrender. “Shouldn’t you be working on dinner, dear? It’s already quite late.” You pray he doesn’t notice the way you have suddenly altered the mood, drying the playful atmosphere.

If he does notice, he doesn’t comment on it, getting up with a groan before retreating into the kitchen. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

There’s a whistle from the doorway to your bedroom, low and appreciative, and the culprit is no one other than Wriothesley. He walks towards you, draping himself over your figure sat in front of the mirror. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Clorinde and I are going to dinner together,” you tell him nonchalantly, as if all of his weight wasn’t on your shoulders right now. 

He pouts. “When will you be home?”

“Not too late, that’s for sure. We’re meeting at the other side of the Court of Fontaine, though.”

“An evening without my love, whatever shall I do?”

“You’ll live,” you smile before raising a necklace up to him. “Help me put this on?”

With a huff, he raises himself off your back and gently takes the jewellery from your hands, careful with the jewels that adorn it. His cold touch grazes against your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine as he successfully clasps it together. When you meet his gaze in the mirror, it’s full of adoration and admiration, and you have to busy yourself with your hair lest it flusters you too much. 

Standing up, you swiftly walk out of the bedroom and towards the front door. Wriothesley trails behind you without much thought. “I’ll get going now before I’m too late.”

“Do you need me to accompany you there?” 

“It’s alright, thank you for offering.” Disappointment floods him like an ocean as he watches you put on your shoes. With one final fidget of your clothes, you deem yourself presentable and turn to him. “See you tonight, darling-”

“-Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” Your eyes widen in alarm as you begin frantically patting yourself down. “I brought my wallet, keys? They’re here, what am I forgetting?”

Wriothesley pretends like your cluelessness doesn’t hurt more than it actually does. He taps his cheek. “A kiss.”

“Oh, of course. How could I be so careless?” you laugh, the corners of your eyes scrunching with delight. Wriothesley has a remark resting on the tip of his tongue but it quickly dies when you step forward, anchoring your hand on his chin before you press a kiss to his cheek; to both cheeks for good measure. 

“Love you,” you murmur when parting. 

The desire to keep you home is a burning one, and pleads of ‘stay’ threaten to spill from his mouth. There is nothing more he wants than to be in your arms, to cling to you until the weekend is over in the blink of an eye, but you are your own person, and no matter how needy he is, Wriothesley should not stand in the way of your fun. 

“I love you more,” he sighs, holding open the front door for you. “Be back soon.”

“I’ll try. Bye dear!” You blow him a kiss before walking out of your garden.  

He watches you leave with a heart heavy with longing, closing the front door once you’re out of sight and tries to sigh the feeling of emptiness away. 

Later that night, Wriothesley greets you the second he hears the front door being unlocked, urgent strides allowing him to turn the corner just as you open the door, looking as pristine as you did when you left. There’s a small, tired smile on your face, but you look happy, blissful expression brightening when you see him. 

“Hello, love,” you say, slipping your shoes off.

“Welcome back,” he says, embracing you with one, muscular arm whilst pulling you in for a kiss. Your hands unusually fly up to hold his shoulders and Wriothesley thinks he’s imagining the way you push him slightly, as if trying to get him out of your personal space. Yet your grasp on him was so tight, creating temporary divots in his skin that he doesn’t really know what you’re trying to do.

Why are you trying to push him away in the first place? The thought of you not wanting him near is upsetting enough to make him unknowingly tighten his grip around you, causing you to stumble into him from the momentum. 

You look up at him, shocked whilst he gazes down at you with a storm of terror gathering in his eyes. For the first time since the two of you got married all those years ago, a rift forms.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Whatever occurred that night isn’t a topic of conversation, ever. The two of you retreated to bed after a quick conversation of how your evenings were before devolving into other topics, like what the week ahead had in store, restaurants you two should visit sometime, new boutiques and bakeries you’ve been hoping to explore- little chats that hold more meaning as the days roll by.

During it all, there was an undeniable heaviness to the conversation that made it slightly uncomfortable. Wriothesley cannot remove the memory of how you tried to push him away and you cannot forget the shocked look in his eyes. The more you picture it, the guiltier you feel, heart sinking in your chest.

You thought that it was what Wriothesley wanted: more space from you, an opportunity to breathe without you overwhelming his space.

So why do you feel so bad about respecting his wishes?

“What a lovely view!” You exclaim excitedly, running toward a patch on the grass that sits a few metres away from a nearby beach, the sound of waves meeting shore a soothing lullaby and a testament to how calm the day is. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you’re out on a picnic with the love of your life.

“Here’s a nice spot to set up, what do you think, Wriothesley?” You ask.

“Sounds amazing, darling,” he responds, setting down the picnic basket when you’ve laid out the blanket. You sit down with an unglamorous huff, leaning back onto your hands to let the morning sun soak into your features.

Morning picnics were one of yours and Wriothesley’s favourite date ideas. The best time to be together was before the sun would rise to its highest peak, bearing hot sunrays that make everything uncomfortable for everyone. Fontaine’s sun is never merciful either, which is why the nation is perfect for diving and all other water-related activities, but when you are simply walking around, it becomes rather suffocating.

The Fortress of Meropide’s administrator takes a seat beside you and you indulge by resting your head on his shoulder, hoping that he isn’t uncomfortable under your touch. The dark-haired hasn’t shaken you off yet, so you keep resting against him.

“How did you discover this place?” You ask.

“Siora told me of it, said that a passenger on the aquabus was talking to her about it. She thought that it sounded like a delightful place to take you to,” he answers and you can’t help but smile, fiddling with your fingers.

Melusines and their wholesome ways. You’ll find a way to thank Siora later. “How kind of her and how fortunate for us.”

“I take it you like it here then?”

“I love it,” you tuck your legs closer to your chest and Wriothesley leans back on his arms as well, letting your hands rest beside each other as the sea continues to crash on the shore before you. There are seals resting nearby too, ships pass by here and there, and seagulls stop near the two of you before flying away, but the only thing that matters to Wriothesley is you leaning on his shoulder.

Sharing with him the breakfast sandwiches you packed, no words are exchanged, merely the sound of waves crashing against the shore occupy the tranquil silence. It’s not until a few minutes later that Wriothesley speaks. 

“Will you be visiting me at the office today?” He asks.

You tear your gaze away from the horizon. “Perhaps. Do you want me to?”

“Would I really be asking if I didn’t?”

“Please, forego the sass, your grace,” you snort and he rolls his eyes, an affectionate smile pulling on his lips. 

“Seriously though, I would like you to. You know how dreary and boring weekends at the prison get, would be much better having you there.”

“Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Is it working?” 

“Maybe,” you mutter, grinning. “Would you like me to bring lunch with me or shall we go find a place to eat?”

“How about takeout? Hey wait, now that I think about it, why didn’t you stay the other day when you brought lunch for me? I would have much rather seen your pretty face than the receptionist’s.”

You ignore the butterflies blooming in your stomach because of his compliment. “An emergency happened just as I reached there. I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it, so I left.”

Confusion shines in his eyes, his expression giving away the cogwork ticking in his brain as he tries to pinpoint what emergency you could be referring to. When the pieces click, his eyes widen a little. “I see. You did the right thing, my love,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’ll visit you today,” you whisper, toying with the hem of your clothes as you wait for his response. 

“Amazing. I’m looking forward to it, then”

You stay true to your word, walking down the path you recognise like the back of your hand. The guards need not think twice about welcoming you in, guiding you straight in the direction of Wriothesley’s office. 

Since being with him, you’ve grown less and less afraid of how daunting the Fortress can feel, adapting to the chill knowing that there is someone in there who will set himself ablaze to keep you warm. Yet, today you walk in with apprehension clasped around your ankles, threatening to pull you under with each step. 

It’s ridiculous, you know Wriothesley would never turn you away or shun you, but the mind is the worst enemy and yours can’t stop replaying the conversation you overheard weeks ago. You know Wriothesley could open those heavy doors of his and greet you with something more grim than loving and cast you aside, and you have to hold your breath when the guards knock on your behalf.

Your heart skips a beat when they push open the doors, revealing your husband crouched over his desk, hands mussed in his hair to keep them out of his eyes. He looks up at you and the way a smile manifests on his features is akin to that of fire melting ice, fatigue dissipating as you step inside his office.  

“Hello, dear,” you greet, tone soft and controlled, unlike the thrashing of your gut.

“Hi,” he stands up and takes great strides towards you. Naturally, you open your arms for him; unnaturally, you merely hug him instead of greeting him with a kiss. Wriothesley keeps you locked in his arms as he digs his nose into your neck and you feel the way his eyes flutter close against your skin.

“Long day?”

“Draining too,” he murmurs. 

“Oh dear, we cannot have your grace tired, whatever shall we do!” You gasp overdramatically, clearly poking fun at him because you are perhaps one of the only people who could do so in this entire building. 

The dark-haired accepts it and doesn’t bother to correct your use of formalities. Instead, he retracts his head out of your neck to look at you with hopeful eyes instead. “You could give me a kiss.” 

“Did you do anything today to earn it?”

“I need to earn my kisses now?”

“You should shut up sometimes,” you murmur before placing your hands along his jaw, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He smiles against you, biting back a quip when his hand comes to the base of your neck, holding you against him. You can tell he needed the proximity, judging by his little exhale and the way his shoulders slouch, so you let him take his time and ignore the nagging in your heart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Wriothesley is losing his mind. He has been since you left the Fortress of Meropide, and was left to freeze in the ache of your lack of affection. A goodbye kiss is customary between you two and when you didn’t give him one before leaving, it felt like a slap to the face. He would have much rather you just slapped him, actually, so what gives? 

You’re not rejecting his advances, but you’re not explicitly initiating anything either. Does that mean he should back off, too? Did he do something to upset you, and if so, when? All this thinking and speculating is making him feel like a pathetic headless chicken who can’t even talk to his spouse-

“-Wait!” You exclaim, just as he was about to grab the knob to the front entrance and step out. Instead, Wriothesley turns around to be greeted by the sigh of you frantically scrambling to him, and his heart can’t help but come alive, silencing his thoughts.

Stopping to a slide before him, he can’t hold back a soft grin. Despite just wrangling out of the claws of sleep, you’re so breathtaking, delicate in the mornings when no one else is around but him. The dark-haired is grateful that only he is able to witness you like this, that you trust him with this vulnerable side of you.

You don’t meet his gaze, eyes pinned to his chest instead. “Your tie is crooked,” you murmur hands reaching out before he even gets a chance to look down. “Let me help you.”

How can he deny such a kind request of yours? You’re gentle with him, undoing his knot and weaving it together until it looks proper, but Wriothesley couldn’t care what his tie looks like. You could be making a total fool of him and he wouldn’t care, too entranced by your glow to tear his eyes away from you. There’s a little scrunch in your forehead as you concentrate, mouth slightly parted and you’re not oblivious to his gaze either, too familiar with the intensity of it to get shy. 

Finally satisfied with your work, you let go, patting his shoulders and smoothing out any wrinkles in his garment. “There. All done.” 

“Thank you, dear,” he murmurs. 

Wriothesley is expecting a kiss from you, waits for the moment that you’ll rise onto your toes and place a peck on his lips to fill him with some energy for the day. He waits for the familiar feeling of your lips pressing against his, and waits for the rush of adrenaline that your touch always manages to ignite.

Except it never comes, and it hurts most to confess that some part of him preempted this. You step away from him without another word, or kiss, and his heart burns at your retraction, unease fluttering the lining of his stomach when you turn around to retreat into the living room. Wriothesley moves without thinking, a hand coming up to your waist to stop your steps as he forcefully pulls you back to him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one far more intense than the ones you usually give this early in the morning. 

You notice the desperation that bleeds from him; a certain fervour uncharacteristic in situations of morning domesticity. 

There’s a bright glimmer of surprise in your eyes when he pulls away, as if he had kissed away all your fatigue and shocked wakefulness into you. 

“Have a good day at work,” you murmur, barely able to choke the words out. 

“I will,” he replies, opening the door. You stay and watch him go, still trying to recover your breath over his passionate display of affection. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day his racing thoughts get to him is the eighth day of this strange treatment of yours. At this point, he’s become insatiable, barely able to hold it together as you remain in the centre of his world. He wants your affection again, he wants your displays of love, he wants you near him so badly that it’s driving him up the walls of the Fortress. 

It’s irrational for him, a grown man, to skirt around his problems as if he was a teenager. For some reason, Wriothesley has no issue locking up and containing some of Fontaine’s most dangerous criminals, yet when it comes to you, he becomes a lovesick fool who craves everything his partner can give. 

You still are not initiating any displays of affection, keeping to yourself unless it is him acting first. 

But after being locked in his own study for hours, unable to distract himself from you when he was really meant to be reading some new court documents from Neuvillette, he snaps. Pushing his chair out with more force than necessary, he searches for you in the living room, where you are curled up in the corner, reading.

“Is everything alright?” Wriothesley’s interruption shocks you, and you jolt your head up to meet his gaze. 

You are met with the sight of him leaned against the wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Why wouldn’t they be?” You ask, not letting your gaze linger for too long on his arms before sitting up just a little straighter.

“Dunno. Just double checking.”

“Okay,” you hum softly, nodding. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” How could you switch this up on him so quickly?

“Yeah.”

“Fine, amazing, just dandy.” 

You raise an eyebrow at your husband, not truly believing him but you decide it’s best not to press on. “Alright… but if anything is wrong, don’t be afraid to tell me.” You go back to your book and your hair falls perfectly in front of your face to hide it from him.

Wriothesley shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to find the words to speak up and ask why you were acting so weird. It’d been two hours and twenty-four minutes (and counting) since you last saw him when he disappeared into his study, were you not concerned for him in the slightest? Sure you dropped off a plate of fruit and refilled his teapot with hot water, but normally your check-ins would be a little more frequent, and a little more encouraging than just a morale boost through food. 

Where was the cheek kiss you always gave him before you left?

Deciding not to press on any further, your husband sighs before leaving, his arms and heart feeling emptier than usual. You are only in the next room, but why do you feel like you’re on the other side of Teyvat?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day Wriothesley snaps is the day Sigewinne asks him to be nicer to the guards of the Fortress because his foul mood is darkening the already glum prison. His subordinates must have sent her knowing that he couldn’t possibly lash out at her, and they were right, but she really didn’t need to comment on the way his veins have been more prominent recently, or how creases are forming on his forehead from how hard he’s been scowling. To top it off, she said that he should delay the appearance of wrinkles for as long as necessary, because there’s a good chance they’ll come earlier than he wants.

He’s not even a day over thirty, and yet, he is being reprimanded for ‘ageing’. But he knows the problem, and he’ll be damned if he lets it drag out for another day. 

“Welcome home, baby-” your greeting is cut off unceremoniously by your husband, who practically drags you into his embrace, closing you in with no space for you to breathe or move. Your cries of alarm are muffled against his chest, and he easily picks you up before striding the path to your shared bedroom. There, he all but throws you onto the bed, your neck resting on the pillows as he climbs on after you. “Wriothesley?”

He shushes you.

“What-”

“-I need this,” he wraps around you like a vine and breathes you in with the fervour of a man starved. 

When you try to shuffle away from under him, or at the very least sit up, Wriothesley groans, borderlining a growl as he tightens his arms around your middle. You don’t question or disobey his wants, merely sinking your head into the pillows in understanding that he must have had a particularly rough day. 

So instead of repelling his touch, you give in and let a hand snake up to his hair, playing with it as you let Wriothesley lay atop you. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders melts away, and the way you’re scratching his scalp is enticing him to rest, except there is a barrier keeping him from reaching a haven of dreams and he won’t rest peacefully until he’s broken through it.

“Why have you been so distant lately?” He garbles, voice a lot shakier from the usual stoic Wriothesley that you are used to.

You heard him loud and clear, but a pathetic ‘pardon?’ slips past your lips.

“I said, why have you been so distant lately?” This time, he’s firm, determination seeping into his tone as a hand of his sneaks out from underneath you to search for your hand. After patting around, he finds it and holds it gently, raising it to press a long kiss to your knuckles. 

It’s silent. You don’t have anything to say in response and it’s past the grace period where you can give an excuse and make it sound like the truth, and Wriothesley looks up at you with expectant eyes. There’s hurt in them but as much as you’d like to mend the heartbroken expression of his, admitting the truth is difficult, because it has eaten you alive, gnawing at your heart for days on end. 

“I…I don’t have it in me to tell you,” you murmur quietly, looking away and slipping your hand out of his, but Wriothesley is tired of this dance of yours and chases after your touch, this time roughly grasping your wrists. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you rooted. 

“I didn’t do anything, did I?” He asks, raising your hand to his cheek. 

Your voice is quiet when you confess. “If I said you didn’t, I’d be lying.” 

The dark-haired stiffens. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you cough.

“No, Y/n, be honest with me here.”

“You’re going to laugh at me, or find me ridiculous.” Wriothesley’s heart clenches at your admittance, frowning at the fractures of insecurity piercing you like glass, but most of all, he hates that he can’t stop you from feeling this way. “I thought what I did was what you wanted.”  

“Which was?” 

“Some distance, just- not me crowding your personal space all the time.”

“Why would I ever want that?”

“I can get overbearing sometimes, and I don’t know, just assumed that would annoy you.”

“You’re not telling me everything, I can tell something happened to make you feel this way. Please, darling, just tell me the truth. I promise you I won’t judge or think differently of you.” 

You sigh. “I… I overheard you and Monsieur Neuvillette the other day- when I dropped off lunch. You said that my affection was sometimes too much, and that I was making you uncomfortable, so I thought that you wouldn’t want me to be around you anymore. I didn’t want to drive you away so I, y’know…”

Confusion fills him stomach like water and it takes a few moments before it hits him, the memory coming back to him. You heard his conversation out of context- he wasn’t complaining about you, no, quite the opposite, but it just seems that you weren’t there for the parts that mattered most, and now you can’t even bear to look him in the eye. 

“Honey, please look at me,” his voice thins into a vulnerable whisper that pleads for you to glance his way so you can see how he is head over heels in love with you. 

When your gaze finally meets his, he almost cracks under the weight of your sadness, and it dawns upon him that you can’t feel the adoration he holds for you, dripping from his heart into your hands. You can’t see the mountains he’d overcome just to end the day resting in your arms. You don’t know the extent he would go just to win your love.

It’s a fact that kicks at his knees, shuns him down and bruises his heart. If the Fortress of Meropide has taught him anything, it’s that there is no point holding your feelings back from living fully. There is no point to contain the human heart that has every desire to live with others, he has seen the sorrow of prisoners saying goodbye to loved ones, and how they dwell over words they should have said. Even his own time as a prisoner taught him so, because everytime he sat behind those bars, the faces of people he should have been more open to kept him awake at night. 

Wriothesley would rather drown in primordial water than see you, the most important person in his life, hurting over his own negligence. You have been feeling half-loved because of him and he doesn’t know how he can make it up to you.

“You misunderstand. I wasn’t talking about you negatively, I was talking to Neuvillette about how loved you made me feel that way, and how grateful I am to have someone like you as my partner,” he confesses earnestly, eyes pleading for you to believe him.

You blink at him, comprehending his words carefully. “Really?” You ask.

“I would never think otherwise,” he whispers.

As if a weight was lifted from your shoulders, a smile pulls at your lips and suddenly, a laugh spills from them, causing your expression to scrunch up with joy, looking the most lively Wriothesley has seen you in a while. He laughs with you too, just a little. 

“I’m sorry,” you confess through dying fits of laughter. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that, how stupid.”

He shakes his head, “you have nothing to apologise for, you’re not at fault. But I beg you, never hide things like this from me again and tell me whenever something bothers you.”

You nod, “I will.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Never ever think that I want to be away from you,” Wriothesley grumbles, hiding himself in the crook of your neck. “That was the worst week of my life.” 

“Sorry for putting you through all that.”

“Stop apologising.” He demands. “Just, no more secrets.” 

“I love you, Wriothesley.” 

He sighs shakily, relief tangible in his tone. “I love you more.”

A damp patch forms on your collar bone right where his tears would fall, and you place a kiss on his forehead for each drop you feel on your skin. There is still much to discuss, much to mend between the two of you, but his hands run along your skin like he’s trying to memorise and mark you, so you never doubt his devotion again. 

*sighs and puts hands on hips* i don't really like that ending either so don't judge lol

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[driverlando]

✧.* SECRETLY YOURS

synopsis - you sneak around with Oscar, your brothers best friend.

before you continue: this is a Norris!reader fic and is smutty so mdni. if you enjoyed pls reblog and give me a follow :)

The thrill of sneaking around with Oscar Piastri was as intoxicating as the man himself.

He was always so composed and reserved in public, but behind closed doors, he was a force to be reckoned with. You had known Oscar for a while through your brother, Lando, and the bond you had formed with the Australian driver was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Your secret relationship had been a whirlwind of stolen glances, hidden touches, and whispered promises. The paddock had become your playground, each secluded corner a potential rendezvous spot. The adrenaline of keeping your relationship under wraps only added to the excitement, and you found yourself constantly yearning for those private moments with Oscar.

It was late one night after a long day of practice sessions and meetings. The paddock was quiet, most people having retired to their hotel rooms. You and Oscar had managed to slip away unnoticed, making your way to a secluded area behind the garages. The air was thick with tension and anticipation, your heart pounding in your chest as you followed Oscar into the shadows.

Oscar glanced around to make sure you were alone before pulling you into his arms. The kiss he pressed to your lips was urgent and demanding, his hands roaming over your body with a possessiveness that left you breathless.

“Are you sure no one saw us?” you whispered, your voice trembling with excitement.

Oscar smirked, his eyes dark with desire. “Positive,” he replied, his voice a low growl. “Now, let’s make the most of our time.”

He backed you against the wall, his hands gripping your waist as he captured your lips in another searing kiss. The thrill of being caught only heightened your arousal, and you melted into his touch, your hands tangling in his hair.

Oscar’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as he pressed himself against you. The feel of his arousal against your thigh sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and you moaned softly, your body arching into his touch.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with raw desire. “Thinking about you.”

“Me too,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “I need you, Oscar.”

He groaned at your words, his hands moving to unzip your pants with practiced ease. He pushed them down your hips, followed quickly by your underwear. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat of Oscar’s touch, and you shivered in anticipation.

Oscar knelt before you, his eyes locked onto yours as he spread your legs. The intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch, and you felt a rush of arousal flood through you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

“Keep quiet,” he murmured, his voice a husky command. “We don’t want anyone to hear.”

You nodded, biting your lip to stifle a moan as he pressed a kiss to your core. The first touch of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out. Oscar’s hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he worked you over with a skill that left you breathless.

The sensation was overwhelming, and you found yourself struggling to keep quiet as Oscar’s tongue drove you to the edge. He moved with purpose, his every touch designed to bring you pleasure. The tension in your body coiled tighter and tighter, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you unraveled completely.

“Oscar,” you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. “Please, I’m so close.”

Oscar looked up at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “Not yet,” he said, his voice firm. “I want to hear you beg.”

You whimpered, the need in your body almost too much to bear. “Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “Please, I need to come.”

A satisfied smile curved his lips, and he redoubled his efforts, his tongue and fingers driving you to the brink of pleasure. The tension in your body snapped, and you came with a shuddering gasp, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

But Oscar didn’t stop. He continued his relentless assault, pushing you into a state of overstimulation that left you writhing against the wall. The pleasure was almost too intense, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your climax.

“Hold on,” Oscar commanded, his voice a dark caress. “We’re not done yet.”

He stood, his hands moving to unbuckle his pants with a speed that made your head spin. He freed himself, the sight of his arousal sending another wave of desire through you. He turned you around, pressing your hands against the wall as he positioned himself behind you.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation.

You nodded, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he entered you with a powerful thrust. The sensation was overwhelming, and you moaned softly, your fingers gripping the wall for support.

Oscar set a brutal pace, his hands gripping your hips as he drove into you with a mix of passion and control. The intensity of his movements left you breathless, the pleasure building with each powerful thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice a rough whisper. “So perfect.”

You could only moan in response, the pleasure too intense to form coherent words. Oscar’s hands moved to grip your thighs, lifting you slightly to deepen the angle. The new position sent you spiraling closer to the edge, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you came again.

“Oscar, I’m going to—”

“Do it,” he commanded, his voice a dark growl. “Come for me.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your climax. Oscar followed you, his own release a shuddering exhalation as he buried himself in you.

For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your bodies. Oscar pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his touch tender and reassuring.

“We should get back,” he murmured, his voice a soft promise. “Before anyone notices we’re gone.”

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah, we should.”

Oscar helped you dress, his touch gentle and affectionate. The adrenaline of the moment slowly gave way to a sense of calm and contentment, and you knew that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

As you slipped back into the paddock, the thrill of your secret still fresh in your mind, you couldn’t help but smile.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

this fuckin Esquire photoshoot has me so feral istg

Summary: You were Helaena's best friend, but her brothers were more than a little interested in you.

Warnings: Modern!AU, mutual pining, tension, angst, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, slight whump, brief descriptions of domestic violence (from a Lannister), SMUT (MINORS DNI), wet dreams, masturbation, threesome (M/M/F), oral (f and m receiving), praise kink, fingering, p in v sex, anal sex, double penetration, spitroast, and multiple creampies

word count | 7.6k🤙🏻

It had been a couple years since you and Helaena Targaryen became best friends. You both met at university, sharing multiple classes and you just clicked, having similar interests and sharing the same sense of humor. It wasn’t long before she had invited you over for a family night at their estate, meeting most of the family, along with her brothers. 

At first, Aemond didn’t really pay you any mind. He was withdrawn, cautious, even a bit suspicious, as he usually was, though he appreciated that you must’ve been a good friend to his sister. Helaena was never the best at making friends, considered odd to most, so it was a shock to everyone when she said she was bringing her best friend over for a couple nights. You seemed pretty shy yourself, so Aemond made no effort into getting to know you, besides keeping an eye on you to make sure you didn’t cross any lines. Though, that changed after a while.

It took him a few months to start warming up to you, and even then he still wasn’t comfortable being left alone with you. You weren’t quite past the small talk stage, and Aemond absolutely despised small talk, though he was never one to have deep conversations with borderline strangers either. Helaena kept trying to convince him to talk to you sometime, stating how wonderful you were to her and how you’d be a wonderful friend to him as well. So, only for his sister, Aemond started trying to get to know you.

After another couple months, Aemond cursed himself for not trying to get to know you sooner. You were very pleasant to be around, you were kind like Helaena, thoughtful and above all, could keep up with his talks about philosophy. You had very strong opinions, a better word would be convictions. He’d never admit to it, but Aemond admired your sense of justice and how you thought the world should be, even if there were certain aspects of your opinions he’d never believe himself. You listened to him when no one else would, spoke plainly when anybody else besides his family would be too afraid to. It wasn’t long before he gained feelings for you, even though he knew he shouldn’t have. It was hard not to, with you being around almost all the time. Though, that came with another problem.

Aegon.

Though completely different to his brother in almost every way, Aegon did share some similarities with Aemond. When you first arrived with Helaena, Aegon was indifferent. He cared about his family no matter how much he tried not to, so any outsider always put him on edge. But whereas Aemond would be completely withdrawn and prefer to observe, Aegon would be the opposite, trying to talk to you any chance he got, trying to figure out what your game was, if you had any malicious intent with his sister. It was infuriated when he couldn’t find any flaw, any hint that you may have been using them. He cornered you that first night, putting on his favorite mask to try to overwhelm you with accusatory questions.

And despite all of Aegon’s antics, he never scared you away and you never faltered. He got a lashing from Helaena afterwards though, accusing him of trying to scare away her only friend. He rolled his eyes at that comment, he was just trying to see if you were good enough for his sister, that’s all.

Aegon kept an eye on you every time you’d come over, making sure you didn’t nick something from the family. Helaena told him you weren’t like that, not like the company he kept sometimes. Aegon never had a single friend that didn’t try to steal something or ask for money, all of his “friends” were just using him. So maybe he was projecting a little, but he told himself he was just being safe.

To Aegon’s surprise, you had turned the tables on him, cornering him in his own home, asking what his problem was. Truth be told, Aegon was just scared, scared of another person coming into their home just to use them for their money and status to just discard them when they were done. He was more than a little paranoid, he was traumatized. Most of the time, it was Aegon’s fault something was stolen from them. He trusted people too easily, made too many best friends with the wrong people. His own mother threatened to kick him out if he didn’t stop making mistakes; so he quit making mistakes. He wasn’t going to let you be another mistake, even if it would be Helaena making it and not him. He had a feeling he’d be blamed for it anyway, as he often was when something went wrong. He was tired of being the scapegoat, and he hated you for coming there and threatening to undo all his progress.

But you weren’t there to unroot his progress, or take anything from anyone, you just loved being Helaena’s friend; and you wanted to be friends with her siblings as well. And Aegon slowly started to realize that. It took him a while, but he started to see you as you truly were: Helaena’s best friend, close like sisters, looking out for one another. Like Aemond, Aegon hated that he didn’t believe his sister’s kind words about you. He was so afraid of making the same mistakes, he made a completely different one, missing out of being your friend as well. Aegon quickly tried to make up for the lost time, but thankfully, you were happy to spend time getting to know him as well.

Like his younger brother, Aegon started to fall for you too, though neither of them realized it yet.

They were fucked.

Aemond woke with a start, a cold sweat coating his entire body. He groaned as he felt the stickiness between his legs, knowing what must’ve happened, if his dreams were anything to go by.

He angrily kicked the blankets off of himself, feeling hot even though it was the middle of winter, storming to the bathroom to take a cold shower. He was embarrassed, he hadn’t had a wet dream since he was a teenager. He had so much control over himself for the longest time, so this felt like a slight to his own body. He needed to get laid, badly. It wasn’t for lack of options, Aemond knew he could get any woman into bed with him, there was just a very specific person he had in mind.

Helaena told him that you would be joining them for the holidays, your own family not doing anything to celebrate, so they didn’t mind you going tagging along, and Helaena was more than excited to get you all to herself during the festivities. Though, Aemond had plans to get you alone more than once over the course of the weekend. But what he didn’t know is Aegon was planning the exact same thing.

Aemond tore off all his sheets, bringing them to the washer, annoyed to find Aegon nearby. “Aw, did little brother have a wee accident? Did the little Aemy wet the bed? Mate, are you five?” Aemond glared at his older brother, if only looks could kill. Slowly, Aegon realized, much to Aemond’s horror. “Oh, nah, you creamed the bed!” He guffawed, almost doubling over from the force of his laughter.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll tell mum you’re using again.”

“But I’m not!”

“And do you really think she’d believe you over me?” That shut Aegon up…briefly.

“So…does this little sticky situation have anything to do with her coming over for the holiday?”

Aemond narrowed his eyes at Aegon, tensing and balling his fist, ready to punch his brother’s perfect teeth in. “What makes you ask that?”

Aegon giggled, backing away slightly, having been on the end of one of Aemond’s punches too many times to count. “Come on, little brother. The way you reacted when Helaena told everyone she’d be coming over, it was like Christmas came early…and so did you, apparently.”

“You fuckin’ twat!” Aemond tried to shove Aegon, but he dodged too quickly.

“It’s alright, brother, I’ll take her off your hands if you can’t keep the little guys in!” Aegon giggled as he ran away, throwing a mischievous smile over his shoulder.

Pfft, as if…Aemond sneered.

Besides Helaena, Aemond was the first to greet you as you exited the cab that drove you to their estate and you appreciated the modest welcome.

When you met Helaena, you had no idea her family was so…well endowed, so to speak. From her manners and how she spent her money, you’d think her family was more like yours, so you can imagine how shocked you were when you were invited to her family home for the first time, pulling up to a mansion on a huge chunk of land. It was like stepping into a fairytale. But most of the family you met was surprisingly humble. 

You were nervous about meeting her brothers, but Helaena assured you that they’d warm up to you eventually, they just had trust issues. And that they did, Daeron was no issue, considering he was studying abroad and rarely ever made it home for holidays. Aemond and Aegon, however, it was a race to see who’d warm up to you the fastest. It shocked you to see that the younger brother became friends with you first. It was very passive and slow, his opening up to you. You could tell he didn’t give information freely, and you would never be able to coax it out of him. He was like a cat, he’d come to you when and if he wanted. And when you finally gained his trust, he was like an open book. You never flinched when he showed you what was underneath his eyepatch, you thought he was beautiful and you told him so. He cried, and you held him. You liked to read together, discuss politics and human rights. You felt connected to him deeply, and you started to care about him as much as Helaena.

With Aegon, it was completely different.

When you first met Aegon, he was all over you, trying to find out all about you immediately, to the point you thought he was hitting on you. He was known for his promiscuity at the university you all went to after all, even when the campus was large, word liked to travel fast. But turns out, he wasn’t into you at all, just making sure you were “safe,” as Helaena worded it. It went on for months, feeling like you were being watched whenever you hung out with the Helaena. You were finally sick of it, confronting Aegon and telling him off without being too disrespectful. You thought you broke him for a moment, him just staring at you for the longest time but before you could turn to leave, he grabbed your wrist, quickly explaining himself, stating that he really only wanted to protect his family. He apologized for making you uncomfortable and that it’ll never happen again.

You forgave Aegon, and the two of you became fast friends. Soon, you started to hang out with all of them at the same time, but you had to remember you were Helaena’s friend first. She would always come first…even when you started to harbor crushes on her brothers. 

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help it. You weren’t the most sought after person in the world, you didn’t really know what it was like to have people vie for your attention, so these two boys sent your brain into an overload. They seemed to constantly compete for your attention, to the point you thought your feelings may have been requited for either of them. But how would that even work? You often laughed humorlessly at yourself, what a fool you must be to crush on two men at once. But you did, and you hated yourself for it. So spending a whole holiday with them would be challenging.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Helaena took you in her arms excitedly, a surprising strength making your breath escape your lungs.

“Crushing…lungs…” You heaved, giggling breathlessly when she finally let you go.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just so happy you’re here. Aemond too, right Aemy?” She tugged on her younger brother’s leather jacket sleeve, an unperceivable smile decorating his lips, one only someone close to him could notice, and notice you did. “It’s felt like forever since you’ve been able to come over.”

“That it has.” Aemond added, taking your hand and placing a soft kiss to your knuckles, making you blush.

“Ever the gentleman, eh?” You tried laughing off your flustered state, pulling him into a hug, smelling his amazing cologne that always made you want to bite him. He held you close, the cold crisp air of the winter months barely noticeable with how warm he was against you. You shivered when he let you go, his warmth leaving all too quickly. “Freezing, let’s head inside, shall we?”

The Targaryens weren’t much of a hugging family, but Aegon was, and he gave you a hug that almost put Helaena and Aemond’s to shame. For someone who was never hugged much as a child, he sure knew how to give the best ones, you thought. “Hello, love.” He smiled, his bright white teeth lighting up the room, giving a polite kiss to your cheek. You were embarrassed how fast your panties soaked through.

Suddenly, Aegon was pushed away by Aemond, who put his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sure she doesn’t want your drool all over her.”

Aegon narrowed his eyes, but still kept a smile, albeit a bit more eggy than the genuine one he directed towards you before. “Says you, brother, you’re the one clinging to her now.”

And that’s how most of the holiday went, Aemond and Aegon constantly trying to spend time alone with you, which you never understood why. You even asked Helaena why they were being fussier than usual, to which she just responded with a mischievous giggle. It was a shame, but you honestly didn’t have that much time to spend with each of them alone, the family’s bread and circuses being too grand for anyone to have alone time. Besides, you were there for Helaena and you didn’t want to leave her side for anything. Even if you, in your heart, desired to spend time with her brothers a bit more. 

During the entire holiday, you needed to relieve yourself more than once in the privacy of your guest room. You brought yourself to your peak with your vibrator, imagining Aegon’s tongue gliding up your neck, kissing his full lips, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you as he taunts you to come for him. You also imagined Aemond, his large hand squeezing your throat as he fucks you from behind, his grunts in your ear and he spills in your womb, rubbing your clit and forcing you to climax over and over until you broke for him. Even, bashfully, having them both fuck you at the same time. You knew no one would ever find out your lecherous fantasies, but you still blushed thinking about it.

You were proud you survived the Targaryen festivities without slipping up and exposing your crushes, the hardest thing you’ve ever done. You really needed to get laid, and you didn’t like it but you knew you had to move on. You needed to go on one of those dating websites, get a quick fuck and maybe even find a relationship. And when university came back in full force and you were alone in your flat with nothing but homework and the spider that had permanently made a home in your coffee cup cabinet, you did exactly that.

Julian Lannister…hmm. He was handsome, for sure. Fit, blonde and blue-eyed…not the type of blonde you personally liked and his eyes were a dark blue that could’ve passed as a type of purple in the dark. He was conventionally attractive, and that was good enough for you. 

Swipe Right.

Aegon heard a loud shatter from across the flat, his feet almost sliding across the wooden flooring as he ran to the source of the noise. “Fuck!”

His eyes widened as he saw the blood stained shards of a mirror scattered in a pile on the floor, seeing his brother’s enraged face glued to his phone. “Aemond?” He exclaimed. “What the bloody hell is going on? What have you done to yourself?” Aegon rushed to Aemond’s side, trying to gently grab his cut up hand, but he lurched away. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond didn’t say a word as he lifted his phone screen for Aegon to see. A text from Helaena. She’s got a boyfriend now. Aegon understood now, as he felt his heart sink in his chest and a similar rage bubble in his chest. But alas, he didn’t feel the need to punch a mirror like his idiot brother did. “Ah…so that’s why you decided to mutilate yourself, you twat?”

It took some convincing, but Aegon got his little brother to let him clean the wounds on his hands. “I fucked it all up…” Aemond mumbled.

Aegon sighed, wrapping a bandage around Aemond’s hand. “So did I. We had the whole holiday but we pussied out, no one to blame but ourselves. Woman like her, she was bound to be swept off her feet eventually.”

“It should’ve been one of us…”

“Yeah…but hey, we’re still her best mates, that’s not gonna change. I’d rather be in her life as a friend than not at all, yeah?”

Aemond nodded his head in agreement. “Just wish I could’ve shown her how happy I can make her, and how happy she makes me.”

“The future’s not set in stone, right? Sure, she has a man now, but that doesn’t mean she’s gonna stay with him forever.” Aemond chuckled. “What?”

“I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said in your life.”

“Mmm, yeah, right, ruin the moment, why don’t ya?”

“Baby, baby, please-!” You were interrupted with a slap from your boyfriend, the force of it shoving you to the floor with a cry.

“Don’t you dare “baby” me, slut! I knew you didn’t love me, you’ll never love anyone more than those Targaryen freaks! Hope you die in a ditch, bitch.” Julian stormed out of your flat, slamming the door so hard the picture you hung up of the two of you fell and shattered, glass flying everywhere.

It had been two months leading up to this moment. Two months since you started dating Julian, who started out as a one night stand, then a two night stand, then you started fucking every night until he asked you to be his girlfriend. In truth, you should’ve told him no, but the sex was decent and you desperately wanted to get over Aegon and Aemond. You led him on, and that was your fault. Now, you were paying the consequences. A bruise on your cheek formed quickly, and you cut up your hands picking up the pieces of glass in a sobbing fit. You deserved this, didn’t you? 

You needed to see your best friends. Honestly, you wanted to see your boys, but you knew that would not turn out well. You were in a bad state, you needed to talk to someone that wouldn’t judge you when you couldn’t control what came out of your mouth while venting. Helaena might be upset you had feelings for her brothers, but you knew ultimately you wouldn't lose her because of it. So to Helaena’s you went.

But what you didn’t know was that Aegon and Aemond were at their sister’s flat while she was at a study getaway with one of her classes, making sure her cat Dreamfire was getting proper attention. If you had known that, you never would’ve knocked on her door.

It was Aemond who opened the door first, his eye widening and brows furrowing in concern, seeing your tear stained face…and then the bruise. “What happened?” He almost growled, pulling you past the threshold into the flat before you could even protest. Aegon said your name in gleeful surprise, but his smile immediately fell when he noticed something was wrong. 

“I never should’ve come here.” You cried, trying to hide your face from the brothers.

“Hey, hey…” Aegon whispered, gently trying to pry your hands away from your face. “Did that Lannister prick do this?” You didn’t have to say anything for them both to know he guessed correctly, both looking at each other with a similar expression. “We’ll kill him.”

“No, please!” You quickly exclaimed, knowing that they could and get away with it. “Please, he’s not worth it. It’s over between us, I don’t want to waste any more time on him, please. Can I just…please, let’s just watch a movie or something, okay?”

Aemond pulled your weak form into a tight hug, his warmth calming you slightly. “We can do whatever you want, love. Right, Aegon?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He placed his large hand on your shoulder, smoothing the wrinkles on your shirt in a soothing motion. “We’ll always be here for you.”

Since that night, neither Aegon nor Aemond left you alone. If they weren’t in the same area as you, they were always texting you, making sure you were okay or if you needed anything. It felt like you had two husbands doting on you. The thought made you a little bit too happy. But one thing that worried you a little was how fast you heard of something bad happening to Julian. It didn’t even take a week for you to hear about him being in a motor “accident.” He wasn’t majorly injured or anything, but he had to stay in the hospital for a couple weeks before he could start physical therapy to learn how to walk again. You felt bad for how apathetic you were about the whole thing. You were just relieved he was out of your life.

You could spend time with your best friends without feeling guilty now, knowing you didn’t have a boyfriend to cater too. You could finally get yourself off without feeling like you were cheating in a way. You were free. But the downside, your crushes on Aemond and Aegon had only gotten stronger. You would have movie nights all the time whenever you weren’t busy with college or your job. You spent time with them and Helaena at the same time and it was lovely. You didn’t know how it managed to get this way, but they’d even spend the night at your flat sometimes. Not that you minded all that much, it just made it harder to act like a normal person who didn’t have extremely strong feelings for someone, or someones.

It often was the same way, you, Aegon, and Aemond all sitting on your couch watching some stupid movie, much like tonight. And like always, you sat between the two brothers. But something felt different, it felt more charged. Electrified. Maybe it was because Aemond had his hand on your thigh, squeezing occasionally, as if he hadn’t really noticed what he was doing. Or maybe it was because Aegon had his arm over your shoulder, leaning into you just enough you could smell his shampoo. You felt hot all over, and what made it worse, a sex scene in the movie started to play.

It was eerily silent, and you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beating wildly. Aemond squeezed your thigh so hard you shifted in your spot with a wince, making you lean into Aegon more, which in turn made Aegon squeeze your shoulder. You felt like you were going to start hyperventilating, so you did the only thing you thought to do. You quietly excused yourself, claiming you needed a glass of water. And you did, the cool liquid flowing down your throat with ease, but it only made you wish something else was flowing down your throat…

You were startled out of your thoughts by Aegon gently calling your name, “You alright there, love?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You stuttered, turning around and leaning against the counter. “Just thirsty.”

“Yeah, you seem really thirsty.” He smirked, coming closer to you slightly. “You sure you’re alright, you seem a little frazzled. Did something happen? Did Julian contact you? I sweat, if that bastard-”

“No, nothing like that Egg, I promise. I just…”

When you didn’t finish your sentence, Aegon walked closer and closer to you, your heart starting to race. You tried backing up but you were already pushed up against the cool counter of the kitchen, making it easy for Aegon to corner you. You felt your face heat up as you started to feel his body heat. You cursed yourself silently as you felt your clit start to throb, a wetness starting to leak out of you. “Is there something you’re not telling me, love?” He asked.

You didn’t say anything, but Aegon could tell what you wanted to say. Ever since you started spending more time with him and his brother, they figured out you must’ve had feelings for both of them. Aemond was the first to suspect it, as observant as he was. He noticed the way your pulse quickened whenever he held your hand as “friends.” He saw how your chest heaved whenever each of them got close to you, though Aegon never noticed before. But now, after hearing all over his little brother’s observations Aegon could see the lust in your eyes, saw how your chest heaved. He placed a hand just over your left breast, feeling how fast your heart was beating. 

“Aegon…” You whispered, and he couldn’t help but place his lips against yours. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth, a small tear running down the side of your face. Aegon’s hands ran up your sides, gently squeezing the fat that shaped the body he loved so much. Oh, how he wanted to lift you up onto the counter, pull your pajama shorts and panties to the side and shove his cock deep inside your heat as far as you could take him. But you were different, maybe he would’ve done that with someone he didn’t care for, definitely back when he was a troubled youth. No, he had to treat you with care, and also the deal he made with Aemond. He couldn’t have you all to himself, at least not yet.

Aegon let out a whine as he forced himself to pull away, leaving the both of you breathless. “If you hadn’t already figured it out, I have some pretty strong feelings for you, love.”

“Oh, Aegon, I do too…but-”

“Aemond. You have feelings for him as well.”

Your eyes widened. “How did you-”

“We figured it out some time ago, and we’re fine with it. We, uh…have some to an agreement, if you’ll hear us out.”

Before you could question anything he was talking about, Aegon led you back to the living room, where Aemond was sitting patiently for the two of you. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck it up.”

“I don’t think so?”

Aegon sat you down in a chair opposite of them, letting you have the space to back out if you needed. They didn’t want to overwhelm you just yet. Aemond leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “So, I assume Aegon told you about our agreement?”

“Just that you had one.” You answered, which caused Aemond to shoot a glare at his older brother.

“I thought it would be best to talk to her about it together, dickhead.”

“Anyway.” Aemond growled. “Aegon and I…both have feelings for you, and we know you have feelings for us. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to choose, so we’re willing to share you…if you want.” It was like a dream come true, no, too good to be true. You couldn’t believe it. Were you dreaming? You must’ve been dreaming. “Are you still with us?”

“This…is a lot.” You sighed shakily, but you knew what your body’s answer was, you just didn’t know how you could mentally handle it. “I do want both of you, but how would that work? I know how…uh, jealous you guys can be, especially of each other. How would you handle sharing me?”

Aemond and Aegon gave each other another one of those silent looks, one of those looks that spoke a thousand words without even opening their mouths. “You’re more important to us than our jealousy. We want you in our lives, and we’re willing to do anything to keep you here.” Aemond answered.

“So, if you’re willing, we want to make you happy. But if you don’t feel comfortable…we will understand.” Aegon spoke, but his eyes were pleading, begging that you’d agree.

In the end, you knew what your answer would be. You loved those boys so much, so you couldn’t imagine having to choose between one of them or choosing neither. Why not choose both?

“You…” You smiled shyly, “have my permission to share me.”

And like a switch flipped in each of them, gone were their nervous and hopeful expressions, they were now replaced with an almost predatory and lustful gaze. You could feel the weight of two pairs of eyes looking you up and down like a meal, your core clenching around nothing. You had never been more aroused than you had ever been in your life, you could practically feel yourself dripping. The feeling got even worse when Aemond stood up from the couch, sauntering over to you and leaning his hands on the armrests of the chair you sat in. You craned your head up to meet his gaze, your eyes heavy with desire as he bit his lip and groaned softly, like he was scared of letting himself go. His silver chain that he often wore snuck out of his shirt and dangled below his neck, and it was driving you crazy how sexy this man was.

Aemond chuckled darkly as he noticed you squeezing your thighs together, causing you to blush and look down, but he gently placed his index finger underneath your chin, lifting your gaze back to his. “Tell me what you want, sweet girl.” He whispered smoothly, his voice grazing over you like silk. 

You whimpered when he reached down to squeeze your thigh. “Aemond, please…”

“Please…what? Hm?” You huffed in frustration, your body so heady with arousal it was hard to put the images in your head to words. “I can’t help you if you don’t use your words.”

“Aemond.” Aegon interrupted, and you both looked over to see him watching in amusement at your interactions with each other. “Our poor girl is so needy she can’t speak properly. You’ve been around, what do you think she wants to ask of you?”

Aemond hummed, shifting his gaze back to you. “I imagine…our pretty girl wants me to taste her pretty pussy. Am I right to assume so?” You nodded quickly, the thought making you whine. “Not good enough, love. I’m going to need you to say yes or no for me.”

“Yes, Aemond! Please…” You whined.

“Oh,” Aegon chuckled, “look who’s using her words now?”

You tensed when Aemond started to get on his knees, clenching your thighs together. “What’s wrong?” He immediately asked, and you blushed, your reasoning a bit embarrassing. “It’s okay, you can tell me. Is this not what you really want?”

“That’s not it at all, I just…” You huffed, putting aside your nervousness. “I’d like to have my first kiss with you first…”

A beat passed, one that almost lasted too long before you started to feel even more embarrassed. But Aemond smiled, a genuine, toothy smile. It was a rare thing to see him smile like that. Most of the time, he smirked or tried to hide his teeth. But god when he really smiled, it was as beautiful as Aegon’s. Aemond leaned forward, still on his knees, so you had to lean down to meet him slightly. You wondered how his kisses would be different from Aegon’s. With Aegon, when he kissed you for the first time, it was heavy weighted and passionate, he leaned his whole body against yours, almost bringing you into a hug at the same time. You felt like you couldn’t escape his kiss in the best way. But with Aemond, at first his kiss was soft and light, like he was kissing someone for the first time; but when you met him with the same eagerness, he deepened the kiss by bringing his hands up to cup your face, tilting his head to fully slot his lips perfectly against yours. It was a gentleman’s kiss, but no less passionate. If you hadn't already been sitting, you would’ve gone weak at the knees.

Aemond pulled away from you slowly, a soft clicking noise as your lips broke apart. He hummed lowly, “I always knew you’d taste so good. I’m sure your other lips will taste just as sweet.” You gasped loudly as Aemond removed your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, his eye darkening as he saw how soaked you were already. “So wet and I’ve only kissed you. Come see, brother.”

Aegon all too eagerly crossed the room to witness your wetness, his grin making a pang of arousal surge through you so strongly it almost hurt. “Like a fuckin’ virgin.” He stood behind you as Aemond placed a soft kiss on your clit, making your back arch and head loll back against Aegon’s waist, his hands rubbing your shoulders as you whimpered from Aemond’s touch. “You gonna be a good girl for us?”

“Yes, Aegon.” You breathed out, then breathing in sharply as Aemond licked up and down your folds with a groan. “Fu…”

“Mmm,” Aemond groaned, “so sweet, just like I thought.” You bit your lip as he pressed two fingers inside you, a noisy squelch giving away just how turned on you were. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Relax, or else you’ll never be able to take us.”

Aegon leaned down and started to kiss your neck, his hands reaching down to grasp at your hardened nipples. “Such a sweet girl, you’re doing so well for us, aren’t you? Taking Aemond’s fingers and tongue so well.”

You let out a borderline pornagraphic moan as Aemond thrusted his fingers inside you while flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit, Aegon’s finger roughly pinching your nipples getting you way too close way too fast. You wanted this to last so bad, but they didn’t show any signs of stopping and you weren’t about to stop them either. “Are you close already, beautiful?” Aemond asked, and you nodded. “Do you wanna come so soon? I can stop if you’d like.” He teased, sensing how desperate you must’ve been.

“No, no, please, Aemy, please. Please, I wanna come so bad. Please, let me come.” You sobbed.

“Didn’t even have to ask you to beg for it. Good girl. Come for me. Come on my fuckin’ fingers.”

You let out a strangled whine as your first orgasm washed over you, your whole body tensing and relaxing as your pussy contracted around Aemond’s fingers, your clit throbbing intensely as his tongue bullied it expertly. “Such a good girl.” You heard Aegon say, his voice sounding far away as you came down from your high.

“Did you like that, baby?” Aemond asked, palming his cock through his sweatpants. Did he even need to ask? “Aegon, you should have a taste too.” Your eyes widened, knowing how sensitive you are after you come. You wouldn’t be able to handle it. But that didn’t seem to matter to them, as Aegon quickly knelt to the floor, burying his face and tongue in your cunt, making you squeal.

“Fuck!” Aegon purred into you, fucking your pussy with his tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in overstimulation, your mouth open wide practically drooling. Aemond took advantage of that, pulling his cock from his trousers and guiding it gently into your awaiting mouth, taking him eagerly.

“Damn, baby, your mouth feels so fuckin’ good, fuck…” Aemond groaned, restraining himself and making sure he didn’t fuck your face too hard, although you didn’t seem to mind. You were slobbering and moaning on his cock, the slight vibrations making his dick twitch from how good it felt, having to pull out before he released too early. “Need to feel that pussy around my cock.”

“I’m not fuckin’ done here.” Aegon growled, determined to make you come on his mouth.

“She’s too sensitive, she won’t be able to.” That comment from Aemond only seemed to spur him on.

“Are you doubting my abilities, brother?” You had to cover your mouth from screaming when Aegon started to suck on your clit, making you arch your back and twitch against him, not sure if you were trying to get away or push him closer. And you couldn’t believe it, but you were getting closer to another orgasm. Aegon’s mouth sloppily kissing and sucking your clit was too much, it was painful but you didn’t want it to stop.

You were writhing in your chair, Aemond having to hold you down so you didn’t fall off or hurt yourself in any way, the force of his hands holding you making your orgasm rise quickly burst out of you like a fountain, spraying onto Aegon’s face, who was grinning like Cheshire Cat. “Fuck, that was so sexy, darling. If I thought you could handle it, I’d make you do that again.”

“Please, don’t…” You chuckled breathlessly.

“Think you’ll be able to handle something else, then?” You nodded meekly. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, shall we?”

Aegon and Aemond led you on wobbly legs to your bedroom, kissing all over your body wherever there was naked flesh. Already two orgasms in, you were sensitive all over, your skin tingling and tickling from their kisses. You could feel each of their hard, throbbing cocks grinding against you. You reached out blindly, not knowing whose you touched until you heard Aegon groan. “Fuck, darling, you drive me crazy. Think you can take us?”

“Anything you want.” You moaned as Aemond cupped your breast, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly.

“I want to fuck that tight cunny of yours.” Aegon growled, flipping you over onto your stomach, making you face Aemond, his cock intimidatingly erect. You instinctively licked your lips, wrapping them just over the head of his cock, making him moan. You whined when you felt Aegon push into you slowly, his thick cock stretching your channel so deliciously, feeling every ridge and vein. You had to come off Aemond’s dick when Aegon bottomed out, your face contorting in pleasure. He wasn’t as long as Aemond, but he was so incredibly thick and you could tell you were going to be sore in the morning. “Gods, so wet and tight for me. You alright, love?”

“Yes.” You moaned, trying your best to suck Aemond off properly, your spit and drool running down your chin and drenching his balls. “Fuck!” You shouted as Aegon started a steady pace, the blunt tip of his cock hitting your cervix over and over. “So…deep…feels so good, Aegon.”

“Doing so well, like you were made for this.” Aemond moaned, starting to fuck your face gently, your gags and tears spilling from you spurring him on further. You probably thought you looked like a mess, but you were beautiful to him. To both of them. The way your brows furrowed when they went too deep, your face slightly red with blush and exertion, the pretty noises you made; they were cuntstruck.

“Fuck, gods, no, not yet.” Aegon grunted, his cock twitching inside of you. “Your pussy feels too good.” He moaned, wanting to slow down but ultimately pistoned into you with a force that made you surge forward and gag on Aemond’s cock deeper. Aegon let out a beautiful low groan as he came inside you, his hot sticky cum painting your inner walls white.

Before you could do anything, Aemond was pushing Aegon out of the way, quickly replacing Aegon’s cock with his, filling you to the brim immediately, causing you to cry out. “Her pussy’s that good, huh?” Aemond taunted, groaning loudly as he fucked you like he was trying to break you.

“Yes.” Aegon answered simply, laying next to you, lazily stroking his cock as he watched your facial expressions, wanting to get hard again. “Such a pretty girl.” He kissed you passionately, paired with Aemond’s thrusts made your head spin.

“Gods, I could fuck this pussy forever…” Aemond moaned, pushing the small of your back into the bed, forcing you to arch your back for him, his cock hitting deeper and deeper.

“Please…!” You whined obnoxiously, making the boys chuckle. You felt so out of it, the only thing registering was how good Aemond’s cock was making you feel. “Fuck! Ah!” You sobbed, feeling your uterus contract, another powerful orgasm starting to bubble up inside you.

“Can I fuck you again, darling?” Aegon asked softly, his cock already hard again and ready for you.

“No way, not now, not when I’m so fuckin’ close.” Aemond growled, keeping his body hunched over you protectively.

“I didn’t say you had to stop. If she’ll let me, I’d like to use that other tight hole of hers.” Your eyes widened, a deep pang of arousal surging through you like lightning at the thought of being so thoroughly filled by both of the men you loved. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable-”

“Yes.”

“Uh, are you sure-?”

“Yes, Aegon! Please! I want you both to fuck me at the same time.”

Aegon smirked, looking at Aemond. “Well, you heard the lady.”

Aemond positioned himself under you so that you could ride him, while Aegon got behind you, grabbing a bottle of lube and applied some to your puckered hole generously, pushing a finger in slowly. You whimpered at the stretch, clenching around Aemond’s cock, causing him to grab your hips roughly. “Relax.” Then Aegon added another finger, then another, trying to match his girth to make sure you were prepared for him.

“Are you ready, pretty girl?”

“Please, Aegon.” You threw your head back against Aegon’s shoulder as he started to push in, the lube and the way he prepped you making it a not too terrible stretch. You could feel a stomach ache coming on, but gods, you didn’t want this to ever end. “Fuck…” You sobbed as he started to thrust into you gently, Aemond doing the same.

You never thought you’d pass out during sex, you couldn’t possibly believe it could feel that good. But these men proved you wrong, and you felt like you could collapse at any moment. You felt like a boneless fish, at the mercy of Aemond and Aegon, each thrusting with abandon, passing you back and forth like a game of tennis. All you could do was hang on for the ride and take it, moaning like a pornstar was all you had to put your energy in, not like you could help it.

Your third and most powerful orgasm came over you suddenly, wracking your body with chills and spasms, yelling so loud you were pretty sure you’d get noise complaints from your neighbors. But you couldn’t care less, with how amazing you felt, it was like an out of body experience. “Good fuckin’ girl, taking both our cocks so well.” Aegon moaned, kissing and biting your shoulder. “Fuck, gonna come again.”

“Me too.” Aemond moaned, “You want our cum deep inside both your holes, hm?”

“Yes, Aemond, yes! Come in me, please…” Both Aegon and Aemond let out deep groans, filling up both your holes with their cum, making you feel so full and complete. They both pulled out of you slowly, gently laying you down in between them on the bed. You shifted uncomfortably when you felt their cum leaking out of you, making a mess of your thighs and sheets. But it didn’t matter when they both cuddled up against you, making you feel so safe and secure.

“Are you okay, baby?” Aemond asked, caressing your cheek.

“More than okay.” You giggled, still breathless. You all were so sweaty, you’d all need a shower.

“That was amazing.” Aegon sighed, cuddling into your side like you were a teddy bear, his arm reaching over your waist while Aemond smoothed out your hair. “You were amazing.”

There was a beat where each of you just cuddled one another, steadying your breathing and taking in each other’s warmth. It was nice, almost as nice as the sex, but it didn’t stop you from thinking, “What happens now?” Your shy voice echoed in the now quiet room.

“Now?” Aegon mused. “Now, we do that again and again.”

Aemond rolled his eye at Aegon’s quip, continuing to smooth your hair down in a comforting manner. “Like we told you before, we both want you, and we’re both willing to share you. Like a polyamorous situation. We weren’t lying about how we feel about you, you know that.”

“If that’s alright with you, darling. We’d like to be your boyfriends, if you’ll have us. Our ancestor did the same thing…but the reverse…and with his sisters. So comparatively, this is normal.” Aegon chuckled.

Kissing both of their cheeks, you relaxed into their embrace. “Then yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend, both of yours.” You giggled when they both started kissing your cheeks, pawing at you like they wanted to go another round. “I can’t imagine the family gatherings won’t be awkward from now on.”

“They’ve always been awkward, love, that’s nothing to worry about.”

didn't mean for it to be this long oops🙈

[uzurakis]

hello!

Can we have JJK guys reaction to his friend/buddy being in love with his girlfriend? (can sukuna and other any other characters you like).

THEIR FRIEND ALSO . . . LIKES YOU?!

featuring: ryomen sukuna. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. fushiguro megumi.

n. hey sweetheart, i’m not used to writing sukuna, but i tried to write him as him as much as i can! i hope it suits him. thankies for the req x—x

GOJO SATORU. when gojo found out that his friend also liked you, his reaction was, unsurprisingly, far from what most people would expect. instead of anger or jealousy, he simply shrugged it off, his trademark smile playing on his lips.

“did you hear what i just said?” you asked, looking at him with wide eyes, he wasn’t fazed. “your friend likes me.”

gojo laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “oh, i heard you,” he replied, leaning back against the couch with an amused glint behind those glasses. “but why should i be worried? i know you’ll choose me at the end of the day.”

you blinked, taken aback by his confidence. “you’re not even a little bit concerned?”

“not at all,” gojo said, grinning. “i mean, can you blame them? you’re everything. but they don’t stand a chance against me, darling.”

“besides, it’s not like i don’t trust you. i know you love me.”

his words were playful, but because you know him well, he was serious. it was just the way he expressed it. “you’re right,” you admitted, tracing figures on his hands. “i do love you.”

“see? nothing to worry about. let him have their crush. it doesn’t change anything between us. if anything, it’s flattering. just proves i have excellent taste.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA. being in a relationship with sukuna meant navigating his unpredictable moods and overwhelming presence, but you had never seen him this angry before. the air seemed to crackle with his frustration as he paced back and forth, his eyes blazing with a fury that sent chills down your spine.

“babe,” you began, trying to calm him down. “what’s wrong?”

he stopped pacing and looked at you, his expression dark. “fucking jerk, it’s that so-called ‘friend’ of mine,” words spat out immediately. “i found out he likes you.”

your heart skipped a beat. you had noticed the way his friend had been acting lately, but you hadn’t thought much of it. now, seeing sukuna’s reaction, you realized just how serious this was.

“ryo,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “i chose you from the start, right?”

he growled, his hands clenching into fists. “i don’t care about that. he should have known better. he should have known that you’re mine.”

sukuna lined up his hand on your chin, causing your eyes to meet. “if he comes near you, he’ll face my wrath,” he whispered, his tone still laced with menace. “no one threatens what’s mine.”

“especially my woman.”

ITADORI YUUJI. you told him about his friend’s feelings while you both were sitting inside your cozy room. itadori’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he leaned back in his chair, processing the information.

“wow,” he said softly, scratching the back of his head, those pink locks becoming messier. “i didn’t see that coming.”

bitting your lower lip, you’re worried about how he might take the news. “you’re not mad, aren’t you?”

but your boyfriend shook his head, full of understanding. “no, i’m not mad, baby. feelings are complicated, y’know? it’s not like he can control how he feels.”

you sighed in relief, appreciating his maturity. “okay... i was just worried about how you’d react.”

“baby, i trust you, and i trust our relationship. besides, i’m kind of curious now. like, since when did he start liking you? how did i miss that?”

feeling the tension ease out of the situation, you chuckled at him. his obliviousness always gets in the way. “don’t know the exact moment, but i guess it’s been a while.”

“hmm,” the guy leaned forward, resting his chin on his free hand. “did he ever try to tell you or make a move?”

you shook your head. “no, i guess he didn’t. i think he knew about us and didn’t want to cause any trouble.” after your statement, a thoughtful expression was written on his face. “that must have been tough for him. i mean, having feelings for someone who’s already in a relationship.”

“it probably was,” you agreed. “but i’m glad you’re handling this so well.”

“hey, anyone would be lucky to have you. i just got there first.”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. he took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. after fushiguro found out that his friend liked you, it hit him harder than he wanted to admit. the knowledge gnawed at him, and although he tried to brush it off, doubts began to creep in, making him question his own worth and your relationship. “i found out that one of my friends likes you.”

“really? who?” you blinked in surprise, not expecting that. he named the friend, and you frowned, thinking back on any interactions you might have had. “i had no idea…”

fushiguro nodded, but his eyes avoiding yours. “i didn’t either. it just… fuck, it bothers me.”

“i guess it makes me question things. like, am i good enough for you? do you have feelings for him too? those sorta things..”

your hands immediately caressed his by instinct, seeing him like this made your heart ache. “baby, you’re enough for me. i don’t have any feelings for them. i’m with you until the end.”

the man looked down for a long while, his grip on your hand tightening. “but what if i’m not enough? what if there’s something lacking in our relationship that makes you look elsewhere?”

“there’s nothing lacking, megumi. i’m happy with you. and i love you just the way you are.” you shook your head, cupping his face with your free hand.

after that he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. “i don’t want to that jealous boyfriend but i can’t help it. the thought of losing you to someone else…”

“you’re not going to lose me,” you interrupted softly. “i’m here with you, and that’s not going to change. fushiguro then opened his eyes, searching for reassurance in yours, before closing them again. a little, relieved smile tugged on the edges of his lips. “i love you. i’m sorry for doubting us.”

@uzurakis

[hoe4hotchner]

First time | [A.H] - Kinktober 2024

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Virgin!fem!Reader

CW: 18+, MDNI, almost sickly sweet, piv, nerves, this is very vanilla smut, barely described in more than like 1-2 paragraphs, loads of kissing, they drink wine.

WC: 2.5k

Summary: It's your first time and you're nervous. Hotch wants it to be special and won't do anything you don't approve of.

A/N: I don't know if I'm satisfied with this... so do with that info if you want.

This is a prompt from the the Lazy Ghouls’ Kinktober prompt list.

The light from the setting sun filtered through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft glow around Hotch's apartment. The air was laced with something unspoken, something you weren't quite sure if you were ready for yet desperately yearned to do. Where every shadow whispered secrets of the atmosphere in the room. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you protected in your bubble.

You sat on the edge of his couch, fidgeting with the cuffs of your sleeves. You had sat here many times before, but none of them had made you feel as nervous as you were now. Your heart raced in a rhythm that matched the low, soothing jazz tunes playing softly in the background. You felt it in your veins as an anxious energy coursed through you, feeling both thrilling and overwhelming, clouding your senses in the best yet worst ways possible. Tonight was destined to be significant; it was the night you and Hotch would cross the fine line that you had danced around for a while now. Your first time.

Hotch stood in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine his broad shoulders relaxed compared to how tense they had been at work all day but his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he avoided spilling even a single drop. He was always in control, yet now he felt different — softened by the atmosphere. You snapped back to reality as you heard the soft clink of the glasses as he set them down on the table.

He turned and caught your gaze, the corner of his mouth curling into that reassuring smile you had come to cherish. “You okay?” he asked, his voice was low and comforting, instantly easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

You nodded, though it felt like a lie. “Just a bit… nervous,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth was that this moment, while exciting, made your stomach twist and turn. You were worried. What if you didn't meet his expectations? What if you wouldn't be enough?

Hotch stepped closer, his presence felt grounding. He took a seat beside you, his knee brushing against yours, creating a warmth that spread through your body. “Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “There’s no pressure, okay? We can take things as slow as you need. We can also just stay here. We don't have to do anything if you don't feel ready.”

His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you found comfort in the way he looked at you — his eyes were warm, filled with understanding, but you couldn't look past the hint of desire. It was clear he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, though he would never rush you, he was not like other men you had dated. That was the beauty of Aaron Hotchner; he made you feel safe even when you weren't even sure of your own feelings.

“What if I mess it up?” you confessed, your gaze dropping to your hands. “What if I don’t know what to do?”

Hotch’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a firm but gentle grip. “You won’t mess anything up,” he assured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “This is about us — about exploring together. Just be yourself, okay?” He smiled softly at you, his eyes searching yours for a sign, a sign of whether you were truly ready or not.

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you, soothing the jitters swirling within. With him, you felt like you could be vulnerable, shedding the layers of doubt and fear that had accumulated over the years. He was patient and kind, the kind of man who would never judge you for your inexperience.

As the music shifted to a more delicate melody, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and it filled the space with a comforting heat. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, it was a reminder that you were in this together.

“Whatever happens tonight,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “I’m here.”

You took a deep breath, letting your uncertainty seep out of your body. In this moment, surrounded by the familiar scent of him and the promise of what was to come, you felt ready. Ready to explore and embrace the intimacy that had been building between you.

With a newfound sense of confidence, you lifted your head and met his gaze, feeling the flutter in your chest settle. “I’m ready,” you whispered, a smile breaking through your nerves.

Hotch’s eyes sparkled with pride, and he leaned in closer, the air felt thick with anticipation. You were alone in your own little universe, ready to take that leap into the unknown together.

The bedroom door closed softly behind you, the sound almost echoing in the stillness of the apartment. The soft light from the bedside lamps cast gentle shadows on the walls, creating a warm glow that felt inviting. You stood near the foot of the bed, your heart racing a bit as you acclimated to your surroundings. You had been in his bedroom before, but that was not the reason behind your racing heart, the circumstances were.

Hotch, always the steady presence, moved with a calm confidence that eased some of your lingering nerves. He took a moment to survey the room, making sure that everything was perfect — it had to feel just right. He then turned his gaze back to you, his eyes filled with an understanding that made your heart flutter. It was in that look — the depth of his care, the unspoken promise of patience — that you found reassurance in what you were about to do.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper, breaking the silence that hung between you. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of hesitation. “We can stop at any time, or change directions if you want.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his concern. “I know. I’m okay,” you replied, your voice steadier than you expected. “I just… I really want this. I want to give it to you.”

The air shifted, charged with anticipation. Hotch’s lips curved into a small, encouraging smile. “Good,” he said, his tone deepening. “Just remember, we’re in this together. If at any point you feel uncertain, if you want to stop, just say the word.”

You knew you were safe with him, that he would never push you beyond your limits. It was one of the many reasons why you admired him; he understood the importance of both desire and comfort, intertwining them in a way that felt natural and just right.

He stepped even closer, closing the distance between you until his presence enveloped you. “Why don’t we take it slow?” he suggested his voice a soft rumble in his chest that sent shivers down your spine. “Let’s focus on what feels good.”

You could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of the wine lingering between you. It was intoxicating. He reached out, gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hand, your breathing hitched catching in your throat.

Hotch studied your expression carefully, his thumb brushing against your lip in a tender gesture. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

The air in the room thickened, and you felt the weight of the moment settle around you. Your heart raced as you considered his question, the possibilities stretching out before you like an open road. His genuine desire to ensure your comfort made you feel cherished and ready to explore with him.

“I want to kiss you,” you breathed, your heart fluttering at the admission. It felt like a small step, but in the grand scheme of the evening, it was monumental and a step in the right direction.

Hotch’s lips curved into a warm smile, leaning in closer, closing the distance between you. “Then let’s start there,” he said softly, his breath brushing against your lips.

With that, he captured your lips with his, the kiss was soft and tentative at first, you were both savoring the moment, knowing that the feelings you felt now never could be repeated. There was a sweetness to it, a promise that he would take care of you. He pulled you closer, his hands resting on your waist. You melted into him, the warmth of his body igniting something within you.

As you pulled away slightly, breathless, Hotch rested his forehead against yours, his dark eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you whispered. “Really good.”

“Good,” he echoed, the tension in the air shifting from nerves to excitement. “Then let’s keep going. Just remember what I said.” He placed his lips back on yours.

Hotch's hands moved to the hem of your shirt, waiting for your approval before gently lifting it over your head, only breaking the kiss for a split second.

The kiss deepened, and time seemed to lose its meaning as you melted into each other. Your fingers moved to the buckle of his belt, carefully opening it, not sure if you were moving too fast or not.

Hotch pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours, a silent question hanging between you. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “I want this,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. The sincerity in your tone matched the pounding of your heart, and with that admission, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you.

Hotch’s expression softened, and a small, proud smile graced his lips. “Okay,” he replied. He leaned back in to kiss you, deepening the connection between you. The kiss felt electric, filled with unspoken promises and a hunger that ignited every nerve ending in your body.

You sank onto the bed, and he followed, hovering over you. The way he looked at you made your heart swell — his eyes darkened with desire, yet they remained soft, filled with love and adoration for you. It was a potent combination that only heightened the electricity in the air between you.

Hotch leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “If at any point you want to stop, just say the word. I promise we can take as much time as you need.” His voice was a deep murmur.

“Okay,” you breathed, your pulse racing. You felt a thrill at the thought of surrendering to this moment, to him.

As he kissed down your neck, the warmth of his lips igniting your skin with every kiss, you let out a soft sigh, arching your back into his touch. Hotch’s hands explored your sides, trailing along your curves, sparks of pleasure shooting through you with every gentle caress. He paused for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours, seeking permission to ignite the next step.

“Please,” you whined, the word escaping your lips almost breathlessly, an invitation laced with longing.

With that, he pressed his body closer, carefully sliding into you. You furrowed your brows at the foreign feeling. Hotch stilled as he was halfway in, waiting for you to adjust to him. He rested his forehead against yours, slowly pushing the rest of his cock inside. You watched the veins in his arms flex with every movement.

“Just breathe,” he murmured, his breath felt hot against your skin. He was attuned to your every reaction, a gentle guide navigating this uncharted territory with you. You felt as if you were floating, swept up in the tides of your emotions, every heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Hotch’s movements were measured, each one deliberate and filled with intent. The way he studied your expressions, responding to your every sigh and shift, made you feel seen in a way that you had never felt before. He was a master of the delicate dance you were dancing, guiding you through the peaks and valleys of pleasure with a sensitivity that left you breathless.

As the warmth of the moment began to settle around you, you lay wrapped in Hotch’s arms, the soft glow of the bedside lamps illuminating the room.

You could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head, a steady and calming presence that made you feel safe. Hotch shifted slightly, pulling you closer as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice was laced with genuine concern as he tilted your chin to meet his gaze.

You nodded, a small smile breaking across your lips. “I’m more than okay,” you replied, your voice was barely a whisper, yet it was filled with genuine sincerity. “That was… incredible.” You closed your eyes, exhaling as you relaxed into his arms.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your forehead. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. “I wanted it to be special for you.”

As you nestled deeper into his embrace, you couldn’t help but reflect on the journey that had brought you to this moment. The playful banter, the stolen glances, the kisses in the copy room, everything that had led to this exact moment with the man you loved.

“I was nervous,” you admitted. The admission felt both freeing and slightly vulnerable, but you knew that honesty had and would always be essential between you. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

Hotch nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I was too. It’s a big step to take.” His voice was filled with reassurance. “I hope you know that you can always talk to me about how you’re feeling.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “I do know that,” you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. “And I really appreciate it.” You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, wishing you could stay like this forever.

He smiled back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As the minutes turned into an hour, you both remained entwined, sharing quiet stories and laughter, your hearts beating in tune with each other.

Eventually, as the night deepened and the stars twinkled outside the window, you felt a sense of peace settle over you.

With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes as you nestled closer, feeling his arm tighten around your frame. “I’m really glad we did this,” you murmured your voice was thick with sleepiness.

“Me too,” he replied as your breathing evened out. Hotch pressed another kiss to the top of your head.

He smiled at your sleeping form, knowing that he wanted to stay like this forever. To stay with you forever.

[bbydoll18xx]

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 4)

Paige makes you feel so good.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Themes: hella smut this is actual filth, little bit of cuteness if you squint

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A/N: hiii sorry this took so long lol I've gotta stop writing multipart fics because i procrastinate too much but i turned down a date so i could write this so I'll be sad if this flops PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP I'M BEGGING

~

The tension was palpable, as you sat next to Paige on her couch. Her eye contact was enough to make you want to shrink away, but you held firm, straightening your spine with a determined force. The smirk on her face sent a shudder through your entire body, and the anticipation of Paige’s hands on you made you wet instantaneously. 

She reaches out to touch you, her fingertips ghosting across the exposed skin of your upper thigh where your shorts had ridden up. The sensitive skin blooms with goosebumps as she does so, and your head spins at the contact. You were getting drunk on it, and the real deal was yet to actually begin.

Paige chuckles as you let out a puff of air, overwhelmed from how her touch affected you, and you blush.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Know you’re probably used to girls who know what they’re doing.” Your insecurities were coming to a head once more, the reality setting in that books could only prepare you for so much. And as you sat before someone as enigmatic and beguiling as Paige, it was the tiniest bit overwhelming.

Only a tiny bit, of course.

Paige shrugs, her eyes bright with excitement. “Don't be sorry, baby. That's why I’m gonna teach you,” she adds with a wink and a huge grin, and the rolling in your stomach subsides. 

Her nonchalance soothes you. She wasn't someone you could hide yourself around, as she beckoned towards your most inner self, pulling it out and appreciating it regardless of anything or anyone. 

You nod, eyes still trained downwards at your hands where you were meticulously playing with them, rubbing them in a way that is not unlike Paige’s infamous “rizz hands.” She tuts at this, taking your hands in hers and then using the other to gently lift your chin to meet her eyes.

“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta use your words,” she says, words husky and dripping with a soft dominance that had your insides purring. 

“Okay,” you whisper, fighting the urge to look away from the heat of her gaze. The blueness of her eyes was hypnotic, and it was easy to get lost in them. 

“That’s my good girl,” she praises, moving her hand from your chin to the side of your neck, holding it in a way that had you holding in a moan, as she stroked the delicate skin with her thumb.

Your heart rate jumps, and Paige can tell, the thumping evident under her thumb, and the pink in your face promptly returns.

“Sounds like someone’s got a praise kink,” she laughs, and you don't bother to even attempt to disagree. Your good girl disposition had stretched beyond just getting good grades and being innocent, and despite your lack of experience, you knew you liked being praised in that way. You preened under any kind of approval; it's just how you were wired.

Paige pulls you into a kiss, and you welcome the distraction. Her lips move against yours, and she sets the perfect tempo. Time slows as your tongues meld together, moans falling from both of your mouths at the sensation. Paige pulls away with one final kiss, lightly biting your swollen bottom lip with finality and dominance that had you swooning.

“Alright,” she begins, still stroking the flesh of your inner thigh. You had moved into her lap during your impromptu makeout session, and she had not protested in the slightest. “Tell me what you wanna try with me.”

You blush again. Having to verbalize to the gorgeous blonde that you did in fact want her to fuck you until you were a withering, moaning mess underneath her was mortifying. Your gaze drops back to your lap before flickering back to Paige’s before she could lightly chastise you. 

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words. “I don't know,” you mumble. “Everything?”

Her eyebrows jump in surprise at your boldness. 

“Everything, huh?” She teases, her fingers dancing closer and closer to your clothed heat. 

“Everything,” you breathe, affirming your statement, trying to avoid squirming in Paige’s lap. The size difference was adding to your arousal, and you feel the wet spot in your undies growing to an embarrassing size. 

“How about we go to my bedroom?” Paige asks, and you immediately agree, wanting to somehow get even closer to the blonde. You go to stand up, but before you can do so, she pulls you in, picking you up and carrying you and dumping you on the plush, purple comforter that was thrown on her bed. 

You scoot back so you're leaning against the pillows, and your legs are slightly spread. Paige stands at the foot of the bed, admiring you with an intense stare that had you squirming deliciously. 

She takes off her shirt and shorts, leaving her in a black sports bra and matching boxers. Her skin was tanned from the summer, and her long, blonde hair was up in a bun. Her abs flashed as she moved towards you, getting on the bed and sitting next to where you were laying. 

Your eyes rake over her figure, subconsciously licking your lips as you take her in. She was so gorgeous, and in this moment, she was all yours. 

“Have you touched yourself before?” She asks, voice husky with want.

Fuck, this was getting real.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Her next two words have you reeling with arousal and the tiniest bit of anxiety. 

“Show me.” 

You slowly shed your clothes until you were laid out bare in front of Paige, and she looks you up and down with a fervent stare. Any thoughts of feeling insecure about your body vanish as you meet her gaze, the adoration radiating off of her. 

Your hands start at your tits, fingers circling both nipples simultaneously. A slight pinch pulls a low whine from your lips, and you drag a hand down your stomach towards the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Your touch was gentle, but an annoying voice in your head mocked that it was not comparable to Paige’s. 

She had ruined everyone else for you, including yourself, and that was even before you were able to experience anyone else. You just knew. 

You part your legs, gasping as the cool air hits your drenched pussy, and Paige lets out a similar noise as she sees how wet you are. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby. Keep going,” she urges, and her praise fuels you.

You dip two fingers into your sopping pussy, swirling the arousal around your clit, eliciting another groan at the large swell of pleasure. The build up of everything makes the process quicker than when you were alone, and Paige’s watchful eye adds to the sheer naughtiness. Your pants are coming out now in staccato breaths, pleasure building in the pit of your belly, and your eyes flutter close. 

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, baby,” Paige insists, and before you can even think otherwise, you open them once more, looking straight at her. Her dominance is soft, and your desire to gratify her takes over any sense of rational thinking. 

Your hips stutter as the orgasm nears closer, but before you could bathe in the glorious pleasure of your orgasm washing over you, Paige pulls your hand away, and you pout in indignation as the tingling fades.

“You really didn't think you were going to make yourself cum tonight, did you?” She questions, cocking her head to the side with a smirk. “Let me make you feel good now, baby.”

You nod, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, trying to keep your eyes on Paige’s, but the intimacy of the situation makes you want to close them. You scoot back again, laying down further against the pillows. 

Paige takes another moment to look at you, spread out perfectly and innocently before her. You look up at her with doe eyes, and the idea of you being all hers to do whatever she wanted to was nearly intoxicating. 

She places a hand on your inner thigh, and goosebumps erupt at her gentle touch. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for everything you had been fantasizing about since you first laid eyes on UConn’s star basketball player. 

Her hand trails down to your knee, where she then opens your legs, giving her the perfect view of you laid out open just for her. 

It was always going to be just for her.

She leans down and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, nose nearly grazing your sopping pussy, and your stomach lurches dangerously. 

Your breath quickens again. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” she murmurs, as she travels up to your heaving chest, attaching that sinful mouth to a peaked and very sensitive nipple. 

A small moan falls from your lips as you adjust to the new sensation. Pinching your own nipples felt nice, sure, but this was a whole new ballgame. You weren’t sure if this was something you could ever go without again. 

Paige continues worshiping you, alternating between soft kisses, tantalizing licks, and sharp bites until you are a squirming mess underneath her. 

“You like that?” She asks, and you moan incoherently, unable to verbalize just how much you did in fact like it. 

Her kisses travel down your stomach until she has a direct view of your pussy. 

“Been waiting to taste you for so long,” she murmurs, and if it weren’t for the sheer anticipation of her eating you out, you think you would have combusted right there on the spot. 

Her breath fans against you, feeling warm against the slick that had accumulated. One hand strokes your thigh, while the other anchors your other leg, keeping you from closing them together. 

Leaning down, she licks a long line from your weeping hole to your swollen clit, and the line of expletives and moans that follow are like music to Paige’s ears. 

You are so vocal, and that turns her on in a way that should be almost concerning to her. 

Her tongue swirls around your clit over and over again, and the orgasm that she had denied you was quickly building once more. 

And just when you think it could not possibly get any better, Paige utters, “Gonna finger you, too, okay, baby?”

“Fuck, yes please, Paige. Need you,” you whine, eyes nearly shutting at the pleasure. 

“So polite,” she chuckles, and she promptly slides a finger into your tight pussy. 

The feeling was foreign to you, but you welcomed it, bucking against her hand wantonly. 

“Such a good girl,” she praises. “Taking me so well.” 

You moan at her words, the combination of the praise and the pleasure was making your head feel fuzzy, and you were simply relishing in it. You could not believe you had waited so long to allow yourself to feel so damn good. 

Paige adds a second finger, stretching you out with a scissoring motion, before she curls her fingers, causing even more pleasure to shoot through your belly and float all throughout your body. Your g-spot was something you usually avoided during your impromptu masturbation sessions, and the sensations were otherworldly.

Another long whine leaves your lips, and you squirm. “More, Paige, please, need more,” you pant.

She obliges, adding a third finger. She fucks you while continuing her brutal assault on your throbbing clit, and you feel yourself begin to fall over the edge.

“Gonna cum,” you moan, Paige’s name falling from your lips like a prayer, the words and moans mixing together incomprehensibly. 

“Cum for me,” Paige whispers huskily against your pussy, and with a loud string of moans, you fall apart. 

Time nearly stops, and you are washed in pleasure. Paige helps ride you through the orgasm, slowing down once your breathing begins to even out. She pulls her fingers out of you, making a show of licking them while keeping intense eye contact with you.

You shudder, pulling her into a kiss, tasting yourself on her lips, and the horniness comes back instantaneously.

“That was incredible,” you whisper shyly, a soft smile on your face. 

“Told you,” Paige winks, and you laugh, gently swatting at her. 

“So cocky,” you tease. “When’s it my turn?”

She shakes her head. “Dont worry about it. This is about you.”

You pout, bottom lip jutting out. “But I want to learn. And I’ve been dying to taste you, too.”

A faint blush covers her features, and she wags her eyebrows at you. “Been thinkin’ about me, huh?” 

“Shut up, Bueckers,” you whine, rolling her eyes. She was so goddamn cocky. And if she was literally anyone else, you would’ve gotten the ick. But she was Paige, and you could not help but be completely enthralled by her.

She quickly gives into you, and you help her take off the remainder of her clothes. It was your turn to gaze upon her, admiring her long, muscular limbs in all their glory.

Leaning down, you capture her lips in another searing kiss before trailing them down her neck and across her breasts. You could feel her heart racing under the tanned skin, and your ego soars. You were the one having this effect on Paige. No one else. 

“Tell me if you want me to try something else,” you say, before promptly diving into her soaked pussy. Using what she had done to you as a guide, you begin swirling your tongue against her clit in tight circles. You groan against her, the taste and the downright idea of what you were doing sends jolts back down to your own sex. Similarly, Paige was a moaning mess underneath you.

“Doin’ so good, baby. Just like that,” she pants out, writhing on the bed and trying desperately to not trap your head between her strong thighs.

‘Wouldn't be the worst way to go, though,’ you think earnestly. 

Her moans echo through her bedroom, ricocheting off the walls in undeniable proof that you were the one making her feel so good. Wanting to prove yourself even more, you slide two fingers in, curling them up to her g-spot, causing Paige to groan lowly. 

The combination of the finger-fucking and the circling of her clit with your hot, wet tongue was efficacious, and soon she’s cumming with a long string of moans and your name on your lips. For a second, you worry that your roommates across the hall would be able to hear it, but you quickly determine that you really don’t give a fuck. Because you were the one making Paige feel like this, and you were pretty damn proud of it. 

Letting her catch her breath, you pull out of her, sucking your fingers just as she had done, and sit back next to her against the pillows. 

She looks over to you, and with her flushed cheeks and messy hair, you realize how incredibly fucked you are. There was no way you’d be able to go without this, without her, ever again. 

“You get an A+ from me,” she deadpans, and you giggle, hiding your face in her neck.

“When’s the next lesson?” You ask, all sense of shyness wiped from your being. 

“How about tomorrow? I could show you my strap,” she adds casually. 

Your heart jumps. “Fuck yes,” you breathe, already getting excited at the thought. 

“It’s a date,” she winks, pulling you in for another kiss. It was going to be a long night.

And you were okay with that.

~

wellll what do we think??? If you guys want i could do a part 5 but idk i really want to write some strap action lemme know!!

xoxo katy

Part 5

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part one

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is devastated when Mattheo gets a girlfriend and asks Theo to help her get over him.

Word Count: 5030

Warnings: Unrequited love & reader crying. Let me know if there's more; I probably forgot something.

A/N 💌 I am so excited about the first part of this series—it's been in my head for weeks! Big thank you to @moonpascal for reading and editing! I'm so excited to hear your thoughts!

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

Against your better judgment, you’d fallen hard for Mattheo Riddle. And yet, you were fully aware that nothing would ever come of it. 

You’d grown up in the same circles, your families often crossing paths at dinners and parties, but you were never particularly close—barely acknowledging each other in those polished, formal settings. It wasn’t until you both started at Hogwarts that any real connection formed. Being eleven and navigating the overwhelming experience of a new school was daunting for anyone. When you both were sorted into Slytherin, the shared familiarity in an unfamiliar place naturally drew you together.

Over time, you’d been there for him more times than you could count. You were the one cleaning his cuts after a fight, always telling him it was the last time because you couldn’t bear to see him get hurt. Yet, each time he showed up, you let him in with an exasperated huff, carefully tending to his wounds. When he’d appear at your door late at night, eyes dark with whatever was haunting him, you’d silently walk with him, sitting together in the quiet of the common room until the tension in his shoulders finally eased. You’d pretend to be annoyed when he asked to copy your coursework, but in truth, you savored every moment he sat close to you—the way his arm would brush against yours as he scribbled down your notes, the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air—leaving you longing for him to stay close just a little longer, even though you knew he never would.

He moved from one fling to the next, a string of one-night stands that never seemed to reach his heart. While you’d never been one of them, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were. A stubborn, hopeless part of you clung to the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, he’d one day let you be the one he trusted with more than just a night tangled in the sheets.

Your friends always joked that if Mattheo ever got serious about a girl, it would be you—but you knew the chances of that were painfully slim.

So you were caught off guard when you walked into the common room and saw a girl you barely recognized sitting with your friends. Cozied up in the same armchair as Mattheo. Your steps faltered as you approached, trying to piece together who she was and why she was sitting with your friends. It wasn’t that you were opposed to meeting new people, but your group had never once welcomed anyone new.

“Hey, love.” Enzo murmured, patting the cushion beside him on the couch. He’s the only one who’s noticed you so far; the rest are absorbed in their heated discussion about the latest Quidditch match. You slide onto the couch next to him, your gaze briefly flicking to the girl sitting directly across from you, trying to place her.

“Hey, Enz.” You say with a soft smile, setting your bag down as you settle onto the couch.

“What’s going on?” You tilt your head toward the girl, and Enzo glances in her direction. She’s not paying attention, her gaze fixed on Mattheo with a lovesick expression.

“I’m not sure,” Enzo replies quietly, ensuring his voice doesn’t carry. “Mattheo just introduced us, and we’re all a bit confused about it too I think.”

“Oh.” You murmur and Enzo watches you carefully. He knows about your feelings for Mattheo; he’d have to be blind not to notice.

Enzo leans in closer, and you shift your gaze to him. “Listen, love—”

Enzo doesn’t get to finish before a soft gasp of your name catches your attention. You look over, surprised to see the girl leaning forward with her hand extended. You notice that her other hand still has a grip on Mattheo.

“I’m Veronica,” she says warmly, her smile never wavering. “Mattheo’s girlfriend.”

The word hits you like a punch to the gut. You’re at a loss for words, unsure if you can even find any.

Girlfriend. Since when does Mattheo Riddle have a girlfriend? And why wasn’t he introducing her himself?

You want to question her about it, to find out when this happened and how she managed to get past his walls. Because you had been trying for years. Instead, you sit there in stunned silence, your eyes darting between her hand and her face. Your mind is racing, trying to process the truth you’ve been blindsided by. You’d known he’d never be yours, not in the way you wanted, but hearing it, seeing it so plainly in front of you, feels like a cruel twist of fate.

Forcing a smile, you finally take her hand, the gesture automatic and devoid of real warmth. “Nice to meet you.” You manage to say, though the words feel foreign on your tongue.

Her smile widens, and she shifts closer to Mattheo as if silently asserting her place by his side. Your eyes flicker to Mattheo, whose attention is pulled to Veronica as she presses closer into him. You study his face intently, searching for any hint of his feelings toward her, hoping to find anything that might betray his feelings.

But when you see the way he looks at her—eyes soft, filled with a tenderness you’ve never seen from him before—your stomach churns with a sickening mix of jealousy and heartache. 

His eyes meet yours, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Can’t wait for my two favorite girls to get to know each other better,” he says, the warmth in his voice making your chest tighten.

You glance at Veronica as she nods enthusiastically. “Me too, Matty,” she says, her voice dripping with sweetness. “I’m already so excited for the girls’ nights we’re going to have.”

You can’t tell if she’s genuinely that nice or just putting on a show for Mattheo. “Oh yeah. Can’t wait,” you say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. Neither of them notices the unease behind it—they’re too wrapped up in each other, their attention locked in a gaze that makes you feel invisible.

You tear your gaze away, the sight of them together too painful to endure, and instead turn to Enzo. “What the hell?” you mutter, barely managing to keep your voice steady.

“I’m sorry, love, I wanted to tell you before they did,” Enzo whispers, wincing as he gives your hand a quick squeeze. You murmur a soft “It’s okay,” but inside, you’re far from feeling that way.

Desperately, you try to compose yourself, but the effort feels pointless. As your eyes wander, they lock with Theo's. He’s watching you, his expression unreadable. You muster a soft smile, hoping to mask the heartbreak inside, but he doesn’t return it; he just keeps watching, his gaze heavy with something you can't quite place.

You manage to stay for half an hour, offering the occasional nod and murmured agreement to feign interest in the conversation. But your mind is elsewhere, detached from the words being exchanged. No one seems to notice your distraction; they’re all too absorbed in their own banter to catch the distant look in your eyes.

Without realizing it, your gaze keeps drifting back to the couple. Veronica rests her head on Mattheo’s shoulder, and his hand is gently resting on her knee, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. You can’t help but notice how at ease he seems with this physical intimacy—something you’re surprised he’d be so comfortable with.

When Pansy casually asked how Mattheo and Veronica had met, you felt a surge of restless energy. Without thinking, you abruptly stood up, the couch creaking loudly at the force. The sudden noise drew the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes shifted to you, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity as they awaited your next move.

“Um,” you winced as the room's gaze fixed on you, feeling the heat of their attention. “I’m afraid I'm coming down with a migraine. I’m going to bed early tonight.”

Your friends’ voices fade into the background as they shout their goodnights, the words scarcely reaching your ears. You speed through the common room and down the cold, empty hallway, desperate for the seclusion of your dorm. Just as you’ve made it halfway to your room, a firm grip catches your hand. Startled, you spin around to find Theo standing there, his eyes searching yours with a mix of concern and hesitation.

“Dolcezza,” he says softly, his voice a gentle caress in the quiet hallway. His eyes follow the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you watch through blurry vision as he takes a tentative step closer. “What’s going on?”

You open your mouth to respond but find yourself unable to form the words. The lump in your throat feels insurmountable. Instead, you just shake your head slightly, your tears continuing to fall unchecked.

He releases a quiet sigh and says, “Come here.” Without a second thought, you step closer, encircling his waist with your arms while resting your head against his chest. His arms come up to settle around your shoulders, and he gently rests his head against yours. As you press your face into his chest, sniffling softly, he whispers soothing words in Italian, his voice a comforting murmur. 

You must have been standing in the cold corridor for fifteen minutes before the distant murmur of approaching students prompts Theo to gently pull himself from you. He takes your hand, his touch warm against the chill, guiding you away from the freezing corridor.

“It’s just you and Pansy, right?” He asks, using his hand to guide you in front of him to let you go ahead and enter your room first.

“Yeah, but she’ll probably stay with Blaise.” You say softly, the strain in your voice revealing that you’ve been crying. ​​Theo doesn’t say anything; he’s long since lost count of the times he’s told them off for leaving the curtains open or forgetting to cast a silencing spell. Instead, he follows you into your dorm, the door clicking softly behind him.

The walls are lined with polaroids of the group, and Theo’s gaze lingers on the numerous pictures of you and Mattheo. Your dark wood desk is topped with a silver lamp and a few textbooks, its surface cluttered with quills and scattered notes. Mattheo’s jersey is draped over the back of your chair, and Theo recalls all the times seeing you wear it at each game. Your teddy, a well-worn bear that Theo recognizes as the same one you bring every year, sits at the top of your desk. 

The room feels markedly warmer than the corridor outside, though it might just be because it’s your room.

“You can sit.” You offer. Theo’s eyes move to where you’re perched on the edge of your bed watching him.

You’ve kicked off your shoes and tossed your robes over your trunk. He swallows, his gaze lingering on you. Despite the tear stains on your cheeks, he finds it hard to look away, thinking how pretty you look.

It’s rare for him to spend time with you alone. Usually, when you’re together, it’s with the rest of your friends. Over the years, you’ve been paired up in classes a few times, but neither of you has ever gone out of your way to be alone together.

He sits down next to you on the bed, deliberately leaving some space between you. For a while, neither of you speaks. When Theo finally glances at you out of the corner of his eye, he notices you staring at a polaroid of you and Mattheo. It was taken at a party celebrating Slytherin’s win. In the photo, you’re perched on his lap, one arm casually draped around his shoulder, the other holding up a cup of whatever you were drinking. Your smile is bright, full of life, while Mattheo’s is more subdued, but there’s no mistaking the way he’s looking at you—content, almost in awe, as you laugh above him.

He was sure you two were going to get together that night.

“Dolcezza,” He murmurs. You hum to show you’re listening, but don’t look away from the picture. “You know I’m here for you. In any way you need me.”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the picture at first, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you stare at it. Finally, you let out a sigh and turn to him, “I appreciate that. But how fair would it be for me to vent about your best friend to you?”

It’s the first time he’s ever heard you say anything that hints at your feelings for Mattheo.

“I don’t care about him right now. I care about you.” He says, and you look a tad surprised at his words.

There’s a moment of quiet as you process Theo’s words. He’s always been Mattheo’s best friend, so hearing him dismiss Mattheo like that catches you off guard. You hesitate, not wanting to unload all your feelings onto him, especially since the mere thought of talking about Mattheo and Veronica makes your stomach turn.

“Theo,” you sigh, your voice tinged with vulnerability, on the verge of breaking. He can hear how close you are to tears. “Will you lie with me? If that’s weird, I understand—”

But before you can finish, Theo gently takes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring, leaving no room for doubt. He gives a small nod, silently gesturing for you to lie down, and you follow his lead. 

“Where do you want me, dolcezza?” he asks, his voice soft. You feel a momentary hesitation, your heart stuttering at the tenderness in his tone.

“Um,” you murmur, turning onto your side, feeling the vulnerability settling in your stomach. “Will you face me?”

Theo doesn’t hesitate. He moves effortlessly, sliding into place beside you. You watch as he slips off his shoes and sets them aside, then settles himself on the bed, positioning his body so he’s facing you. You find yourself holding your breath, acutely aware of how close he is—how you’re sharing the same pillow and could study every detail of his face if you wanted to.

“Thank you.” You say, and you cringe inwardly at the way your voice wavers. It’s as if your sadness is laid bare, impossible to mask.

His eyes gently trace your features, a soft concern evident in his expression as he takes in the sight of you, “For?”

“Laying with me. Coming to check on me,” Your voice drops to a whisper and your eyes well up in tears when you think about why you were upset in the first place. “It means a lot.”

Theo lets out a soft hum, his gaze tender as he lifts his hand to gently brush away a tear that slips from your eye. His touch lingers, the pad of his thumb making slow, deliberate strokes against your skin, as if taking his time. His eyes meet yours, and you watch him with your lips slightly parted, overwhelmed by the unexpected tenderness of his touch. The softness of his fingers against your face feels soothing; you’ve never had anyone touch you like this before.

You shift closer to Theo, and for a moment, he tenses, as if unsure of your proximity. The hesitation makes you wonder if this closeness is too much, but then he wraps his arm around you and draws you in, holding you firmly against him. You let your eyes flutter shut, inhaling his cologne—surprisingly more comforting to you than Mattheo’s—and feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt.

As his fingers move gently over your hair, a calming touch, you rest your head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat becomes a soothing reminder that you aren’t alone, and soon you find yourself drifting off, wrapped in his quiet of your dorm.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

When you wake up, Theo is gone, and you’re not sure if you’re more disappointed or relieved. Given how you feel, you’re leaning toward the latter. Your head throbs with a sharp, relentless ache, and your puffy eyes serve as a reminder of the tears you shed last night.

You’re nearly done getting ready when Pansy slips into the dorm, her brows knitting in surprise as she takes in the sight of you. 

Her gaze lingers on the dark circles under your eyes and the slight tremor in your hands as you fix your tie, “I didn’t think you’d be leaving the dorm today.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You snap and Pansy raises an amused brow at the agitation in your voice.

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood to see them.” She heads to her trunk, her current clothes rumpled and clearly in need of a fresh uniform. You don’t need her to spell it out—you know exactly who she’s talking about.

“I left because I had a migraine.” You grit out and she glances over her shoulder, obviously amused and doubtful at your answer.

“Really? A migraine after seeing those two?” Pansy hums, rummaging through her trunk with deliberate slowness, her eyes flicking to you as if gauging your reaction. “They were all over each other last night. Who’s to say they won’t be again today?”

You stiffen at the mention of Mattheo and his girlfriend, your fingers pausing on your tie. The events of last night rush back—Veronica’s hand on Mattheo, the way he looked at her. You feel a fresh wave of nausea but push it down, not wanting to give Pansy the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

“It doesn’t bother me.” You mutter, trying to sound indifferent, though your voice wavers slightly. You force your hands to finish with your tie, pulling it tighter than necessary.

Pansy glances over at you, a flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes, as she drops the amused smirk, “You know you can tell me, right? About how you feel about him.”

You study Pansy, debating whether to finally say what you’ve kept to yourself for so long. It’s only been hours since you basically admitted it to Theo, and now telling Pansy feels like too much—though you’re sure they’d suspected for a while. But voicing it out loud feels like stepping into territory you’re not ready to face.

“What difference does it make, Pans? He’s got a girlfriend now.” You sigh, the sadness from last night seeping into your words. She abandons her trunk, standing up to fully face you, her expression unreadable.

“If it helps, we were all surprised.” She says, her voice unexpectedly gentle. “None of us had a clue he was sleeping with anyone more than once.”

Your stomach churns further, “I don’t think that really helps, Pans.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of comfort. “I could make her life a nightmare if you want. Perhaps then she’d decide it’s not worth it.”

“No,” you say, wincing as you stare at the wall, feeling the heaviness of the room. “I want him to be happy, and if she makes him happy, then I need to accept it. Even if it hurts.”

Pansy narrows her eyes, disbelief crossing her face. “Are you joking? You’d make him happy—”

“Pansy,” you cut her off, frustration making your voice sharper. “I don’t need you to fix this. I just need to figure out how to deal with it myself.”

Pansy falls silent, her gaze shifting as she takes in the raw pain on your face, a flicker of guilt passing over her expression. She heads off to change, leaving you on your bed, the weight of her offer hanging in the air. You sit there, lost in thought, waiting for her to finish getting ready. Despite her nights spent with Blaise, you both always made a point to walk to breakfast together.

When Pansy finally emerges, you both make your way to the Great Hall in quiet unison. The hum of conversation and the steady flow of students around you create a backdrop of normalcy.

“What did you do after you left last night?” Pansy asks, her gaze shifting from the bustling corridor to you.

“Had a good cry.” You reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the heaviness you feel.

Pansy’s brow furrows. “Darling, you shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I wasn’t.” You say, almost reluctantly.

“What do you mean?”

“Theo came back to the dorm with me,” you explain, your voice softer now. “He stayed with me, just… holding me, until I fell asleep.”

Pansy’s eyes widen slightly, and she falls quiet for a moment, “He did?”

You let out a soft hum, and Pansy grips at your hand, her touch both firm and reassuring. Her eyes reflect a mix of concern and guilt as she looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice softening with sincerity. “I should’ve come to check on you instead of leaving it to Theo. I didn’t realize your feelings for Mattheo were this strong.”

You shake your head slightly, your gaze dropping to where her fingers clasp yours. “It’s okay,” you murmur, trying to steady your voice. “Theo being there helped more than I thought it would. I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”

Pansy nods, her expression softening. “I wish I’d known,” she says quietly. “I would’ve gone with you immediately. I just thought you needed some space.”

You offer a small, appreciative smile, grateful for her concern. “Thanks, Pansy. It means a lot.”

Pansy pulls you into a warm hug, and despite the heaviness in your chest, you can’t help but chuckle at the unexpected show of affection. When she finally lets go, she takes your hand and leads you toward the Great Hall. 

As you make your way to the Slytherin table, your spirits, momentarily lifted by Pansy’s support, are quickly deflated when you see who’s occupying your usual spot.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach as you spot Veronica nestled against Mattheo’s side, her head tilted as she whispers something into his ear. His laughter, genuine and warm, makes your appetite vanish. You decide that you’re not very hungry anymore.

You swallow hard, struggling to keep your emotions in check. Pansy gives your hand a comforting squeeze and gestures toward an empty seat beside Theo. Usually, Theo would be across from Mattheo, but today he’s positioned next to Draco. You hesitate, not wanting to assume he saved the spot for you, but then Theo turns and offers you a gentle smile—a smile you’ve never seen him give anyone else. As you stand there, he reaches out with that soft smile, his hand extended to gently guide you into the seat beside him.

You settle into the seat beside Theo, and with a resigned sigh, you reach for some food to add to your plate. Even though your appetite is all but gone, you know it’s important to eat.

Theo leans in slightly, his voice a low murmur as he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” he says quietly. “I had something I needed to take care of.” “That’s alright,” You murmur, sending him a quick, soft smile. “Were you able to get any sleep last night?”

Theo hesitates, unsure whether to tell you that it was the best sleep he’s had in a while or simply agree. He settles for a nod, “Uh yeah. I slept pretty good. Did you?”

“As well as I could,” You shrug, “But it was nice having you there.” He can see how flustered you are to utter those words, your gaze fixed on the tea you're stirring, and he struggles to resist the urge to offer to stay the night with you again.

“I meant what I said. I’m here for you in anyway that you need me.” You turn towards him, your expression softening as you take in the genuine look on his face. Your lips part, but you can’t manage to get anything past them. The way he’s looking at you makes you nervous.

“Oi! What are you two whispering about?” Theo’s head snaps toward Draco, who is watching you both with a look of clear distaste at the way you were leaning into each other, gazing at one another so intently.

“Nothing.” Theo snaps out, and Draco raises an eyebrow at the sharpness in his tone. A sly grin begins to form on Draco’s face as he opens his mouth to speak, but Theo interrupts with a low murmur that you can’t quite make out. Draco doesn’t say anything, but faces his breakfast with a disgruntled look on his face.

Theo engages in a lively conversation with Enzo and Draco, leaving you content to eat in quiet. However, it’s not long before Veronica's giggles start to cut through the silence, growing louder with each passing moment. When you finally look up, your heart sinks. Mattheo’s arm is wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he murmurs something into her ear. She glances up at him, still laughing, and Mattheo leans in, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Overwhelmed, you instinctively reach for Theo’s thigh, your hand gripping it tightly as you try to steady yourself. Theo looks at you, startled by your sudden reaction, but you’re not meeting his gaze. Instead, he follows your line of sight to where Mattheo and Veronica are entwined, lost in their own world. 

He drops his fork with a sigh, his hand immediately reaching out to grasp yours with a firm, reassuring grip. His touch is warm and steady as he gently pulls your focus from the scene before you. Theo's gaze lingers on the tear-brimmed edges of your eyes, his expression a mix of concern and quiet determination. He glances at your friends, still lost in their animated conversation, and feels a pang of relief that they’re oblivious to the devastation written across your face.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, rising from his seat while maintaining a firm hold on your hand. With a quick, reassuring glance, he leans down to grab your bag. “I’ll walk you to class a bit early.”

Without a word, you follow him, casting a glance back at Pansy. You silently mouth ‘class’ to her as she watches you with curiosity from over your shoulder. If your friends notice the way Theo’s hand is intertwined with yours, they make no sign of it.

The moment you're out in the hall, it feels like you can finally breathe again. A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you cling tightly to Theo’s hand as you walk, finding some comfort in the steady warmth of his touch. You appreciate how he doesn’t push you to talk or ask any questions, just quietly staying by your side. There's a comfort in knowing he’s there if you need him, without the pressure to say a word.

After a couple minutes of walking, you squeeze his hand and Theo glances over at you, “I’m not sure how I’m going to do this.”

He squeezes your hand back, “What do you mean?”

“Seeing them together,” You mumble. “It really hurts.”

“I’m sorry, dolcezza.” He speaks softly, wishing he had the right words to offer, some way to tell you how to get over someone. But the truth is, he’s still trying to figure it out himself.

“Will you help me get over him?” Theo's steps falter slightly at your question, his heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. He swallows, the weight of your words sinking in. 

He glances at you, unease settling in his stomach, “How exactly?” He briefly considers the fact that whatever you ask of him could make him fall for you more. But as long as it meant you were happy.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the floor as you search for the right words. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… be there, I guess. Help me forget about him. Distract me.”

Theo nods slowly, his mind racing. He wants to say something, to offer more than just his presence, but he knows that pushing too hard might make things worse. Instead, he gently squeezes your hand again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a comforting rhythm.

“I can do that,” he murmurs, his voice steady despite the nerves inside him. “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

You offer him a small, grateful smile, and he can see the hint of sadness still lingering in your eyes. It breaks his heart, but he pushes those feelings aside. Right now, what matters is helping you heal, even if it means hiding his own growing feelings for you.

As you continue walking, Theo keeps you close, his hand never leaving yours. And though he doesn’t say it out loud, he silently vows to do whatever it takes to make you smile again, even if it means keeping his own heartache hidden in the process.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

By the time you reach your dorm, exhaustion weighs heavily on you. You’ve spent the entire day with your head down, avoiding any sight of Mattheo and Veronica. The silence between you and Mattheo feels foreign; it’s the first time you’ve gone a whole day without speaking to him, and you’re unsure if he even noticed your absence.

Unfortunately, you share several classes with both Mattheo and, evidently, Veronica. The sound of her laugh has become something you never want to hear again.

You kick off your shoes, fatigue weighing heavily on your limbs as you move towards your bed. As you pass your desk, something catches your eye—a bundle of red flowers sitting on top of your books. You pause, your curiosity piqued, and approach the desk. With a gentle touch, you lift the bundle, revealing vibrant red peonies. Their rich color stands out against the soft light filtering through the window, and their subtle, sweet fragrance fills the air.

Your eyes catch a note nestled among the flowers. You bite your lip to hide a smile as you read his messy handwriting: your name followed by a simple heart.

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

57 / 3.2k / medic reader + Ghost + coworkers with benefits (part 1 here)

kinktober keywords: subtextual authority kink, workplace smut, rivals to rivals who fuck, coworkers with benefits?, voyeurism, edging, fingering, distracted sex, anxious sex

...

As soon as you lay back--before your back can meet the bed--Simon's hands are gripping your hips, your waist, pulling you higher on the bed, situating you the way he wants.

You’re already breathless by the time he's handled you. You stare up at him, flushed and embarrassed at your uneven breathing.

As he guides you into a comfortable position, he can feel the tension in you, the way you tense up and the way your breath comes in short, frantic bursts. "Breathe. That's it." His voice is a warm, comforting murmur.

Then he slides his hands to your thighs. His rough palms send heat to your core, and you can't help how wet it makes you. You shift, breath stopping altogether in your throat as he moves your thighs in his hands, coaxing them up and open.

A dozen catastrophic thoughts whirl around your mind, but you don't quite voice any of them. The feeling of his hands is just enough to keep you focused. You let your eyes slide closed and try to make your body relax in his hands.

He doesn't rush, Simon. But he's efficient. He puts in just enough time with your thighs--squeezing, rubbing up and down, letting his hands wander from your hips all the way to the backs of your knees--to make you pliant. You barely notice him slide your skirt up to your hips and remove the cloth barrier between him and your heat.

nsfw ⬇

He can tell you're overwhelmed. His sense of pride swells as he watches you trust him anyway. He waits for you to relax a little more before dragging his hands to your inner thighs. He slides his fingers up slowly, an agonizing crawl, until he finally reaches your heat.

The way his fingers press into your folds and his touch causes your muscles to loosen is more than enough to have you shifting around on your back, letting out a soft groan. You can't keep from twitching.

He takes notice of it. He’s careful not to show how gratifying it. His pupils dilate.

 Every single movement he makes, down to the smallest gesture, adds to the unbearable heat building in the pit of your stomach. With his every touch, he slowly, agonizingly reminds you how badly you need this. He isn't gentle. Not rough, either, although you get the sense he could be. Instead, his movements are practiced. Focused. Technical. You try to match him. You focus on the release you want, trying to help him by speeding things along. You swallow the sounds that threaten to tear out of your throat. The walls are thin, you remind yourself. Just focus on what you both need to do.

The tension starts to build, and you let your breathing quicken. Every little touch feels like it's bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point. The sensation of his fingers stroking you, homing in on that sensitive bundle of nerves, sends electricity up your spine.

Your nerves begin to light up in his hands, and your body responds even more sharply as Simon begins getting a little rougher. He doesn't want to hurt you--he wants to drive you over the edge and give you what you need.

He wants you to moan, to squirm, to cry, to let it all out in front of him. And he's not going to stop until you do.

"Talk to me, love." His voice is husky, punctuated by the wet sounds of his fingers. "Let me know what you like."

His words send another flood of heat straight to your core. Your muscles twitch and pulse and clench around nothing. Your legs start to tremble. Desperation threatens to scatter the few frayed thoughts left in your mind. His fingers work you over faster, small circles growing faster and harsher. He knows you’re close.

God, he's wanted to see you like this for so long. You look starved. Your legs tremble. your hands grip the sheets. Despite how you try to control yourself, your hips move in circles, desperate to work against his hand. As your breath grows more ragged, his hands work faster, rougher. He wants to hear you moan for him. His eyes blaze with heat as he watches you struggle to keep control. He wants you bucking and twisting, desperate to reach your climax. He wants to be the one who feels you fall apart on his hand.

You want it too. You see feel how hard he's working to get you there. But as close as you are, you can't reach it. The anxiety is still there. You’re too inside your own head, worrying that you won't finish, that you’re boring him, that this is a selfish inconvenience.

You try to banish those thoughts. But the further you try to push them down, the more they build. A groan of frustration leaves your lips as you slow, settling back into the bed. "I can't," you mutter.

He stares down at you. The frustration etched in your expression sends a pang of guilt through the pit of his chest. He watches as the anxiety takes you over, slowing your breath and undoing the intoxicating tension he'd bound up in your body. You're barely moving now. You're already resigned to ending it here. Frustration sweeps over him.

"Can't?" He tries to speak like he's not desperate to push you harder, rougher, to rail you into the mattress right now. He leans forward and lets his fingers slow but not entirely still. Is there something else bothering you? Is he not doing something right? Are you thinking of someone else?

But those questions won't help. You're overthinking already. Despite that, he can't accept that it ends here. He'll fight to keep you under him, even if you’re already resigned.

"That's alright," he murmurs. "You don't have to finish, hm? Just get yourself used to my fingers. How does this feel?"

You turn your head to the side, feeling a pang of irritation. He should just leave well enough alone. You tell yourself that, not him, because deep down you know it's an excuse. You hate that sinking feeling of disappointment, shame, self-blame. You should be able to finish, you just... can't focus.

You open your mouth to tell him off, but when he presses just a bit harder, picks up his pace just a bit more, your voice dissolves into a breathy groan.

"It feels good," you admit, your eyes fluttering closed again. "But I can't... can't get where I need to... be..." you trail off, distracted by the way his fingers circle and press that bud. Your hips move of their own volition again. It feels nice, the oxytocin washing through you. You don't want it to end. Maybe if he says you don't need to finish, it's okay for him to keep going a little longer. Just a little.

He glances down, repositioning his hand, but his gaze is snagged by your folds. Your flushed, glistening folds, dripping fluid down his hand, coating your thighs. He was so busy watching your reaction and reading your tells that he didn't realize just how goddamn wet you are.

Your heat is so inviting. He knows he shouldn't--knows he should be restrained, be clinical, at least for now--but resisting that dark impulse is impossible. His fingers stray from your clit to your slit, sliding up and down, feeling you pulse with need.

He muffles a groan, part sympathy and part lust. You really do need this. You need someone to help you. And he's nothing if not a problem-solver, right? He's the man for the job. He'll find out what you like, what makes you comfortable, what makes you cum your goddamn brains out.

You stretch your hips down with a small sigh, not quite having the presence of mind to protest as his fingers slip inside of you. The heat in your core builds in small amounts, enough to intensify the pleasurable feeling but not enough to make you feel like you’re losing control of yourself.

"Simon, you okay?" you ask, knowing he's been at it for awhile now. His hands must be tired. His wrists must be cramping. You don't want this to become a burden before he feels like he can speak up. Meanwhile, you shift, spreading slightly wider to give him more room, and let your hips glide back and forth at his pace. His fingers are impressively dexterous, even with a moving, slippery target.

God, your voice. Breathy. You don't know what it does to him. His mouth goes dry before he can respond, heat running up his spine as you spread your legs wider for him. You're relaxing. You trust him. He can't let you know how badly he wants to devour you. The way you grip his fingers makes him want to climb the walls. The way you stretch your body out right in front of him and slide your hips down on his hand makes him want to force your thighs all the way open and bury his face between them.

He keeps his voice even. His desperation can wait until he gets back to his bunk, he tells himself. "Perfectly fine. You're doing well. Stunning." The word slips out before he can stop it. He quickly moves on.. "This feel good?"

"Yes," you tell him. Short and simple. If you talk too much, you won’t be able to keep your voice down.

You should be trying to relax, wind down, and let this end naturally. But then the calloused pads of his fingertips run over a sensitive spot. You jolt and hiss in a sharp breath.

He sees it--the way your face tightens and you press your breath out. You're getting overstimulated and trying to rein yourself in. Trying too hard. He recognizes it as the usual clinical approach you prefer when it comes to the field. You're keeping your voice down, breathing evenly, avoiding the temptation to let yourself get too noisy or lose too much control.

He can’t quite find it in himself to admire your self-restraint. No, he doesn't want you to relax. He wants to see you undone.

His fingers press harder, a rougher stroke, and you jerk more harshly than the last time. "Is that where you like it?" he asks.

You grab his hand. "Nnh..."

He starts to pull his hand away, but you push his hand closer. He leans over you to stare down at your hand wrapped around his. The tangle of calloused fingers coated in slick feels strangely more intimate than erotic.

You begin to undulate your hips and grind against his hand. Your breath hitches. He's got you figured out. You don't say it, but your responses indicate you're getting closer to where you want to be. You just couldn't focus. Now you're helping him help you.

You drop all pretense of propriety and chase the high. Calls of encouragement spring out of your throat. They turn needy. You rut your hips desperately against his hand.

Simon has to dig his free hand into the sheets, and fight the urge to push you down and hold you there. It takes every ounce of restraint. He's never seen you this open. All that time spent watching your back, working with you, learning how to anticipate you--as much as he wanted this, he never saw himself with you like this.

But he shouldn't think that way. Right? This is nothing. Stress relief. Trust in your lieutenant. Implicit, privileged trust.

He works his fingers faster, rougher, more beseechingly against your soft inner walls. "Come on," he growls, voice raw. "Come on. Let it out."

You grit your teeth in frustration. You need more somehow. You need his rough palm to stop slipping around your sensitive nub and press harder. Need his fingers deeper. You push yourself against his hand. He leans forward on instinct--so you don't have to move, so he can give you more--and feels a shiver roll down his spine as he does. But the more your pretenses fall away, the more he struggles to hold his own back.

His goddamn knees feel weak. You grinding against his fingers is enough to make him want to pant like a dog.

But this is a transaction. Not personal. You're not making it there and he needs to know why. "Use your words," he growls.

You groan in frustration. You're a little beyond words at the moment.

"Eyes up, medic. Tell me what you need," he demands hoarsely. His voice is raw and low. He doesn't know whether to sound encouraging or commanding--both are what he needs you to be. He presses harder with his fingers, stroking you faster. "You need just this, like this?" Another press. "Or do you need more?"

That drop into his lieutenant voice makes you tense up. You look up at him with a weak glare. Is he serious? Ordering you around right now?

The heated frustration in your glare just pushes him to press you harder. He’d dead serious; he doesn't back down. He's made up his mind that he'll see you come apart at the seams. He'll be relentless until he's figured out how to do it perfectly.

He leans in, pressing you down, his lips at your ear. "I need to know what you need. Or I can't help you. So tell me."

You swallow, throat dry. "I don't know if I can."

Cop-out. You just love making things difficult.

"Don't bullshit me," he snaps. Tension in his shoulders stiffens his fingers. "You know what you need. Tell me how to get you there."

"You said I didn't have to," you retort as meanly as you can right now.

There it is. The prickly smartassery he can't stand. Even in his hands and at his mercy. "I changed my mind. I'm your lieutenant. It's my job to help you."

"You're not my fucking therapist."

"My job to push you, then."

The way he argues with you while his fingers are still pumping in and out of you--speeding up, you'd swear--raises more heat from the pit of your stomach. One thing you two have in common: you're stubborn. He's going to give you what you need, by God. Even if he has to convince you that you still need it.

You try to ignore how much that thought turns you on.

But Simon can tell. There's more heat than anger on your face. Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are wild, and he knows it's not rage alone.

You try to hold his glare. "Fine. Just... ah..." Your eyes flutter closed. Your hips buck up against his hand before you can stop it.

The way that stubbornness starts to dissolve away--that, and the way your hips buck up--makes him want to salivate. "Good work," he murmurs. "Keep going. Work with me."

"Focus on stimulating my g-spot," you manage. Then you reach down and begin working your clit with two fingers. You're all business.  

Simon can't help but be a little jealous of the way you touch yourself. He wants to feel what your hands can do. At the same time, he'd give anything to have you under him like this without the pretense--but you'd never let yourself do something so unprofessional.

It's that damn professional tone that really gets to him. The way you deal him orders like the field medic you are, even now. Not commanding, not begging--but direct. Clear and concise, like you speak to him when you’re working together.

"Good," he says. "That's good. Focus."

His hand shifts and he works his fingers faster, rougher. A little too rough. You want something more direct? He can do direct.

You arch off the bed at the sudden overstimulation. "Fuck, Simon--" You grab his fingers to force him to slow down. "Don't fucking hammer me!"

"I'm doing what you asked. If you want me to be gentle, use your words."

"Not gentle, just..." You huff and release his fingers. "A little softer. Match my pace."

He can't help but smirk as you command him. You're not used to him falling in line, are you? He eases up and strokes the bundle of nerves inside you with the same rhythm you roll your fingers. "Like this?"

"Yeah." You let out a sigh that dissolves into a soft moan. "Yeah."

"Good show." He murmurs. So good. Simon's stomach tightens. The way your body twists makes him want to bend you in ways you'd never let him do. You have him in the palm of your hand. He’s doing exactly what you want, matching your fingers perfectly, as you have him so easily wrapped around them. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask you if you want more than his fingers, but he squelches it.

You focus on the feeling of pleasure building up in the base of your spine. Soon, your body is moving of its own volition, riding his fingers, wanting the feeling so badly it's willing to pretend this is normal.

"That's right," he murmurs. "Nice and easy." You're almost there. He can feel it. He doesn't know which of you needs you to come more at this point. You've been frustrated for weeks. He's never so badly wanted someone else to use him for their own relief.

You seize up sharply, arch, and cry out as the first wave hits you. You keep working yourself--you have to wring as much pleasure out of this as you possibly can, fingers slipping as they circle your bud furiously.

At the sounds you make, it takes every ounce of self-control Simon has not to close his teeth around your throat.

With his help, you work yourself through the feeling slowly. It was sorely, sorely needed, and when it fades, you let yourself collapse into the creased sheets and close your eyes.

You seem so worn out and satisfied, Simon thinks. It's a good look. He carefully slides his fingers out of you as your breath slows. You'll be asleep in moments if he doesn't disturb you.

He should leave. You've been taken care of. You'd certainly make him leave if you weren't too breathless to speak. But he can't will himself to go just yet. A little selfishly, he wants to enjoy the sight of you like this a minute longer. He sits in silence as you catch your breath. He'd never admit it, but he's smitten. Just hormones, surely. The feeling will fade.

After a moment, he clears his throat. "Satisfied?"

"Mmhmm." The sound is almost a purr. It makes something warm spread in his belly.

Your flushed cheeks, the soft look on your face, your mussed hair, eyes closed, lips parted, flushed cheeks, hair tousled in the sheets--you're so vulnerable and open. His gaze trails down to the slick gleaming on his fingers.

He should go. He needs to clean himself up.

He stands up. You turn onto your side, your back to him. "This never happened, then?"

He nods curtly. "Never happened."

"Good." You fidget with the corner of your pillowcase. "But thanks."

He'll take it.

"Anytime," he murmurs. "Get some rest, medic."

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more Ghost / masterlist