#there's so much i want to talk about when it comes to the two of them bc their relationship is so fascinating

[yukioos]

"Probably write a part 3????" BABY I NEED A WHOLE SERIES! This is SO good and I can't wait to see where you take it xx

BETTER IN THE DARK

SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // after voting, the majority decides the players will stay in the game for at least one more round. after you’re served dinner, two men come up to you and flirt with you. when you don’t answer, they try to pick a fight with you. once it gets too intense, in-ho steps in and saves you. he brings you back to the group and gives you a kiss goodnight.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! i’m probably gonna turn this into a series bc i like writing about this. hope u guys r okay with that! there are 1.8k words in this. here are the links to part 1 part 2 ALSO THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 600 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH

WARNINGS: not proofread, violence, cussing, thanos and nam-gyu are dicks

TAGS: @annasnape7 @watasinekoru @namelesslosers @sxmmerchxldblog @lisaannwalterlover @gracesworks @vkeyy

after the majority vote was to stay in the games, dinner was served to the players. you stood in line behind your husband, who tried not to glance at you once he walked away. a circle guard held out a metal container for you.

you gently grabbed the cold container, smiling and mumbling out a “thank you.” before stepping out of line to your bed. you opened the container to see rice, a fried egg, beans, anchovies, kimchi, and some sort of sausage. you sat on the stairs for a couple of minutes as you ate, before a crowd began to swarm gi-hun and a man next to him.

when you looked closer, you realized in-ho was leading the group. the ‘o’ group was asking about the next game, and the former player replied, explaining how dalgona was to be the next game, and the shapes to choose. however, gi-hun couldn’t have been more wrong.

his friend asked, “so, of those, which was the easiest one to do?” and leaned in close, the ‘o’ group copying him, listening intently to gi-hun’s next words.

he replied, “the triangle.”

player 390 then asked, “and which was the hardest one?”

gi-hun answered with one word, not caring to say anymore, “umbrella.”

in-ho scoffed, “umbrella?” he rolled his eyes, laughing, “what— players actually picked umbrella?” he stood up, “they had no idea what the game was so i bet they were totally screwed, right?” the crowd agreed, nodding their heads and murmuring to one another. player 456 stared at your husband, eyebrows pointed upwards, ashamedly.

you paused your chewing and giggled to yourself, knowing in-ho loved to get on people’s nerves, and he did so successfully. player 100 suggested no one should tell anyone else to pick the triangle for the next game, as he wanted more prize money to be added. gi-hun immediately refused, explaining he wanted everyone to survive. the crowd walked away, but your husband stayed, probably trying to interrogate the former player.

your husband sat down next to player 390, and began to ask why gi-hun came back to the game, opposing every answer he gained. once they’d argued long enough about players voting ‘x’ and players voting ‘o,’ the former player’s friend intervened, and began to talk about how they needed to win the next game. the conversation began to get boring, so you returned to slowly eating your food, missing all the activities back at home.

after almost finishing half of your meal, a boy with black shoulder-length hair came to your bed and leaned against it. he stared at you for a few seconds before leaning his arm against the metal pole. you stared back with intensity, attempting to appear unapproachable and rude. he asked, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a shitty place like this?” and gave you an uncanny smile, causing your stomach to twist uncomfortably. the words would’ve been better if they were from your husband.

you continued to stare at him, not yet answering him. a sinking feeling fled into your chest, you might’ve needed to eventually fight him if he continued giving you trouble. player 124 continued, “come on, why aren’t you talkin’? i’m not gonna do any harm.”

footsteps began to approach your bed, almost caging you in. a man with purple hair and painted nails, player 230, placed his hands above a metal beam. he inquired, “hey, why aren’t you answering him? you scared? he’s a good guy, promise.” you still kept your legs crossed, and looked down at your white sheets, wishing they would go away. deep down, you knew they wouldn’t.

in your peripheral vision, you saw the two of them give each other a knowing glance, causing your stomach to churn. you quickly swallowed your food, anticipating something odd to happen. a hand suddenly grabbed your jacket and threw you to the ground. as your knees hit the hard floor, you sighed, knowing this was to happen.

as you slowly pushed yourself onto your hands, your hair dangled in front of your face, making it difficult to see anything. a fist collided with your face, causing your head to bang to the ground. people all around the room gasped at the scene, which unfortunately, included you. before you could get up, player 230 grabbed you by the neck and put his face close to yours, “why the fuck didn’t you answer him, huh? he was tryin’ to be nice, and you ignored him.” he chuckled, “now this is what you get—“

before he could continue, you balled your fist up and punched him square in the jaw. as in-ho watched the scene unravel, he knew eventually, the two would team up on you and overpower you somehow. his breathing became erratic, his eyes were as sharp as knives. he clenched his fists and ignored a question of worry from player 388.

maybe acting weaker would be better. or would acting stronger be better? you knew you could easily win these games against everyone in this room, including the creator himself, but you didn’t know how to show yourself to others. how the hell were you supposed to appear as? timid? confident? polite? intimidating? rude? god, you didn’t know, but you began to occasionally fight the men back, wanting to appear as someone who isn’t one side of anything, but the middle. swing a punch or kick every so often, but enough to let them get a couple hits.

fuck, that was not a healthy mindset. in-ho would never let you take shit from anyone.

player 001 stood up and strode over with confidence and anger. he asked, “hey kids, what makes you think you can hit anyone like that? it’s disrespectful to her, and everyone surrounding you. it’s bad manners, “not to mention, it’s two against one.” he hoped your body would be feeling well enough to play the games properly.

as the men started to walk away from your body, which was laying on the ground, the two of you felt a wave of relief. you knew in-ho would be able to take them down easily, he was specially trained to fight like hell with little effort. the purple-haired man ran his mouth, causing your husband to grab him by the neck, immediately feeling a tugging hand around his wrist. player 124 walked over, attempting to stop in-ho, “hey, get your fucking—“ he was immediately kicked in the shin a numerous amount of times before he fell to the ground, weakly holding his knee.

all the pain in your body disappeared as you stared in awe at your husband. you couldn’t believe he was yours, but you were so proud. he barely broke a sweat as he fought those men to protect you.

the group groaned, some even covered their mouths in shock. your husband let go of his neck, almost throwing him multiple feet away. the rapper mumbled and attempted to make a swing at the older man, only getting hit in the stomach as a response he hunched over in pain and gasped, “wait— wait a minute—” but was treated with no mercy. in-ho grabbed the man’s outstretched hand and twisted it, making you wince once you heard bones cracking.

he fell to the ground and groaned as he was kicked in the chest and face multiple times, trying to pathetically back away. he mumbled, “i’m sorry, sir—“ as in-ho held his hand tight against his neck. he let go, still fuming and warm. the purple-haired man coughed, and the players erupted with cheer and compliments to your husband. he awkwardly glanced around and fixed his hair, not used to all the attention. he remembered the reason why he was fighting in the first place, because of you. he quickly turned around, wide eyes darting everywhere until they landed on your body, sitting on the ground. you nervously glanced up at him, and he placed his hand in front of you, wanting you to take it.

you stood up with his help and bowed, “thank you, sir, i don’t know what i would’ve done if you didn’t step in and save me.”

he replied, “please don’t thank me, miss. it’s the least i could’ve done for you.” you shyly smiled and averted your gaze, causing him to teasingly tilt his head in the way you were looking. he wanted your eyes on his again.

he loved feeling your soft hands against his. in-ho was in deep, as he was feeling uneasy without you even after an hour of not talking to you. in-ho stated, “how about i walk you over to a group? one of the players has participated in these games, so we’ll have a high chance of winning if we stick together.” you nodded and he guided you, asking you questions about yourself as if he didn’t know you like the back of his hand. once the two of you sat down and he introduced you to the other players, he sat down close to you, but not close enough to be knee-to-knee or shoulder-to-shoulder. he asked, “do you feel okay? you took a lot of hits back there.”

you nodded, and he and his group continued to fill you in with what player 456 knows about the game. you had to admit, it was difficult playing as someone you weren’t. it was even harder to act like you didn’t know your favorite person, your husband.

hours passed, and before you knew it, it was around time to sleep. as you were about to leave to walk to your bed, a hand stopped you, gently grabbing your arm. in-ho suggested, “how about you sleep here? player 456 recommended we stay close together, so we’ll be safer.”

he pulled that lie out of his ass. gi-hun didn’t say anything about staying together at night.

you thought for a moment and grinned, “sure, why not,” and laid down on a mattress, pulling the sheets over your body. you laid on your side and mumbled, “night, young-il,” as in-ho ordered you to call him, as it was an alias. he turned his head to you and smiled, muttering a soft ‘good night,’ when you heard those words, you immediately passed out.

in-ho took a moment to himself and glanced around, making sure no one was looking before he walked to your bed. he kneeled down and gently placed his rough hand on your cheek, rubbing it as he whispered praises into your hair. he kissed your forehead, as he always did after you fell asleep.

he was so glad that you were okay.

[tookishcombeferre]

I'm a 30 year old transmasc non-binary person. I saw the movie Atlantis: The Lost Empire when I was 7 in the theater. My dad's dad had just died, and we weren't all that close. But, it really helped me to see Milo process the death of his own grandfather at the time. I think Atlantis came out about a year(?) after my dad's dad died? Anyway, I really always related to Milo even if I couldn't understand why at the time. (Now I get it.) I just watched the movie again because I wanted to, and my toddler watched bits and pieces with me while we shared some tea. They watched me *bawl.* My mom's dad, though we never got to talk about the fullness of my experience before he died a little less than two years ago, was the only family member who just understood me with no words. He never knew my name or pronouns - so he never used them. But, he got *me.* His yard was where I could climb trees, feed birds, roughhouse, and do all the "forbidden boyish" stuff. I watched Robin Hood and The Sorcerer's Stone in his living room. I built towers up to the ceiling. I got to read Frankenstein on his porch when I was in the seventh grade. I'm pretty sure my first unabridged copy of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries was purchased for me by him. He was basically my dad or second-dad. Later, he would listen to me talk about my papers, my poems, and my stories and, in turn, I'd listen to the latest of his research in biophysics, when he was still a researcher, or I'd listen to him explain, in layman's terms, the newest experiments he would read about after he stopped doing his own stuff. These were our lost civilizations and genuine arrowheads. When Mr. Whitmore handed Milo the Shepherd's Journal and said the line "Our lives are marked by the gifts we leave our children, and this is your grandfather's gift to you." My own kid was pillowed on my shoulder. I heard that line at 7. I cried in the theater because it's sad. You don't have to have lived the line for it be sad. I needed to learn loss young so I could feel loss better older. Because, now? That line collapsed on me like a ton of bricks, but I didn't get crushed by those bricks. I had a hard hat and padding to protect me. Like I said, my grandfather was like my dad. He's not coming back. But, he has given me so much. He has left me so much, and I get to decide what I want to leave to my own kid someday. I get to decide what world, what legacy, and what I leave for my own child. Because, it wasn't just the journal that Thaddeus left for Milo. It was the values that allowed Milo to remain steadfast when standing up to people physically stronger than him. I remember that right now. Especially right now. It's not just the intellectual gifts my grandfather left me. It's the tenacity. It's the love. It's protectiveness. It's the gentleness. It's the grace. It's the desire to be curious. It's the *need* to know. It's quiet faith. It's the desire to do justice. It's the desire to see peace for the next generation. It's the desire to listen to all sides of an argument before saying my own piece while also knowing when things have gone way too far and need to be shut down. It's knowing when and how to give people space to grow in their own way and time. Because, while everyone else in my family was forcing me into dresses, my grandfather was letting me climb trees in jeans and sneakers. He also didn't bat an eyelash when I cut my hair off my junior year of high school. So, he may not be here. But, he lives in the gifts he left me. So, while, I got my vaccine at 7, it didn't take effect until 28. Even then, I'm only just starting to feel like I'm actually inoculated at 30.

We can't be afraid to keep inoculating the youth. Kids need to see death, loss, and such like in their media. Withholding it from them just makes them less equipped for these exact moments when they're older. I firmly believe that.

Dear, sweet, Littlefoot, do you remember the way to the Great Valley?  I guess so. But why do I have to know if you’re going to be with me? I’ll be with you. Even if you can’t see me. What do you mean I can’t see you? I can always see you.

The Land Before Time(1988) dir. Don Bluth

[rafesplaymate]

SCREAMS glamourmodel out partying with rafe🤭🤭

YES. (the way i have these pics on one of my pinterest boards)

Lights, Camera, Action!

Rafe Cameron x Glamourmodel!Reader

❀⋆.ೃ࿔ navigation. ❀⋆.ೃ࿔ masterlist.

warnings: smut. Exhbitionism (like fr). degradation. manhandling. p in v. dom / sub dynamics. pervs all around.

a/n: like this is legit exhibitionism and power dynamics

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That’s definitely glamourmodel!reader and Rafe at one of his functions at Tannyhill. Let me elaborate…

“Keep showing your panties and shit, get your ass down!” He’d growl, coke drip irritating his sinuses and throat along with the reverb in his voice from reprimanding her. He knew that getting with a famous model meant the amount of attention that comes along with her would be excessive —but the way everyone around them is ogling her sweet self in her pretty, pink polka dotted dress makes him want to gouge their eyes out.

“Mhmm.. Rafey”, she’d whine with a pout on her full lips, makeup a mess and blowout falling from the damp humidity of the summer night and bodies surrounding them. Her cute pussy barely covered by her g-string as she dances on the outside-lounge table in their area. It’s one of her more modest dresses but the way she lets it lift up twist with her movements with no care for her assets showing is making Rafe’s possessiveness rear its ugly-head. Although she loved when he got like this.

“Ugh! Leave her alone, can’t even let her have fun. You’re such a loser!” Mocked Sarah who was dancing right along with her. The two girls fueled with liquid courage. In an equally skimpy outfit as she dances right along with her best friend. Both of them the stars of the party, always egging each other on to be as care free as they can be. It irks Rafe how much Sarah enables his girl but she quite frankly doesn’t give a fuck —y/n is way too sexy not to show herself off to the fullest extent. In fact they’d even considered getting Sarah into modeling with her too.

“Shut your bitch ass up, no one was talking to you,” Rafe bit back, reaching for his girl by the waist and tugging her down while she whined and moaned about how he’s ‘no fun.’ “Rafey —stop! Ugh, let me live!” She’d cry to him, pushing against him as he successfully manhandled her to his whim. Feeling him tug up the low cut of her dress while he pulled the ridden up skirt to cover her ass. “Shut up. Sick of you bouncing these fake tits around with your nipples showin’ and shit. Keep that shit for the magazines and shoots.” He’d grab her by the face, making her dazed eyes look into his while he scolded her. His stupid bunny, oh how he loves her.

If it weren’t for the line she’d taken earlier and the vodka she pounded back she doesn’t think she’d mind so much about her man being so controlling. She loves how possessive he is, makes her pussy wet when he gets so protective over her. But right now.. she wants to pick at his nerves and make him even angrier. She loves being a tease, especially with him.

“Thought you liked my tits, Hef paid a pretty penny for them.” She’d say with a mocking pout, bringing her french-tipped hands to rub her plump chest as she stared at him. “Don’t know why you’re so bothered, this is more than what I use to wear at the mansion parties.” She’d wrap her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to his while Rafe would pull her even closer, big hands trailing down her cinched waist to her perky ass —squeezing the globes in his palm as he smirked down at her.

“Fuck yeah, y’know I love ‘em. But they belong to me now —that old bastard can suck my fat dick.” He’d whisper with mocking; trailing his lips down her neck as he teased her wetness with the tips of his fingers. “What you’re talking about, hm? What did my little playmate get up to without me around?” His words are muffled by his trail of kisses down her neck. Bringing one hand to grope her chest while her hard nipples stabbed against his palm -encouraging her to continue with a hum. “Oh… you know.” She’d whisper in a daze from his touch. Letting him domineer her presence with his want and need for her.

“Walked around that place more than once with nothing but a pair of heels, and bunny ears on my head.” She’d moan out, head tilting back as she allowed him to mark her. His previous love-bites of ownership fading, and he’s determined to constantly leave them there so everyone around this damned island knows she’s taken for. His girl, his bunny, his playmate. His.

It takes him a minute to register her words; too entranced by her sweet-smelling perfume and smooth skin. Too entranced by her in general and the fact that he scored a fucking playmate! But when, what she said finally locked in his drug and lust infused, fuzzy brain —did his motions stop and his body stiffen. Pulling his head back quickly as his hand groping at her chest wrapped around her neck and squeezed the sides. Forcing her fluttering eyes to shoot open and look into his demeaning stare. His jaw ticked and lips pursed in displeasure. Bingo!

“The fuck, did you just say?” He’d accuse, his grip tightening on her throat. They’re lucky the other party-goers around them are too fucked up and preoccupied by other things. Sarah’s attention now focused on throwing her ass back to the thumping music while Top’ showers her in bills dramatically and Kelce talks up a girl they invited into their area. “You were what? Walking around with -with your pussy out for the whole world to see, huh? Fucking attention-whore.” He’d growl, tightening his grip and watching as her manicured hand came to scratch at his wrist. The playboy necklace against her chest taunting him with her reality before him.

“Yeah…” she’d choke out, her glossed lips twisting in a devious smirk. Her leg coming to wrap around his as she presses herself against him. Free hand coming down to run over the bulge in his khakis between their bodies as she lowers her eyes seductively. “Let some rockstars, and actors lick into my pussy with a crowd watching too.” She’d finalize. Watching as the heat in his eyes built up into an uncontrollable flame of anger, jealousy and lust. She wants to play games, fine —they can play.

Rafe loosens his hand on her throat, pushing her against one of the couches around them. Watching as she bounced on it with her legs open and the skirt of her dress flaring up. Her lace g-string and bottom of her tummy showing as she raised her arms above her head. Relaxing into the cushions with a triumphant smirk playing on her lips and eyes holding his —while she spreads her legs further. Rafe would just give her a daring smirk before he’d grab her by her waist, quickly turning her onto her knees with her upper half over the edge of the couch. Facing the patrons around them who were all in their own universe —well that was until…

Rip!

The sound of her thin dress getting ripped apart from the back as Rage pressed his bulge into her ass. Tearing the fabric from her body with a jagged line all the way up to the top. The flimsy thing falling open quickly and only hanging on by the straps from her arms. Pretty tits and body now on display as Rafe landed a firm smack on her bare ass, ripping her flimsy string of an underwear with no problem. The scene now catching attention from everyone around them as they started paying attention to what’s unfolding in front of them. Men and women alike ogling the model as she mewled and whined from Rafe’s manhandling. His large frame towering over her bent body on the couch —sexy lips twisted in a sultry purse as she looked over at him from her shoulder with pure lust in her eyes.

“Rafe what are you— Shut up.” Rafe would quickly shut up Sarah who was now watching the even unfold —trying to look away but the sight of her best friend looking like a wet dream even got her fantasizing (she won’t admit it yet, that she thinks of her sometimes late at night.) Topper lowering his unnecessary sunglasses as he let out a ‘yo!’ from the sight of his favorite playmate bent over naked in front of him. Kelce’s attention on the girl he was talking to now long gone as he took in the sight as well. Everyone around them watching Rafe dominate his girl with no care in the world except showing who she belonged too.

He’d wrap her hair around his wrist, tugging harshly and forcing her body to arch back and pull up with a harsh gasp falling from her lips. Her naked frame now completely on display for everyone around them —ripping the straps of her dress down her arms and letting it fall to her knees completely on the couch. People’s phones out and circling around them as their substance-induced perceptions readied for the show that was clearly about to start. Rafe’s body filling with immense satisfaction at his brazen display of ownership and the fact that she was allowing it. His little exhibitionist.

“See that, shit? How everyone’s looking at you, you love it huh? Love being a show-off, don’t you?” He’d whisper harshly against her ear, his body slightly bent over to do so —hand tightening his grip on her hair as her neck strained from the movement. Looking at the crowd with furrowed brows, sultry eyes and her lips in a sexy ‘o.’ Her body gleaming under the full moon and stars from the body glitter and oil she rubbed all over herself. Only thing on her body being her ‘Playmate of the Year’ bunny neckless and her cute white, stiletto-mules. Left ankle decorated with a pretty white-gold chain and dangly ‘R’ that Rafe had gotten her. The epitome of a sex goddess and showing off why she’s been ‘POTY’ so many times. Rafe was a lucky man that was forsure.

“Love it, love it so much daddy.” She’d whine sensually, moving her arms to hold onto the head of the couch in front of her; helping hold herself up so she can arch her ass higher against the bulge in his pants. Whining her hips as she left a wet mark against the khaki material. Rafe’s dick throbbing painfully and his mind ready to do something about it. Right here, right now. In front of everyone. Not giving a single fuck how scandalous this might be or how likely it is to end up on social media. She lives for that shit, he knows it. And he’d loved to be the lucky bastard who’s known for banging a playmate with a crowd. Her earlier words replaying in his head.

“Those motherfuckers may have licked into this sweet pussy,” he’d start, slightly moving his hips from her and bringing his free hand to fumble with his button and zipper. Preparing to free his cock as Sarah hauled Topper away from the scene; him complaining that he ‘wants to see the show’ as he keeps tilting his head back to look at the entertainment furthering from his vision from the tugging on his arm. Kelce and his girl watching the scene intently with pure curiosity and excitement.

“But y’know what daddy’s gon’ do right now, princess?” He finally freed his cock from the confinement of his shorts; the appendage painfully hard and leaking precum as he rubbed it up and down her soaking pussy. Prepared to complete his promise on pounding her in front of the crowd, murmurs of anticipation surrounding. The flashes from phones lighting them up as the music lowered slightly from the speakers.

Showtime!

“M’gonna fuck you right here, show everyone of these assholes how this shit right here,” He slipped the tip in slightly, her mouth dropping open in a long drawn whine as his head breached her entrance, “is mine.” The sting satisfying and her favorite feeling in the world. Not thinking anything but thoughts of his dick and needing to feel it spear her and ravage her insides. Her mean man, she loved when he got like this. Satisfied her efforts worked. More than ready to make him proud and show everyone how pretty she is when she gets fucked.

“Fuck —yeah..sloppy little pussy just takin’ me right in. Love this shit, baby.” He’d groan when his hips finally meet her ass, her eyes rolling back into her head as she begins circling her hips and bouncing slightly against him. Men and women alike around her giving soft words of encouragement and pushing her to give a good show. Rafe’s hand gripping the head of the couch right next to hers while the grip in her hair tightened even more. His lips still against her ear as he grinded deeply into her and felt her arousal begin dripping down his balls and wetting the cushion beneath them. Stupid slut, she’ll get what’s coming to her. With an almost evil smirk he stared into one of the cameras in front of them, head next to hers as he whispered in her ear once more…

“Smile for the cameras, little star. And be good for me, hm? Want this shit to get back to Hef.”

｡𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a/n: i need some water. STAT! ugh! if you made it this far without getting embarrassed i hope you enjoy! :)

[dilf-docs]

So Is it Your Place Or Mine?

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)

word count: 3,701 words

side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.

Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.

"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"

Bullshit.

Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.

"Need help?"

His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.

"I'm at my dorm, sorry"

Double bullshit.

Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.

"I can drop by later then" she suggests.

His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.

"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.

"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"

He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?

"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"

I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.

"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.

Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?

"Should I worry?"

Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.

"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.

"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"

He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.

"What I want is you"

The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.

The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.

It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.

The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.

"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.

When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.

"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"

You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.

"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.

"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.

"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.

"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"

"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.

He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.

"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.

Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.

He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.

"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"

You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.

"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?

He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.

"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"

You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"

To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.

He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.

"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"

Mine.

The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?

No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?

He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.

"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.

"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"

"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"

Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.

"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"

"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.

"Then take it, hungry one"

His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.

"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.

"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"

His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"

You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.

"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"

"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"

Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.

But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.

"Joel..." you breath out his name.

"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.

"K-keep going"

Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.

Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.

"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"

You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.

"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"

His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.

If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.

Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.

You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.

"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"

You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.

"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"

He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.

Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.

"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"

Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.

"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.

"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"

You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.

You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.

But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.

You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.

"I want to ride your belt buckle"

There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.

"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"

"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"

"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"

"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.

He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.

"Get'ere you filthy slut"

You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.

"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"

You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.

"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"

His heart takes a dangerous leap.

"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"

You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.

"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"

"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"

"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"

You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.

"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"

"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"

"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"

You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.

"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.

Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.

"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.

You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.

For a moment, it feels like it could be.

"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"

[themultifanshipper]

It was a lot of fun, being persued by by two Formula 1 drivers. 

But they would soon be getting tired of the chase. They weren't going to let you stay ahead of them for much longer. 

Warnings: smut, finally bottom franco, technically a threesome but not really, restraints (belt), edging, shower sex, anal (mxm), face fucking, tension?

Anon originally had an idea with journalist reader but I went in another direction :3

The tension between you and Max had been brewing since your rookie year. 

You'd instantly taken a liking to each other and hung out all the time whenever you had breaks. 

You'd been on his yacht, he'd been to your family's vineyard for some wine tasting. You were good friends, and you knew each other exceedingly well. 

And of course it wasn't rare for the two of you to find yourselves battling for positions on track, and even came together a couple of times over the years. 

That lead to some pretty heated arguments, you even took a swing at him once. You were both hot-headed competitors, it was inevitable. 

Nothing ever happened between you though, you'd always kept a sensible distance to your coworkers. 

But you couldn't help being a tease. 

You'd put sexy bikini pictures of yourself on holiday in your private story, which only Max had access to. 

He figured it out pretty quickly when no one else seemed to know what the hell he was talking about when he asked them about it. 

And then Franco arrived. 

But he never pushed. If this was a game you wanted to play, he could wait it out, no problem. If you got desperate enough you would come crawling to him, he was sure of it. 

Franco was the biggest flirt you'd ever seen. Surpassing the likes of Daniel and Carlos as the smoothest talker on the grid. 

 He was slightly closer to you in age, so you gravitated towards each other naturally. 

You went on holiday with him a couple of times, and you went clubbing a lot. 

So pretty soon the rumours shifted from you and Max, to you and Franco. 

And there were pictures circulating. You and Max had had your fair share of paparazzi nuisances, but with Franco it was on another level. 

It was impossible to see each other without photos coming out the next day. 

Some were photoshopped, like the ones of you and him on your yacht, kissing.  

Or at least that's what your PR team told the public. 

You hadn't slept with him of course, but 4 glasses of wine is 4 glasses of wine. 

That's 3 too many if you want to keep a clear head. And day drinking in the sun is a dangerous game when you're alone with a horny man on a yacht. 

But you politely rejected his advances, insisting that your relationship was supposed to be professional. 

Max saw the photos. Of course he did. And he knew they weren't fake, so the next time he saw you he confronted you. 

Much to the chagrin of both of your bodies’ needs. 

“So how's it going with Colapinto?” he asked, faking nonchalance while you waved to the fans at the drivers parade. 

“Nothing's going on, don't be jealous” you plastered a fake smile on your face for the cameras. 

“I'm not jealous” he snapped. 

“Sure you aren't, Max. Anyway I keep my love life, and sex life, separate from my career, you know that”  

He scoffed, turning away from you to talk to whoever was on his other side.  

During the next week you decided to spice things up a little. 

The race weekend went by without a hitch, and Max didn't bring it up again. 

You sent Max a dirty picture. 

Nothing too bad, just you in some lingerie and a see through robe that hid absolutely nothing.  

You followed it up with “shit, that wasn't for you sorry” 

If that didn't get Max riled up nothing would. 

But to your disappointment, he didn't reply. 

That night you got yourself off to Franco's answering texts instead. You sent the same picture with the same caption, and waited for him to take the bait. 

The next weekend Max cornered you in the paddock on media day. 

He’d played the game at least, sending you a delicious picture in return, in the name of fairness. 

He dragged you to a quiet corner and caged you in against the wall. 

“What the fuck are you playing at?” he hissed, pressing you against the wall. 

“What the fuck Max! What are you even talking abou-” 

“I'm not fucking stupid, I know that picture was for me” 

You sighed. 

“No it wasn't, Max” 

“Who was it for, then?” 

“Wouldn't you like to know” you smirked, which just made him angrier. 

“Yes, I would actually”  

You pushed him off roughly and he stumbled backwards, taken off guard by your sudden aggressiveness. 

“None of your fucking business. And if you want to fuck me, this really isn't the right way to go about it” 

The next day, lord knows how, Franco managed to sneak into your driver’s room. 

You sauntered off, leaving Max to fume in silence at your audacity. 

“I enjoyed that picture very much, you know” he mumbled as he approached you from behind. 

He quickly plastered himself to your back, hands on your hips while he felt you up. 

“I'm sure you did. But it was an accident” your voice shook as his hands wandered. 

He chuckled. “I am not convinced of that”  

He placed kisses along the side of your neck, trailing upwards towards your lips as he turned your head to look at him. 

“Any chance I can see more?” 

His lidded eyes bore into yours and you sighed, pushing him away half-heartedly.  

“No Franco. I can't go around sleeping with my coworkers. It's not professional” 

He smirked. “Not professional? Tell me, who was that picture for?” 

You hesitated a second too long. 

“You don't know him.” 

He bit his lip mockingly, he knew you were lying. “Okay. I guess will just go then”  

Max won the race. He was back on his A-game and you’d spent the second part of the race squabbling with Franco and Alex over 10th place for the last point. 

And he did, he slipped out without anyone noticing him, leaving you to contemplate your next move. 

You got it, at the expense of Franco's front wing. 

“That was a dirty move” he groaned into your neck. 

You'd found yourselves back in the same position, him grinding against your ass, this time in the club while the bass made your bodies thrum with excitement. 

“If you want to get my attention, crashing into me isn't the right way to go about it” 

You shivered, both at his tone and at the fact that you'd said almost exactly that to Max three days prior. 

“Why would I want your attention?” you murmured back, enjoying the feeling of his hands caressing your body. 

“Darling, we both know you want to fuck me” 

You turned around in his hold, giving him the most seductive eyes you could muster. 

“No I don't” 

He groaned and threw his head back in frustration. 

“Don't do this to me. We both want it, stop playing around and let me show you how good I can make you feel…” 

You smiled and leaned in. 

“But where's the fun in that?” 

You removed his hands from you body and slinked back into the crowd. 

What you didn't know is that Max was in the DJ booth with Lando, and with his vantage point he could see everything. 

Running away, once again. 

He saw you slip away through the crowd and over to the bar. 

His blood boiled and he decided to take action. 

But he didn't make his way to you. He went to see Franco instead. 

“Mate I need to talk to you” 

“Ok, mate” Franco was confused, but followed him towards the bathrooms anyway, where it was slightly quieter. 

“Did she send you a picture of herself last week?” Max was going straight to point. 

Franco hesitated. “Who?” 

Max rolled his eyes at the younger man “You know who, don't play stupid” 

The sudden thought that you might be in a relationship with Max flashed through Franco’s mind. 

What if he'd read the situation all wrong? What if Max had found out about the flirting and was actually about to beat him up? 

“No?” he answered, but it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. 

Max looked unimpressed. 

“Give me your phone” 

Franco complied immediately.  

Max proceeded to scroll through his messages, and clicked on the conversation with you. 

The picture of Franco appeared on his screen first, and he looked up at the man incredulously. 

“You sent one back? It was obviously bait. Are you stupid?” 

“I know it's all a game to her” he snatched his phone back “but playing it got me a very nice picture of her so who cares?” 

“I'm not playing the game and I got the same fucking photo” 

Franco frowned at his phone, and had to admit, he had him there. Maybe he had been stupid. 

“Well… you keep not playing, and I will keep playing, and we will see who get her to break first?” he suggested. 

“No” Max snapped. “I am sick of not playing”  

He glanced at Franco's screen, where the photo of you was still visible. 

They completely ignored you for two whole weeks. 

“She has been teasing us for too long. Now it's time she learned her lesson”… 

They avoided you at the weekend, and they never returned any of your calls and messages. 

You even tried sending them more pictures, but they both left you on read. 

You were bored. 

You knew something was up when you spotted the two of them deep in conversation in front of the Redbull garage. They were plotting. 

Max was pretty much your best friend on the grid, and you missed messing around with Franco. 

So on Saturday night, you sent them both a text you knew they wouldn't be able to ignore. 

Well Max might, but Franco would definitely crack. 

To Franco, you sent “If you come and fuck me now, I won't tell Max” 

And to Max, “If you come fuck me now, I won't tell Franco” 

You sent them both your room number, and waited. They both saw the texts immediately. 

Max had too much self control, so you doubted whether he would be desperate enough to show. 

You waited barely 20 minutes before Franco was at your door. 

But Franco…  

He was so easy. 

You had him on the bed, laying under you while you made your way down his body, picking off his clothing bit by bit. 

“I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me”  

His pupils were blown wide and a slight blush was creeping up his neck. 

“The offer was too good to pass up” he groaned as you rubbed yourself over the bulge rapidly growing in his boxers. 

You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you and roll you over. 

“Your teasing has been driving me crazy” he panted, hovering over you while he made quick work of your clothes. 

“Why do you think I was doing it” you muttered with a smile, and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he realised how much you'd been enjoying teasing him. 

“To make me lose it and come fuck the shit out of you?” he asked, exasperated. 

“That's the plan” you bit your lip, looking up at him with a smile. 

“Perra” he groaned, sitting up. “Turn over” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, doing as he said. 

His hands were palming your ass while he admired the view, when a sharp knock at the door broke the tense silence. 

Your jaw dropped as you looked back at Franco who was wearing a similar look of shock on his face. 

Neither of you knew quite what to do, and the knock sounded again, louder this time. 

You jumped to your feet, grabbing a robe on the way and opened the door. 

Max stood there, fists clenched. 

“Max…” 

“Is Franco in there?” 

You were taken aback by his question. 

“And bear in mind, the answer is going to determine how this evening goes for you” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, but was saved answering by Franco appearing next to you. 

“I am here… sorry” 

He looked slightly afraid, and it was understandable, because the grin that spread over Max's face was evil enough to scare even you. 

“I had a feeling you would be here” he stepped inside, crowding against you as he slammed the door behind him. “Option number two, then”… 

You didn't know what option number one was, but number two involved you having your hands tied to the headboard, while Max had his cock shoved down Franco's throat. 

Which is not something you ever thought you would see. 

But there Franco was, drooling around Max’s girth with red cheeks and tears in his eyes. 

You knew he was enjoying it though, because he was still wearing his boxers and the wet patch at the front was getting steadily larger. 

“Look at you” Max cooed “are you crying because you got caught betraying me just to get your dick wet?” 

Franco whined, hips bucking at Max's tone. 

“Or are you crying because you’re enjoying this a bit too much?” 

Franco closed his eyes, more tears falling as he breathed deeply through his nose. 

“You were fucking made for this. You've obviously had practice, slut ” 

Franco whimpered pathetically and you throbbed at the sound. 

You were fully naked, spread out for Max to admire. 

“And you” he snapped at you. “You have been teasing me for years, making me wait, while posting pictures of yourself for my eyes only. Then this little bitch arrives and you let him touch you? Absolutely not” 

He pulled out of Franco's mouth and manhandled him onto his hands and knees, facing you while Max dragged his boxers down his legs. 

Franco's eyes widened as he looked at you, glancing between your thighs at where you were glistening in the soft light. 

“You've been playing games with me since you joined the grid. And you would just let Franco have you after a couple of months? Over my dead fucking body” 

He pushed Franco down onto the bed, making his arms buckle and his back arch obscenely, and the younger man gasped. 

“So I'm going to fuck Franco, and you are going to watch.” 

God knows where the bottle of lube came from, but you were grateful for it, on Franco's behalf. 

The way Franco reacted when the first finger went it made you gasp softly. 

His eyes fluttered closed and he arched his back even more, pushing back against Max as he let out a porn worthy whimper. 

You were getting so turned on, you went to close your thighs but Max tutted. 

“Franco, hold her legs open” 

He obeyed, shuffled forwards and curled his hands around your knees to hold you in place. 

Unfortunately, that brought his face closer to your soaked folds and you could feel his cool breath down there. 

You whimpered and he groaned, leaning his head against one of your knees as he looked at your slick lips with a pained look on his face. 

“Don't you dare touch, Franco” Max growled “You need to learn patience” 

He was on three fingers already, and he was entranced by the way Franco's hole swallowed them greedily. 

He made quick work of lubing himself up and pushing into the younger man, who mewled at the stretch. 

“Jesus, you are tight.” He gritted his teeth as he pushed in to the hilt. “squeezing around me so good, maybe I should give up on her and just keep you as my plaything, hmm?” 

He gave an experimental thrust and Franco whined low in his throat as he looked up at you through lidded eyes. 

He looked so fucked out it was almost pathetic. 

But to be honest, you probably looked even worse. 

You squirmed against the bed, unable to get any sort of friction or stimulation as you were forced to watch Max rail Franco into the mattress. 

“You're fucking dripping” Max commented, finally glancing at where you could indeed feel the sheets under you becoming damp. 

He wrapped an arm around Franco's middle, shuffling him forwards until he was only an inch away from your soaked folds. 

“You want a taste Franco?” 

The younger man nodded as best he could with Max’s grip his hair. 

Max just chuckled and pushed Franco's face forward, allowing him to eat you out hastily. 

The sudden intense stimulation made you writhe under him, cursing as he sucked on your clit while his tongue delved into your wetness. 

“Fuck! Oh my god-“ you whined, hips trying to buck but Franco's hold on your thighs was too strong as he devoured you. 

As your moans increased in pitch, Max could tell you were getting closer and just as you were about to fall over the precipice, he pulled Franco's head back roughly. 

You cried out at the loss, and Max just chuckled, slamming his hips into Franco even harder. 

“Max please” you whined, and Max cooed in mock simpathy. 

He pushed Franco against you once again, revelling in the way he tightened around his cock at being manhandled like this. 

He angled his hips so that his cock pushed against Franco's prostate, and the vibrations of the resounding moan against your cunt got you right to the edge once again. 

But again, when Max saw your thighs start to tremble, he pulled on Franco's hair to separate him from you. 

Tears clung to your lashes as you were robbed of yet another orgasm, and Franco let out a loud moan. 

“I'm gonna come, Max!” he cried, and Max just picked up the pace of his hips. 

“Then come, I'm not stopping you” 

Once Franco had come down from his mind-numbing orgasm, Max pulled out of him carefully and rolled him over, making sure to avoid the puddle of cum now in the middle of the bed. 

Franco's eyes rolled back and his upper body slumped against the mattress as Max continued to pound into him while you watched helplessly. 

“You can go now, I will take it from here” he muttered as he handed Franco his clothes. 

You looked at Max. 

He looked at you on his way out, sending you a kiss before the door slammed shut behind him. 

He was making his way around the bed to come and untie you from the headboard. 

You weren't quite sure what to say to him as you stretched your arms. 

He walked into to the bathroom and turned the shower on, then poked his head around the doorway. 

“Come and join me”  

You got off the bed hesitantly. 

Was that it? Were you going to take a shower and then he’d leave? Or stay with you and talk? 

You weren't sure which option you hated more. 

You got to the bathroom and he was already under the water, cleaning himself without a care in the world. 

You approached him, putting an hand on his shoulder. 

“Max? Are you angry with me?” 

He huffed out a laugh. 

“No, why would I be angry?” 

He kept washing himself, and you had no idea what to answer. 

He had every right to be pissed after all. 

He looked at your confused face and chuckled. 

“No, I am not angry with you” 

You nodded, and he moved over a bit and pulled you under the spray. 

He pulled you against his chest and looked down at you. 

“I'm not angry, but I am sick of your games” 

You gulped. 

You could feel him against your hip, he was still hard. 

“You didn't come” you muttered, and he smiled. 

“Neither did you” 

Your heart was beating fast as you stared at him. 

“Are you planning to?” 

He nodded. 

“Oh yes. But you have a choice to make. Either I fuck you now, and we both come.” 

His hand came to cup your jaw as his thumb stroked your cheek. 

“Or, I leave right now, and you’ll never get to know how good you could've had it these past two years.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your cunt throbbed at the idea of finally getting to fuck Max. 

“Well?” his other hand trailed downwards to ghost over your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, to confirm that you were still soaked. “What will it be?” 

You gasped, head leaning back against the tiles of the shower wall. 

“Fuck me, please” 

He grinned. “That's what I was hoping for” 

He wasted no time turning you around and pushing into you roughly, your wetness easing the slide as he bottomed out on the first thrust. 

You both groaned, and he snapped his hips, determined to hear that noise again. 

He made you come twice like that, pressed against the shower wall as he took the frustration of the past two years out on you. 

He did indeed make you regret not giving in to him sooner. 

Later, in bed, you cuddled together after having changed the sheets. 

“So tell me Max. If tying me up and fucking Franco in front of me was option number two… what was option number one if Franco hadn't been here?” 

He chuckled, pulling you tighter against him. 

“If you had been alone, I would have tied you to the bed and left you there alone" 

You gasped. 

“and Franco?” 

“I would have fucked him anyway, to congratulate him for not giving in to you” 

You went silent. Thank god for Franco’s weak will. 

“Can I fuck him?" you asked "I really want to"

Max nuzzled into your neck and nipped at your skin. 

“Of course. As long as I can keep fucking you, I don’t really care” 

You hummed and turned your head, looking into his deep blue eyes.  

“Sounds good to me” 

He smiled, giving you a quick kiss before laying his head back on the pillow. 

“Me too” 

You giggled sleepily.  

Just like you planned. 

You had your best friend back, and two men were at your beck and call.  

[lilith-vodkaaunt-of-demons]

I'm no professional writer, and some of this is okay advice, but also I feel like this is focusing too much on...I can't really think of the word, but my point is that it talks about things "Feeling repetitive" or "Mechanical" or "Flowing Naturally" but put all together it seems to forget that....people don't all...speak like this?

Like the "Do: Keep Dialogue Concise" part. The "Instead of Doing This" part sounds like someone dragging out a sentence because they're afraid of the consequences of expressing that they're leaving. Meanwhile the "Consider Doing This" part has no emotion. It feels more like someone backing out of something as mundane as a particularly long Monopoly game than someone telling someone they care about that they can't take the stress and pressure of continuing some arduous task, but they're afraid their friend will be mad or hate them.

I can pretty much same the same for the "Don't: Have characters explain too much" bit, although I will add in the caveat that the "Consider doing this instead" option still functions depending on the characters current state of being. The first one comes off as someone having a break-down, babbling emotionally because the things that made them who they are have slowly disappeared and they've lost sight of themselves. The second reads more of someones who's past that, they've shut down and accepted they entire persona is a facade hiding an empty shell with no substance.

My overall point is that some of the advice is okay some of the time, but it almost feels like the writer forgot that people don't communicate perfectly concisely, perfectly eloquently, and perfectly non-repetitively most of the time. People repeat themselves, have a tendency to be unnecessarily verbose, and over explain things all the time. At one point near the end, the writer says "Repetitive Dialogue can make conversations feel mechanical and predictable." as if communication shouldn't be predictable, while also instructing the reader to pare down their dialogue to an almost mechanical point. "Don't be repetitive because that's mechanical, but don't be too wordy because that's long winded."

Again, I'm not a professional writer, but my advice? There are three core components to any and all conversations. The participants, the circumstances, and the intent. The Participants: Who all is in the conversation? What are their relationships to each other? What are everyone's feelings on the topics and the conversation in general? These things will inform how different participants behave while participating. Someone who doesn't want to be having the conversation will talk less than those who do. If someone a character likes is participating, they might talk more.

The Circumstances: Where, when, and why is the conversation happening? Is it in person? If not, what is the method of communication? Are things happening around the participants? Are they inside? Outside? Safe? In danger? A squad of rebel soldiers in a hostile area will have a different conversation than a group of coworkers in an office, even if the subject of the conversation is the same. The setting and circumstances surrounding the conversation will inform the tenor of the dialogue. The soldiers conversation would likely be more concise and clipped for speed and precision, whereas the co-workers would be more drawn out and lazy because they're more relaxed.

The Intent: What is the conversation about? Are there goals for the conversation? And if so, what are the desired outcomes for each participant? How important are those outcomes to the people that want them, and how would they go about trying to achieve those outcomes? Are there hidden ulterior motives? The intent of the conversation is the purpose of the interaction, which is then modified by the Circumstances and Participants.

Here's an example. We have two groups, Soldiers and Coworkers (the participants.) The Soldiers are in hostile territory during a war, and the Coworkers are in the office on a weekend pulling some overtime (The Circumstances.) Both groups are talking about talking a meal break (The intent.) The conversation between the squad of soldiers is going to clipped, concise, a little repetitive, and quiet as they try to find a place that's secure and defensible while they quickly eat their MREs and maybe get a quick power nap in before moving because staying in one place for too long behind enemy lines is dangerous. Meanwhile, the Coworkers conversation is going to be more leisurely. They'll waffle more between where they want to go to buy lunch. They might have small side conversations between the actual decision making of where they're going to eat. There's more room for disagreement because there's little to no stakes besides someone being less than completely satisfied with their meal. Maybe some office politcs gets brought up because FUCKING BRENT never pays for his meal even though he get THE MOST EXPENSIVE ITEM every time. The conversation will be slower, less focused, more wordy and over-explained as people suggest, strike down, and defend options.

Dialogue Do’s and Don’ts

Do: Keep Dialogue True to Character

Instead of:

"I cannot believe this is happening, and I am utterly devastated by the consequences of this disastrous situation!"

Consider:

"This is a mess. I don’t even know where to start."

The first example sounds forced and unnatural, while the second feels more like something a real person would say when overwhelmed. Keep your character’s voice in mind—how would they speak, based on their personality, background, and the situation?

Don’t: Overuse Exposition

Instead of:

"You know, Jane, it’s been three years since we met in that small town in Iowa. I was just 19, and it was the summer of 2003 when you moved to that street, right next to the café where we had our first coffee."

Consider:

"I remember the first time I saw you across the street. You had that awful red scarf on."

The first example dumps way too much unnecessary information on the reader. Stick to the essentials—dialogue should enhance the plot, not rehash everything.

Do: Use Subtext for Tension

Instead of:

"I can’t believe you left me in the middle of the night without a word! I thought you loved me!"

Consider:

"You really should’ve told me you were going. I would’ve liked to say goodbye."

The first example feels overly dramatic and obvious, while the second is subtle yet impactful. Subtext lets the emotions simmer below the surface, creating tension and making the reader feel what’s being left unsaid.

Don’t: Overuse Dialogue Tags

Instead of:

"I don’t think we should be doing this," she said worriedly. "But I want to," he said eagerly. "This isn’t right," she said hesitantly.

Consider:

"I don’t think we should be doing this." "But I want to." "This isn’t right."

Excessive dialogue tags like “said worriedly” or “said eagerly” can feel redundant. Trust the dialogue itself to convey emotion. Only add tags when absolutely necessary.

Do: Keep Dialogue Concise

Instead of:

"You know, the thing is, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. And I realize that this situation is really tricky, and I don’t know how we got here, but I know I don’t want to be in it anymore."

Consider:

"I can’t do this anymore."

The first example drones on and loses impact. The second gets straight to the point, leaving more room for tension, action, and emotional impact.

Don’t: Have Characters Explain Too Much

Instead of:

"I’ve been feeling this way because, you know, ever since I lost my job, I’ve just felt like I don’t know who I am anymore. I guess I don’t have a purpose."

Consider:

"I don’t know who I am anymore."

Over-explaining emotions or backstory in dialogue can sound unnatural. Let your characters’ actions and non-verbal cues fill in the blanks. Sometimes, less is more.

Do: Use Dialogue to Show Relationship Dynamics

Instead of:

"I’m angry at you for leaving me behind like that!"

Consider:

"You’ve always done this, haven’t you? Leave when things get tough."

The second example shows more vulnerability and history between the characters. It’s not just about the present moment—it hints at past experiences and establishes a deeper emotional dynamic.

Don’t: Use Dialogue to Tell How the Character Feels

Instead of:

"I feel so hurt by what you said to me yesterday. It really hurt my feelings."

Consider:

"You didn’t have to say that. I’ve been trying my best."

Rather than stating exactly how they feel, the second example shows the character’s hurt through their reaction. Let the emotions emerge naturally from the character’s words.

Do: Use Pauses and Silence

Instead of:

"Why didn’t you tell me? You should’ve said something earlier!"

Consider:

"You should’ve told me." (Beat) "Why didn’t you tell me?"

The pause makes the second line feel more impactful and thoughtful. Silence and beats in dialogue create space for the reader to feel the tension and weight of the moment.

Don’t: Use the Same Dialogue Formula Repeatedly

Instead of:

"Are you okay?" "Yeah, I’m fine." "Are you sure?" "Yeah, I’m sure."

Consider:

"Are you okay?" (Beat) "Do I look okay?" "I—" "No. I’m not."

Repetitive dialogue can make conversations feel mechanical and predictable. The second example introduces uncertainty, making the dialogue feel more natural and layered.

[sinofwriting]

Faking It - Max Verstappen

Words: 850 Summary: Max finds out his girlfriend faked an orgasm. Note(s): NSFW, Talks of Sex, Mention of Semi-Public Sex. Part of a kind series where drivers find out reader faked an orgasm.

Max pauses just before the entryway to the living room. “Have you ever y’know?” His brows furrow at the vague question from his girlfriend’s best friend.

“Have I ever what?”

“Faked it. Have you ever faked an orgasm?”

She scoffs, “Before Max, yes.”

His cheeks turn a bit pink at the conversation he was overhearing, but he also stands a bit taller.

He knew that their sex life was good, that she was getting orgasms, they had of course talked about it, but it was different hearing her talk to someone else about it with no idea he was there.

His brows furrowed in confusion when she speaks again, “well, I don’t really know if it counts as faking it.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s been a few times when we’ve had sex where I didn’t orgasm.”

His mind starts screaming at him, because what? He always made sure she came, usually before he did.

“Not because it wasn’t good or because I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t.” He can practically see the shrug she gives. “The sex was still good though.”

“Y/N!” Her friend screeches and it breaks up a little through the phone.

The words replay in his head as he goes back to their bedroom, lying down on the bed. He tries to think of when she would have faked it but nothing comes to mind. He’s so wrapped up in his head he doesn’t hear her call his name or get onto the bed until she’s laying down on top of him, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around her.

“What you thinking about?” She asks, pressing kisses to his jaw.

It normally relaxes the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin but not quite where he wants them, a lovely prelude to before she kisses him, but he can’t get past what he heard and he’s never been practically shy.

“When did you fake it? Having an orgasm with me?”

Her fingers pause where they had begun to lift his shirt to slide under. “Max, it’s not a big deal.”

His frown deepens and he’s pushing her upwards so they can look at each other. “Yes, it is. I always thought that I made you orgasm, usually first. And now I’ve found that isn’t true.”

She shakes her head. “You do! I promise you do.”

He doesn’t say anything and she sighs.

“It’s only happened twice.”

He doesn’t know if he’s relieved that it only happened twice or pissed that he failed twice. It should have never happened but twice was far too much.

“The first time was after the FIA gala last year.”

His eyebrows furrow, “But you talk about that night a lot.”

“It was a good night. I felt good, amazing. I loved everything we did, I just wasn’t able to orgasm. I didn’t feel unsatisfied or anything. Especially not with my wake-up call.”

He smirks at the reminder of the next morning. He had woken up just as the sun was rising and had ducked under the covers and ate her out until she was begging for him to stop. His jaw and tongue had ached for hours after, but it was worth it for the taste of her stayed just as long.

“The second time was in China. I just couldn’t stop thinking about what if someone walked in.”

“So, I didn’t fuck you good enough.”

She slaps his chest lightly, sending him a disbelieving look. “I was limping a little after. And you're lucky I was wearing those heels and everyone believed me when I said I twisted my ankle.”

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes again, picking up her hand and kissing it. He still felt a little bad that their first foray into semi-public sex had been so rough. “Why didn’t you tell me though? That I didn’t make you come?”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal to me.” She tells him. “I love having sex with you, it always feels good regardless of me orgasming or not. And in those two instances I was just happy to be that close to you.”

He stares at her, looking deep into her eyes. He still feels like he’s failed but the way she’s looking at him, all gentle wide eyes filled with truth. “I’ll let it go.”

She snorts and he covers her mouth with his hand.

“But only if you tell me next time. Just so I can immediately make it up to you.” He says, removing his hand as he says the last word.

“Okay, I’ll tell you next time.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, pressing their lips together.

She hums into the kiss, her one hand slipping out of his and returning to the hem of shirt, drawing it up so she can slip her hands underneath and his stomach flexes at the feeling of her fingertips and he’s rolling them over. Easily putting himself in between her legs.

“Feel like making a mess for me?”

She lets out a happy little sigh, teeth lightly sinking into her bottom lip as she nods. “Please?”

“Of course.”

[anhedoniawrites]

it’s not a date, we just kinda fuck around.

gif by @reidgif

june baby - victoria canal

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader.

summary: the two youngest BAU agents go on a first date

genre: fluff💌

word count: 8.5k

warnings: no use of y/n, proofread, none! (this is all foreplay for the smut that’s coming)

masterlist!

You never thought Spencer Reid would actually work up the courage to ask you out. Yet here you were, standing in your apartment with only ten minutes to spare, staring at your closet like it held the answer to life itself. Nothing seemed good enough, and you still had no idea what to wear. If you’d had even the slightest inkling that this day would come, you would have pre-planned outfits for every possible scenario—a casual coffee shop, a romantic dinner, even an impromptu museum date. But you hadn’t, because as much as you’d daydreamed about it, you never thought it would happen.

Spencer Reid had always been a harmless work crush. Brilliant, kind, and charming in his uniquely awkward way, he was the type of man you admired from a distance, assuming he was far too shy—or uninterested—to make a move. Yet somehow, against all odds, you were, nervously getting ready to go on a date with him.

The memory of how it all unfolded still made you smile. You’d been in the work kitchen, fixing your usual afternoon coffee, when Spencer had wandered in with his signature blend of distracted focus and nervous energy. You glanced up as he approached, expecting nothing more than a quick hello and maybe some small talk about the latest case. Instead, he surprised you.

“Hi,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. He stood a little too close to the coffee pot, fiddling with the lid as if it held the courage he needed.

“Hey, Spencer,” you replied, smiling warmly.

They chatted about nothing in particular—books, coffee, the endless intricacies of caffeine preferences—until, without warning, he blurted out the question.

“Would you, um… would you ever want to get coffee together? Like, outside of work?”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a sweeping declaration, but it was undeniably Spencer—quiet, earnest, and completely endearing. You’d barely managed to contain your excitement as you said yes, feeling like a teenager with a crush all over again.

Now, standing in your room, you glanced at the clock. Seven minutes. You grabbed a dress—something simple yet flattering—and slipped it on, your mind racing. You’d been waiting for this moment since the day you joined the team, and now that it was yours, you couldn’t help but wonder how the evening would go. Would he be his usual awkward self? Would he surprise you again with something bold and unexpected?

Whatever happened, you knew one thing: Spencer Reid had already managed to surprise you once.

Seven agonising minutes—each second stretched out like an eternity. The silence was suffocating, gnawing at you from the inside out, until the sudden knock at the door broke the tension. Your heart leapt in your chest. He was here. Spencer was finally here, and your nerves threatened to spill over.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, before opening the door with a forced smile. The sight of him standing there, his hands fidgeting nervously, only made your own anxiety rise. He looked just as uneasy, maybe even more so. His usually confident posture was slightly hunched, his eyes darting to the floor, avoiding yours for a moment before he met your gaze.

“Hey, Spence,” you greeted, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm.

“Hey, I- um…” Spencer hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His voice was soft, uncertain. He stepped forward, pulling a bouquet of lilies from behind his figure. The delicate white flowers were a perfect match for your taste, and you couldn’t help but smile, your nerves easing just a little. “These are for you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, your smile widening. “Spence, you shouldn’t have,” you said, reaching out to take the bouquet, feeling a warmth in your fingertips as you touched the smooth, delicate petals. The scent of the lilies was intoxicating, and for a moment, you were lost in the fragrance.

He shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting around as if searching for something to say. “I, uh… I thought you’d like them.”

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “You thought right. Come in, Spence.”

He followed you into your apartment, his presence oddly comforting despite the tension still hanging between them. You quickly moved toward the kitchen, trying to focus on something, anything, to distract yourself from the storm of emotions churning inside you.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. The apartment was far from pristine. The cluttered coffee table, the dishes piled up in the sink—it wasn’t the welcoming space you’d imagined showing him. “I’m so sorry the place is a mess,” you said, your cheeks warming with self-consciousness. You carefully set the lilies down on the counter, your hands trembling slightly as you arranged them.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he glanced around, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s fine,” he reassured you, his voice gentle. “You should see my place.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and nervous. As you filled a vase with water, you thought back to the little things he had taught you, like how to properly cut the stems of flowers to help them last longer. You carefully angled the scissors and snipped each stem at a diagonal, the sound of the cut echoing in the quiet kitchen. You remembered him telling you that the angled cut would help the flowers drink better, and you did it now without thinking. The thought of him lingered in your mind as you worked, a smile playing on your lips.

The bouquet was finally settled in the vase, its elegant white petals standing out against the cool glass. You stepped back, admiring the flowers, but it was Spencer’s presence in the room that made everything feel just a little bit brighter.

“Much better. Thank you, Spence,” you said, your voice soft with appreciation as you glanced at the flowers on the kitchen counter. Their vibrant white petals stood out against the cool, clear glass of the vase, the room suddenly feeling a little warmer, a little brighter. You grabbed your bag from the chair, the familiar weight of it grounding you. You turned to face him, your nerves still fluttering, but your excitement growing as the moment approached.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice light but with an undercurrent of anticipation.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flickering to the floor for a split second. He wasn’t sure if he was ever truly ready, especially not when it came to dates. His stomach twisted in knots, but that nervous energy was overshadowed by the excitement of being with you, of sharing a moment like this.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he replied, a nervous but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

With that, they were out the door, stepping into the crisp air of Washington. The city felt alive around them, the hum of the streets, the distant chatter of people, the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. They strolled side by side, both holding their coffee cups, yours an iced concoction with a splash of cream, his steaming hot with a swirl of cinnamon. He wasn’t usually one for aimless wandering, but as he looked over at you, he realized that this moment was worth it.

Your face, illuminated by the golden afternoon sun, was pure contentment. Your eyes sparkled as they took in the world around you, lighting up at every little thing. Whether it was a street performer, a stray cat lazily sunning itself, or the way the city skyline framed the horizon, you had a way of making the mundane seem magical. And he, well, he would do anything to keep seeing that smile on your face, to be the reason your eyes shone with that infectious joy.

As they passed a little street corner, your gaze drifted across the road, and your eyes lit up once again. There, nestled between a café and a bookstore, was a small record store with a neon sign flashing softly in the window.

“Can we go in?” you asked, your voice filled with excitement, your fingers already tugging gently at his sleeve.

Spencer followed your gaze, his heart doing a little flip at the eagerness in your voice. You had that effect on him—the way you made even the simplest moments feel special. “Of course,” he said with a smile, his voice soft but sincere. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, they crossed the street together, the world outside fading into the background as they stepped into the warmth of the record store. The air smelled faintly of old vinyl and coffee, and the soft hum of music played in the background, creating the perfect atmosphere for them to lose themselves in.

“Smell that?” you asked, your nose lifting to the air as you inhaled deeply, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “That’s the smell of the best way to listen to music.” The scent of aged vinyl, dust, and nostalgia filled the space, wrapping around them like a cozy blanket. You laughed at yourself, a light, airy sound that seemed to match the atmosphere of the record store perfectly. Spencer couldn’t help but join in, his laugh a little quieter but no less genuine, his eyes softening as he watched you.

“You spend too much time with Rossi,” Spencer teased, his fingers flicking through the rows of records, his gaze scanning the colourful covers. He was looking for something—anything—that caught his attention, but his mind was more on the way you lit up in places like this, surrounded by things you loved.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offence as you met his gaze, your hand pausing mid-air over a stack of albums. “I am offended by your words, Dr. Reid,” you replied, your tone playful, your eyes sparkling with a teasing edge.

Spencer smiled, the edges of his mouth curling up into something warmer as he continued flipping through the records, pretending to be serious. “You should be. That’s a direct quote from Rossi himself,” he said, holding up a record sleeve and giving it a quick glance before setting it back down.

Your laugh filled the space again, bright and free. You pulled another record from the shelf, this one with a faded cover you recognised from years ago. “Well, if I spend too much time with Rossi, then I guess I’m doomed to become a vinyl snob,” you joked, flipping the record over to check the tracklist. You ran your fingers over the edges of the sleeve, feeling the familiar grooves of the cover, the little imperfections that only came with time.

You glanced over at Spencer, watching him for a moment as he flipped through his own stack. There was something so easy about being with him here, in this small, dimly lit shop filled with memories and melodies. “I mean, how else are you supposed to listen to music?” you asked, raising an eyebrow dramatically as you glanced down at the album in your hands. Then, with a theatrical flair, you placed your free hand on your hip and tilted your head back, doing your best (and rather exaggerated) impersonation of Rossi. “It’s the only way to really appreciate it. The crackle, the warmth… it’s like you can feel the music,” you said, making a show of puffing out an imaginary cigar and letting the smoke trail into the air.

Spencer’s laughter was immediate, loud, and genuine, as he looked over at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh my God,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are way too good at that.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with yourself. “I’ve been practicing,” you said, striking a mock pose, your hand still poised as if holding the cigar, before you finally broke into another fit of laughter. Spencer couldn’t help but join you, his smile wide and full of affection. “Rossi would be proud,” he teased, his voice light, but there was a fondness in the way he looked at you.

You winked, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Well, if I’m ever in need of a new career, I think I’ve got this down.”

By the time you reached the end of your long search through the endless rows of records, you had carefully chosen a couple you were willing to splurge on. Cradling the records against your chest, you joined the line at the register, the buzz of the store humming around you.

When your turn came, you placed the records on the counter, chatting casually with the cashier as you fied through your bag for your wallet. Your voice was light, a touch distracted as your fingers rifled through your belongings.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had stepped closer, the faintest hint of a mischievous smile on his lips. Without a word, he slipped his card onto the reader. The machine beeped, signalling the completed transaction just as you finally found your wallet and looked up.

Confused, your gaze darted between the cashier and Spencer, who was already sliding his card back into his wallet with an air of nonchalance.

“Spencer!” you gasped, stepping out of line with him as they headed toward the exit. You gave him that look—the one that said he didn’t have to do what he just did. Your lips parted to speak, but he beat you to it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said softly, your voice laced with both gratitude and protest. Your hazel eyes darted to the floor for a moment before flicking back to him, catching the warm, self-assured look in his own. You didn’t like people spending money on you when you had plenty of your own. The records weren’t cheap, either.

Spencer, however, shrugged it off with a quiet confidence that surprised even himself. “I wanted to,” he replied simply. His voice was calm but firm, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a gentle smile. “I asked you to come out with me, didn’t I?”

You sighed, your protest melting into a small, affectionate smile as they stepped out into the crisp air. It was such a Spencer thing to do—thoughtful and kind, but completely unnecessary. Yet, as they walked side by side, you couldn’t deny the warmth his gesture left in your chest.

You glanced up at him, your eyes twinkling with a playful edge as you broke the silence. “You’re lucky I agreed,” you teased, a grin tugging at your lips.

Spencer chuckled softly, glancing down at you. “Oh, I know,” he said, his voice low but filled with humor. “Trust me, I’m very lucky.”

They continued to walk aimlessly, the crisp evening air brushing against their faces as they strolled. Spencer was mid-thought, caught up in some internal musing when your voice broke through.

“Oh my God, Chinatown, Spencer!” you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement, like a child spotting a candy store.

Your eyes lit up as they landed on the colourful archway marking the entrance to Chinatown. You couldn’t quite explain it, but Chinatowns had always been your favourite places to visit. Maybe it was the vibrant atmosphere, the intricate details of the buildings, or the way everyone seemed to know one another, creating a sense of community that felt warm and welcoming. You loved every bit of it.

Without realizing it, you grabbed Spencer’s hand and tugged him along with you, your excitement bubbling over. Your grip was firm but warm, and Spencer—despite the suddenness—didn’t resist. In fact, he found himself smiling as you led him toward the bustling street.

Your face glowed brighter than he’d ever seen as you took in the sight of the ornately decorated gate ahead, its vivid reds and golds shining under the string lights that crisscrossed above the street. He didn’t know if it was your enthusiasm or the way your joy seemed to radiate outward, but he was utterly mesmerized, trailing behind you like he was under a spell.

“We should get noodles—if you’re okay with that?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Spencer blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you with a soft, almost dreamy expression. The way you looked at him then—like he was the best person in the world just for being here with you—made his heart skip.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, his voice steady but his heart racing. Without thinking, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

Your cheeks flushed at the small gesture, and Spencer caught the faintest flicker of a smile as they continued walking hand in hand. The streets were alive with energy, from the scent of freshly steamed buns wafting from carts to the hum of chatter in the air.

Eventually, they stumbled upon a quaint bakery that led to an underground noodle bar tucked just below it. The combination was irresistible. As they waited for a table, your eyes lit up when you spotted cheese-filled mooncakes in the bakery display.

“I have to try one of these,” you said eagerly, placing your order while Spencer watched you with quiet amusement.

Moments later, you held the warm pastry in your hands, your face glowing with anticipation. “This is going to be the best cheese pull you’ve ever seen,” you declared, laughing with a childlike excitement that made Spencer’s chest tighten.

You took a bite, and as you pulled back, the melted cheese stretched from your mouth to the mooncake, just as you had promised. Your eyes widened with delight, and your laughter rang out, light and contagious.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking his head in amazement. You were like a child in the best possible way, unguarded and full of joy.

“You were right,” he said, still chuckling. “That’s definitely the best cheese pull I’ve ever seen.”

Your grin widened, and for a moment, Spencer forgot about the bustling streets around them. All he could see was your—glowing, carefree, and absolutely captivating.

The waiter called out, “Sī bīn sài Ruì dé?” his tone polite and slightly accented as he scanned the small crowd in the restaurant’s waiting area. Spencer Reid’s head lifted, recognizing the sound of his name rendered in Mandarin. He gave a small, sheepish smile, adjusting his scarf as he turned to look at you.

You arched an amused brow, gesturing toward the waiter with a tilt of your head. “That’s you, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer nodded, his hand lightly brushing against your lower back as he led the way down the narrow staircase into the cozy, warmly lit restaurant below. The rich scent of soy sauce, garlic, and sesame oil wafted through the air, mingling with the quiet murmur of diners enjoying their meals.

The waiter guided them to a private booth tucked into the corner of the room, its dark wooden walls offering a sense of intimacy. Spencer gestured for you to slide in first, always the gentleman, before settling across from you.

The two opened their menus, the glossy pages filled with enticing photos and descriptions of diyous written in both Mandarin and English. Spencer scanned the list with the precision of someone cataloging data, while you took a more casual approach, letting your eyes linger on the pictures.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Spencer asked, glancing up at you. His hazel eyes held a mix of curiosity and hesitation, likely calculating the probabilities of making the wrong choice in an unfamiliar culinary landscape.

You smiled, leaning slightly over the menu to point at the dishes you had your eye on. “I was thinking Beef Noodle Soup and maybe a fried rice platter. If you wanted to share?”

Your suggestion was casual, but you knew Spencer well enough to recognise that sharing food might not be his first choice. The germaphobic tendencies you’d seen surface in the past made your offer feel like a gamble. If he declined, you’d simply adjust your order—no harm, no foul.

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the menu. “Sharing…” he began, his tone thoughtful. “It’s not usually my preference, but—” He paused, studying your face as though weighing the pros and cons of stepping out of his comfort zone. “I think I could make an exception. Just… no double-dipping,” he added with a faint smile, his attempt at humour not lost on you.

You chuckled softly, your shoulders relaxing. “Deal. I’ll even promise to use the serving spoon if it helps.”

His smile widened, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “That would be appreciated.”

As the waiter returned to take their order, Spencer let you take the lead, quietly observing your interactions. The way you spoke with ease, your smile lighting up the space between them, was something he never grew tired of.

After the waiter left, the two settled into conversation, the hum of the restaurant serving as a comforting backdrop. You caught him glancing at you from time to time, his expression soft and unguarded.

“Two Beef Noodle Soup and fried rice,” he mused after a moment. “Good choices. Did you know Beef Noodle Soup is considered a national dish in Taiwan? There’s even an annual festival where chefs compete to create the best version of it.”

Your eyes sparkled with interest. “I didn’t know that. How do you even know things like that off the top of your head?”

Spencer shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I read a lot.”

You laughed, leaning forward slightly. “Of course you do. But that’s one of the things I love about you, you know. You always have the most random, fascinating facts tucked away in that big brain of yours.”

His blush deepened, and he ducked his head slightly, fiddling with the edge of his napkin. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured.

Their food arrived not long after, the diyous steaming and fragrant, the aroma instantly making your stomach rumble. You reached for your chopsticks, but before you could start serving yourself, Spencer gently took the plate from your side.

“Allow me,” he said, his tone soft but resolute, as though he had been planning this move.

You blinked in surprise, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Wow, chivalry isn’t dead after all. I was starting to wonder.”

Spencer shot you a mock-offended look as he carefully portioned out some of the sizzling stir-fry onto your plate. “Hey, I can be chivalrous. I just… don’t get much practice. Sharing food isn’t exactly in my top five skills.”

You laughed, nudging his arm. “You don’t say. Should I feel honoured or concerned?”

“Definitely honoured,” he replied, finishing your plate with an exaggerated flourish. “This is a rare occurrence. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Oh, I’m definitely documenting this,” you teased, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick photo of him mid-serve. “The great Dr. Spencer Reid, putting others first. What’s next, you’re going to offer me the last bite?”

Spencer smirked as he served himself. “Let’s not get carried away.”

As they began eating, you picked up a particularly long noodle with your chopsticks and dangled it in front of your face. “Do you think this could double as a jump rope for ants?”

Spencer nearly choked on his bite of rice, laughing. “That is… an incredibly specific visual. Why ants? Why not, I don’t know, mice?”

“Too predictable,” you replied, twirling the noodle like you were considering its durability. “Ants have more finesse. They’d appreciate the artistry.”

“Ah, yes, the ant gymnast community,” Spencer said, adjusting his glasses and leaning forward as though about to deliver a lecture. “You know, ants can actually carry up to fifty times their body weight, so a noodle would be the perfect workout tool.”

You grinned, using your chopsticks to make the noodles “jump” across your plate. “You’re making my case for me. Ant Olympics, here we come.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” you said brightly, slurping the noodle up with a playful flourish.

Spencer raised an eyebrow and then, without a word, picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks and held it in front of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes, suddenly serious. “If I were an ant, this would be like carrying a wrecking ball.”

You burst out laughing, nearly dropping your chopsticks. “You’re so weird!”

“Only because you bring it out of me,” he replied, popping the dumpling into his mouth with a small, triumphant smile.

They continued their meal, each taking turns to make the other laugh with increasingly absurd food-related jokes. Spencer even attempted to balance a broccoli floret on his nose, which ended with you snorting and him losing the floret mid-laugh.

By the time they finished, your sides ached from laughing, and Spencer looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in weeks. As he reached for the bill, you caught his hand and grinned.

“See? Sharing isn’t so bad,” you teased.

He smiled back, his eyes warm. “Only with you.”

Once they left Chinatown, the streets of Washington, D.C. buzzed with life, but Spencer and you were lost in their own little world, laughing uncontrollably over the events of the day. Every inside joke and playful jab sent them spiraling into fits of laughter, their shared energy a bright spot in the bustling city. For Spencer, the date had already been perfect, but he wasn’t ready for it to end just yet. He had one last plan to cap off the evening, though it wouldn’t come into play for hours. Until then, he just needed to keep you distracted.

You nudged him playfully as they strolled along. “Alright, something you never got to do as a kid but always wanted to,” you said, your tone suddenly serious despite the twinkle of curiosity in your eyes.

Spencer hesitated, the question catching him off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile creeping across his face. “I don’t know,” he began, his voice soft. “I’ve always liked reading books and spending time with my mom.” He glanced at you, embarrassed by how ordinary his answer sounded.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grounding him. “That’s sweet, Spence,” you said softly. “But come on, there’s gotta be something.”

He exhaled a small laugh, his gaze shifting to the pavement as he admitted, “Well, I always wanted to play Laser Tag.”

You stopped in your tracks, your hazel eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait. You’ve never played Laser Tag?”

Spencer shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “I mean, no, not really. It just never came up.”

You were already shaking your head in mock horror. “That’s unacceptable. We’re fixing this right now.”

“It’s fine. We don’t have to—”

But you were already tugging him along with determined speed. “Nope. This is happening. You’re about to experience the childhood you missed out on, and it’s going to be amazing.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm, your energy was contagious. Before he knew it, they were standing at the counter of a nearby arcade, you grinning ear to ear as you requested two tickets for Laser Tag.

Spencer tried one last time to protest. “Really, you don’t have to do this—”

“Consider it my treat,” you interrupted, handing over your card to the cashier. “A thank-you for the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

The sincerity in your voice silenced his objections, and he felt his heart swell. As the cashier handed them their gear, you turned to him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you teased, strapping on your vest. “Let’s see if all that genius-level intellect helps you out on the battlefield.”

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. “You’re going to regret this. I may not have played before, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to win.”

“Bold of you to assume,” you shot back with a smirk, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the arena.

As they stepped into the dimly lit room filled with neon lights and fog machines, Spencer felt an unexpected rush of excitement. You turned to him, your face illuminated by the glowing lights, and he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he’d been missing out, but with you by his side, he was more than ready to make up for lost time.

The neon lights flickered, casting an otherworldly glow over the Laser Tag arena. Fog swirled around Spencer and you as they ducked behind barriers and navigated the maze-like layout. The sound of distant footsteps and laser beams zipping through the air made it feel like they’d stepped into a sci-fi movie.

Spencer crouched low, trying to strategize his next move, but your sudden battle cry made him jump. You darted out from behind a glowing pillar, your laughter echoing through the arena as you fired your laser, landing a direct hit on his vest.

“Gotcha!” you shouted triumphantly, your grin wide and uncontainable.

Spencer stumbled back in mock defeat, his hands raised. “Okay, okay, truce! I’m still learning!”

You rolled your eyes, playfully wagging a finger at him. “No mercy, Reid. You’re my bitch now.”

You turned to sprint away, but Spencer surprised you by diving behind a barrier and quickly firing back. The red lights on your vest lit up, signalling a hit.

“Ha! Who’s the genius now?” he teased, standing up with a victorious smirk.

You clutched your chest dramatically, pretending to be mortally wounded. “Betrayed… by my own date!” you gasped, collapsing onto a nearby barrier.

Spencer burst into laughter, his usually reserved demeanor completely melting away. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head as he helped your back up.

“And you love it,” you quipped, sticking your tongue out before taking off into the maze again.

The game continued, a back-and-forth of sneak attacks, exaggerated reactions, and endless laughter. Every hit was met with playful banter, and every moment felt like peeling back the layers of their guarded hearts. Spencer, who had always been so serious and calculated, found himself letting go, caught up in the pure, childlike joy of the moment.

At one point, they both ended up crouched behind the same barrier, breathless and laughing so hard their sides hurt. You leaned your head against his shoulder, your face flushed from running. “Okay, I admit it,” you said between giggles. “You’re pretty good for a first-timer.”

Spencer glanced at you, his hazel eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I had a good teacher,” he replied softly.

For a moment, the chaos around them faded. They were just two people, sitting side by side, finding solace in each other’s company.

You nudged him gently. “See? Childhood dream fulfilled. What’s next on your list?”

He chuckled, his gaze dropping to the glowing floor. “Honestly? I think this might be enough for one night.”

“Enough?” you teased. “We’ve barely scratched the surface! Next time, we’re doing bumper cars.”

Spencer laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I think I’m going to need a lot of next times with you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression softened, and you reached out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Then we’ll make that happen,” you promised.

As the game timer buzzed, signalling the end of their session, Spencer and you made their way out of the arena, still laughing and teasing each other. A leaderboard lit up on the screen near the exit, and Spencer froze, his eyes widening.

“No way,” he murmured, stepping closer to the display.

You leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. Your jaw dropped when you saw his name at the top of the list. “You won?!” you exclaimed, grabbing his arm and shaking it excitedly. “Spencer Reid, first-time Laser Tag champion! I’m so proud of you!”

He turned to you, his grin almost bashful but undeniably proud. “Beginner’s luck, maybe?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, your face lighting up with genuine excitement. “You crushed it out there! I mean, I’m a little salty that you beat me, but still—you’re officially a Laser Tag legend.”

Spencer laughed, the sound bubbling out of him with pure joy. “A legend, huh? I’ll take it.”

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “You better. This is a big deal! You’ve got bragging rights now.”

As they stepped out of the arcade into the cool night air, you looped your arm through his, your energy still electric. “Okay, next time we’re teaming up. Imagine what we could do together!”

Spencer looked down at you, his heart warm and full. “I think we’d be unstoppable,” he said, his voice soft but confident.

As they walked down the busy streets, still laughing and recounting the best moments of the game, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like he’d won more than just Laser Tag. With you by his side, he’d found something he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing—a piece of joy, of freedom, of connection that made him feel whole again.

As they continued down the lively streets of D.C., Spencer’s smile lingered, a quiet sense of contentment radiating from him. You were still buzzing from the Laser Tag victory, your hand resting comfortably in his as they walked.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you said playfully, looking up at him. “What’s next on this magical mystery tour of a date? Because if it’s as fun as Laser Tag, I might actually burst from happiness.”

Spencer chuckled, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. “Well,” he began, his voice soft but teasing, “I do have one more thing planned. But it’s a surprise.”

Your eyes widened with curiosity. “A surprise? Spencer Reid, you’re full of secrets tonight. What is it?”

He shook his head, his lips curving into a sly smile. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”

“Always,” you said with a grin, letting him guide you down a quieter street.

The hum of the city faded as they walked, replaced by a peaceful stillness. You tilted your head, trying to guess where he was taking you, but Spencer kept quiet, his excitement barely contained. Finally, they rounded a corner, and your breath caught as the grand façade of the National Gallery of Art came into view, illuminated beautifully against the night sky.

“Spencer,” you whispered, awe in your voice. “The art museum? It’s closed right now.”

He smiled, his fingers lacing tighter with yours. “Not for us.”

As if on cue, a side door to the museum opened, and a man in his mid-thirties stepped out, waving at Spencer.

“Dr. Reid!” the man called warmly. “Right on time.”

“Thanks, Jacob,” Spencer said, his voice full of gratitude. He turned to you, his expression soft. “Jacob’s a curator here. He agreed to stay late and let us in. Just us.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked between Spencer and Jacob. “You’re kidding. We get the whole museum to ourselves?”

Spencer nodded, his heart fluttering at the pure joy on your face. “I thought you might like it. I know how much you love art, and, well… I wanted to do something special for you.”

You blinked back a sudden wave of emotion, your chest tightening with affection. “Spencer, this is… this is incredible. Thank you.”

He smiled, a little shyly. “You’re worth it.”

Jacob opened the door wider, gesturing them inside. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

As they stepped into the museum, the quiet echoed around them, amplifying the beauty of the vast, empty halls. The dim lighting highlighted the paintings and sculptures, making it feel like they’d stepped into another world.

You turned to Spencer, your eyes shining. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He ducked his head, his cheeks tinged pink. “I just wanted to give you something memorable. Something… magical.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “You’ve done more than that, Spence. This is perfect.”

He smiled, his heart swelling at your words. “Come on,” he said softly, leading you toward the first exhibit. “Let’s explore.”

And together, hand in hand, they wandered through the museum, the art and the quiet intimacy of the moment weaving a memory neither of them would ever forget.

The museum was humour, the kind of quiet that invited reverence and reflection. Their footsteps echoed faintly as they moved through the halls, pausing here and there to admire a painting or sculpture. Spencer’s hand lingered at your lower back, a subtle gesture to guide you but also to stay close, as if the intimacy of the space demanded it.

They came to a room filled with sculptures, the soft lighting casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Your attention was immediately drawn to a particular piece—a sculpture of two women, one older, one younger, the younger standing on the shoulders of the older as if reaching for something just out of sight.

You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching slightly. Spencer noticed your stillness and took a step back, letting your take in the piece without interruption. Your expression shifted, your usual brightness giving way to something quieter, deeper.

After a few moments, he couldn’t help but break the silence, his voice soft so as not to disturb the moment. “How does it make you feel?”

You didn’t turn to him right away. Your eyes remained fixed on the sculpture, your hands loosely clasped in front of you. When you finally spoke, your voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of your thoughts.

“Seen,” you said simply, then paused as if to find the right words. “In a weird way. I don’t think I’d be who I am without my mother, and this piece proves it in a way. It makes me feel less alone too, like I’m not the only one who sees myself this way.”

Spencer tilted his head, his gaze flickering between you and the sculpture. He could see it now—the younger woman’s outstretched hands, the older one’s steadying stance. The balance between them spoke volumes about trust, sacrifice, and love.

“You feel like you’re standing on your shoulders,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You nodded, finally glancing at him. “Yeah. Every step I’ve taken has been because you let me stand on your foundation. Even when things weren’t perfect, you were still there, holding me up.” You smiled faintly, a bittersweet curve of your lips. “It’s nice to see it represented like this, you know? It’s like… someone else understands.”

Spencer took a small step closer, his voice gentle. “You’d be proud of you. I don’t think anyone could look at what you’ve built for yourself and feel anything less.”

You turned fully to face him now, your hazel eyes soft but shining. “Thank you, Spence. That means a lot.”

He gave you a small smile, his hands in his pockets as he glanced back at the sculpture. “It’s beautiful. Just like the way you see the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re such a charmer, you know that?”

“Not really,” he admitted with a small chuckle, “but I mean it.”

For a while longer, they stayed there, side by side, letting the sculpture’s quiet power wash over them. In that moment, it wasn’t just art—it was a connection, a shared understanding that went deeper.

The weight of the moment lifted as they moved on, wandering into another section of the museum. The air between them felt lighter now, a quiet understanding still lingering but giving way to the playful energy they always seemed to share.

It started with a chuckle from you, your hand covering your mouth as you stopped in front of a sculpture of a stern-looking man with an exaggeratedly large nose. “Okay, tell me that doesn’t look like Hotch when he’s annoyed,” you whispered, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

Spencer glanced at the sculpture and bit back a laugh. “It’s the eyebrows,” he said, nodding in agreement.

You gasped, pointing. “The eyebrows! Yes! It’s like he’s about to say, ‘Reid, stop overexplaining.’"

Spencer laughed, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart skip. “Okay, okay, but look at this one,” he said, leading you to a nearby bust of a man whose face was frozen in a hilariously exaggerated scowl. “Tell me that’s not Rossi after someone forgets to bring him coffee.”

You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my God, it’s perfect!” you managed between giggles.

They moved from sculpture to sculpture, pointing out ridiculous expressions and coming up with stories for each one. Spencer, ever the genius, concocted elaborate backstories for the pieces, each one more absurd than the last.

“This one,” he said, gesturing to a marble figure of a man dramatically clutching his chest, “was probably just told that his favorite gelato shop ran out of pistachio.”

You doubled over laughing, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. “Stop, you’re going to get us kicked out!” you said, though your laughter made it clear you didn’t mean it.

“You’re the one who started it,” he teased, his grin wide and unrestrained.

They rounded a corner and found themselves in front of a statue of a cherub with a particularly mischievous expression. Spencer tilted his head. “This one’s definitely plotting something. Probably planning to steal cookies from the other cherubs.”

You wiped a tear from your eyes, still laughing. “You’re too good at this. Have you been secretly practicing?”

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

As they continued exploring, their laughter echoed softly through the empty halls, their joy filling the quiet space. For a little while, they let themselves be kids again—carefree, silly, and completely immersed in the moment.

Spencer, usually so reserved and composed, felt freer than he had in years. And you, watching him let loose, felt your heart swell with happiness. It wasn’t just about the art or the laughter—it was about being together, sharing a moment that was uniquely theirs.

When they finally paused to catch their breath, leaning against a wall in between fits of giggles, Spencer looked at you with a soft smile. “This might be the most fun I’ve ever had in a museum.”

You grinned, your eyes shining. “I told you, you just needed the right partner in crime.”

He nodded, his expression warm. “I think I found them.”

And with that, they set off again, hand in hand, ready to see what other treasures—and laughs—the museum had to offer.

As they wandered back toward the grand central hall of the museum, the playful energy between them began to settle into something softer, quieter. The warm lighting of the space casts a golden glow over the room, highlighting the details of the sculptures and paintings around them. You paused by a large marble statue of a couple intertwined in an eternal embrace, your gaze lingering on the delicate way the sculptor had captured the curve of their hands and the tilt of their heads.

Spencer stopped beside you, his eyes following yours to the statue. He said nothing, but the air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken thoughts. The laughter from earlier seemed to hang in the distance, replaced by a gentle stillness.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression soft, your lips parted slightly as if you wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Spencer’s gaze flickered from the statue to you, his heart stuttering as he caught the way the golden light played on your features.

Neityour of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

Spencer’s hand reached out, slow and hesitant, his fingertips brushing against yours. The touch was featyour-light, but it sent a ripple through both of them, grounding them in the moment.

Your eyes searched his, questioning, yet trusting. He took a step closer, the space between them shrinking until it was almost nonexistent.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as his face hovered close to yours. The world around them seemed to blur, the art and the quiet fading into the background as the only thing that mattered was him—his eyes, his presence, the warmth of him so close.

Spencer hesitated, his gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes, as if silently asking for permission. You gave him the faintest nod, your lips curving into a soft, encouraging smile.

It was painfully slow, the kind of moment that stretched on forever, but neither of them rushed it. Their foreheads brushed first, a tentative, intimate touch that sent shivers down your spine. His nose bumped yours lightly, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

And then, finally, achingly, his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, and unhurried, a perfect balance of tenderness and curiosity. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your skin as if you were something fragile, something to be cherished You leaned into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself as your heart soared.

Time seemed to stop entirely. There was no overthinking, no second-guessing—just the quiet certainty that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled back, their faces still close, neither of them spoke right away. Spencer’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand. “That felt… right,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “It did,” he agreed, his voice equally quiet.

And as they stood there, bathed in the golden light of the museum, they both knew they’d just shared a moment they’d carry with them forever.

Hand in hand, they made their way back toward the main entrance of the museum, their fingers still entwined as they shared quiet smiles and the lingering warmth of the kiss. The halls, now empty of their playful laughter, seemed to hum with the remnants of the night’s magic, a soft kind of peace wrapping around them.

When they reached the front, they were met by Jacob, who was standing by the gift shop, a welcoming grin on his face.

“Did you two enjoy the private tour?” he asked, clearly amused by the soft glow in their expressions.

“It was perfect,” You replied, your voice light with contentment. “We couldn’t have asked for a better night.”

Spencer gave Jacob a small nod of thanks, and they made their way toward the gift shop. Of course, you, ever the curious soul, immediately started scanning the shelves, your eyes lighting up as you spotted a section of artist books and unique prints.

Spencer stood back a little, letting you take it all in. It was clear from the way you were absorbed in the display that you were in your element. Your fingers traced the spines of the books, your eyes lingering on the vibrant art, the words, and the stories behind them. It was a rare thing to see you so lost in admiration, and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, appreciating the way you connected with the world through art.

You picked up one of the books, flipping it open to the first page. “Spence,” you called softly, turning to him with a gentle smile. “Which artist was it who made that sculpture of the two women?”

Spencer walked over to you, his gaze following yours to the shelf where the artist’s work was displayed. He didn’t need to think twice. “Julie Rrap,” he replied.

You nodded, your fingers brushing the cover of the book titled Body Double. You seemed almost hesitant at first, as if deciding whether or not to pick it up. But then, with a quiet sense of reverence, you carefully opened the book and placed it in your hands, holding it close to your chest for a moment before glancing back at Spencer.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. There was something in your eyes—something that said this moment meant more to you than you could express.

Spencer smiled warmly, his heart swelling a little. “I’m glad you like it.”

You ran your thumb along the edges of the book, your gaze still soft as you flipped through the pages, your eyes drinking in the art and the words. It was as if the world had slowed down again, and they were both wrapped in the quiet, intimate moment of shared appreciation.

“I think I’m going to get this,” you said, your voice thoughtful, almost to yourself. “It’s… I don’t know. It feels important.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze still on you as you carefully placed the book in your arms, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “It’s yours. You deserve it.”

Spencer reached into his pocket as they approached the counter, his hand finding yours once more, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He placed the book and a few other items you had picked out onto the counter. Jacob, who had been standing nearby, gave them both a knowing smile as he rang up the items.

“You two seem like you had a good time,” Jacob said, his tone light and friendly.

Spencer smiled, pulling out his wallet. “It was a perfect night, thanks to you.”

You turned to Jacob with a grateful expression, your eyes bright. “Thank you for letting us stay after hours. It really made the evening special.”

Jacob nodded, giving you a small wink. “Anytime. Glad you enjoyed it. You two have a good rest of the night.”

After Spencer finished paying, he gathered the items and handed them to you, who accepted them with a soft smile. “Thanks again,” you said, your voice warm.

With a final wave to Jacob, they left the gift shop and stepped into the cool night air. The city was quieter now, the streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. As they walked toward Spencer’s apartment, the evening felt like a perfect bookend to a day full of laughter, art, and unexpected moments of connection.

Spencer, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, pulled you closer as they walked. “So, what do you think? A quiet night in to wrap things up?” he asked, a playful note in his voice.

You smiled, your eyes glinting with excitement. “Sounds perfect.”

They continued down the sidewalk, their footsteps in sync, the world around them fading away as they looked forward to whatever came next—together.

thank you for reading!

please like & reblog if you enjoyed!

part two!

masterlist!

[alsofoundinpeas]

Beyond the Window

Summary: With her package plan a success, the only thing standing between Y/N and Spencer now was his job. But as soon as he returned home, nothing would hold them back from finally acting on their feelings—this time, with no windows in the way.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Some might consider this dubcon (talk of Spencer watching reader through her window but reader had wanted him to) so please be aware of that! Fingering (f!receiving), oral (both m and f receiving), unprotected P in V sex (birth control mentioned), overstimulation/multiple orgasms (both m and f receiving), dry humping (if you squint), creampie (fuck I hate typing that), minor corruption kink, heavy praise, Virgin!Spencer, Sub!Spencer (he is pathetic and LOUD in this FYI), Soft Dom!reader, Perv!Spencer and Perv!Reader (they're back at it again LMFAO). Both fluffy and smutty. They match each other’s freak your honor!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Anddd done! This was, to date, the filthiest thing I've written so I'm nervous but I also loved writing it LMAO. I hope you guys enjoy part two as much as I enjoyed writing it :') I'll be putting out more sub!Spence in the future, but for now I hope you guys like this!! As always, please let me know what you guys think and if you do enjoy it then please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Spencer was certain the universe was playing a cruel, twisted prank on him.

It was the only explanation for being called into work early on a Sunday morning when he was supposed to be off. The night before, he’d gone to bed without replying to Y/N, hoping to come up with the perfect witty, flirty response the next day—when his brain wasn't a pile of mush. As he hurried to pack a go-bag and get dressed, Spencer cursed under his breath for waiting. Now, he’d have to send a hasty, jumbled apology and hope that Y/N would still want him to come over when he got back.

While Spencer drove—a task he loathed but had no choice in, given the lack of time for the metro—Penelope briefed him on the case details. The team was being sent to Wyoming to assist with a rapidly escalating unsub, which explained the need to get there quickly. Spencer couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as Penelope spoke. Even with the case's urgency, his mind kept returning to Y/N.

“Reid?” Penelope sighed, then tried again. “Hello? Earth to Reid?!”

Spencer snapped back to reality, his face flushing as he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got distracted. What was the last part again?”

Penelope's laughter echoed through the phone. “What’s keeping your mind so busy? Besides all your usual genius stuff, that is."

Spencer groaned, knowing that the blonde wouldn’t stop pressing until she got an answer. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly began to explain.

"There’s this girl who lives across from me, and I’ve had a crush on her for a while… We’d run into each other a few times at the library and the coffee shop near my place, but recently, a package of hers ended up at my door. I took it to her yesterday morning, and we ended up hanging out—" He paused, swallowing hard as his mind drifted to what had happened that night, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. "Anyway, she texted me to come over again, but then I got called in for the case. So, yeah, she’s just been on my mind."

Spencer winced as a loud squeal erupted from the phone, quickly followed by the sound of enthusiastic clapping.

“Spencer! That’s adorable! What’s her name?”

“Nope. Not a chance. I know you’ll look her up and start stalking her!” Spencer protested as he pulled into the parking garage. “Look, I just got here, so I’ll see you when we get back. Please keep this between us for now, alright? I don’t need everyone hounding me about it while we have a case to focus on.”

Penelope groaned dramatically but gave in, sighing in playful annoyance. “Ugh, fine, lover boy. You just ruined all my fun,” she grumbled. “Be safe, my sweet angel, and tell Derek to call me when you guys land!”

Spencer finished the call and hung up, swiftly typing out a message to send to Y/N before he had to go in. His thumbs clumsily pressed the buttons as he hurried, letting out an annoyed sigh as he fumbled with his flip-phone. He’d never been a fan of modern technology, but if getting a new phone meant it would be easier to talk to her, he’d consider it.

Good morning! I hope you slept well. Apologies for the late response. I’d love to come over, but unfortunately, I’ve been called in for a case. Would you still like me to come by once I get back?

Spencer gave a nod to himself, hit send, then gathered his things and stepped out of the car.

Y/N paused when she heard her phone ding, toothbrush still in her mouth. She quickly finished brushing, swishing mouthwash as she walked to her room to grab her phone. Returning to the bathroom, she spat out the mouthwash before finally glancing at the waiting text.

A small giggle fell from her lips as she read Spencer’s message, leaning back against the sink as she responded.

Of course, Spencer. Only if you want to :) xoxo

He texted like an old man (which wasn't surprising, considering his wardrobe). She thought it was charming. She placed her phone on the bathroom counter and stepped toward the shower to start the water, a smile still playing on her lips from his message.

A content sigh fell from her lips once she stepped into the hot stream of water, letting the water relax her tight muscles.

As her soapy hands began to wander her body, her mind wandered back to Spencer and just how deliciously pathetic he’d looked stroking himself to the sight of her. Honestly, Y/N had worried she’d scared the poor guy with her message after he’d watched her the night before, so seeing his text was a relief. Now, she just had to wait for him to return from his case—and then he’d finally be all hers.

The week crawled by, each day stretching on painfully, leaving both of them restless and longing for each other's company.

Each night when Y/N came home, she’d glance out of her curtains, hoping to see that Spencer had returned, only to let out a quiet sigh when she found he hadn’t. She couldn’t remember ever being this excited to see someone before. Something about Spencer had her completely hooked—not just his looks, but the man behind them. After spending time with him, she was eager to uncover more about the sweet, brilliant person who lived across from her.

Another four days went by before the text she’d been waiting for finally came through.

Hey pretty girl, we just landed so I’ll be home in about an hour. Are you up for some company?

Y/N arched a brow as she read the message, re-reading it a few times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. That didn’t sound like Spencer at all… but she was too eager for him to come over to worry about it now. She’d figure out who actually sent it when he arrived.

With a small grin, Y/N typed her reply, then set her phone down to get ready and tidy up her apartment.

“Morgan! Come on! Are you serious?” Spencer griped, swatting at the man in an attempt to grab his phone back. “What did you say to her?”

Penelope had (accidentally) let it slip to Morgan that Spencer was, in her words, "dating but not dating this super cute girl who lives across from him." Naturally, she’d ignored his requests for privacy, tracked down the tenant list for Y/N’s building, and found her online after figuring out she was the one. So, when Morgan glanced over Spencer's shoulder and saw the carefully composed message he’d written, he snatched the phone and sent something entirely different.

“Relax, kid! I’m just helping you out. You’re going to scare her off if you keep talking to her like a geezer,” Morgan chuckled, tossing him back his phone before standing from his seat and stretching. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head in frustration before unlocking his phone to check the message. He cringed at what Morgan had sent, but then his heart skipped a beat as he read Y/N’s reply.

Come over whenever you’re ready, pretty boy. I can’t wait to see you. :)

Spencer’s face flushed as he brushed off the curious looks from the team, eager to get off the jet and head home to drop his stuff off—then straight to Y/N’s. A mix of nervousness and excitement churned inside him, his hands trembling as he started the drive home. It felt surreal to him, knowing not only that she was excited to see him, but that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

A firm knock at the door pulled Y/N’s attention from the couch, a bright smile spreading across her face as she jumped up to answer it. "Coming!" she called, quickly unlocking the door. When she opened it, Spencer stood there, looking a bit nervous and holding a bag of takeout from her favorite diner.

"Oh, Spencer," she murmured, her gaze softening as she noticed the bag. "You’re so sweet! You didn’t have to get dinner—I was planning to order something when you got here." She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him and taking the bag from his hand so he could slip off his coat.

Spencer waved it off with a sheepish grin as he followed her into the kitchen. "I wanted to," he said. "I noticed you ordered from them a lot and thought it would be a nice surprise." His eyes widened in panic. "Not that I’ve been, like, stalking you or anything! And, um, I'm sorry if I didn’t pick the right thing. I can run back and grab something else—"

“Spencer.”

Y/N sat down the plates she'd gotten out for them and silenced his nervous rambling by gently cupping his cheeks. Spencer froze mid-sentence, his mouth slightly open as he looked down at her. She smiled up at him, softly stroking her thumb along his cheekbone.

“You did perfect, sweetheart,” she reassured him, her gaze flicking to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “It was so thoughtful of you to pick up dinner. I'm sure I'll enjoy whatever you ordered. Thank you.”

Spencer swallowed, his heart pounding at the feel of her hands on his face. He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself before he whispered, “Of course.”

Y/N smiled, brushing her hand over his cheek one last time before turning back to plate the food, which looked and smelled delicious. Once she finished, she headed to the fridge, glancing back at Spencer. "Wine, water, or soda?"

"Water, please. Thank you."

Nodding, Y/N poured herself a glass of wine and then filled one with water for him. They walked into the living room, both of them buzzing with anticipation for what was to come later. They sat side by side, enjoying the warmth that came from being pressed together as they began to eat.

"So," Y/N started, laughing softly before continuing. "Who texted me from your phone earlier today? Unless the grandfather ghost inhabiting your body decided to take a rain check."

Spencer groaned in embarrassment, chuckling awkwardly as he glanced at her. "Sorry about that… that was my co-worker, Derek. And best friend too. He accused me of 'talking to you like a geezer' and decided to try and do better himself."

Y/N laughed even harder, putting her fork down to take a sip of her wine before replying. "I knew it wasn’t you!" she said with a triumphant grin, then paused, a new realization dawning on her. "You talk about me to your team?"

Spencer hesitated, finishing his bite slowly before taking a drink and nodding. "Sort of… I told Penelope about you, and then she mentioned it to Derek. I’m sorry—i-is that okay?" His fingers pushed his glasses up, a nervous habit of his.

It was more than okay. A giddy feeling rushed through her at the idea of him talking about her to his co-workers, recalling how he'd mentioned during their first hangout how much he valued them. She nodded, nudging him with her shoulder gently.

“You apologize too much, Spence. It’s totally fine. If anything, I’m flattered,” she admitted with a grin.

It didn’t take long for them to finish eating. Once the plates were cleared and placed in the sink, Y/N turned to Spencer, a small smirk playing on her lips. Spencer swallowed, leaning back against the counter, his eyes locked on her with a mix of curiosity as she began to speak.

"Do you watch every girl you're interested in through their window? Or am I just special?"

Her tone was playful, not angry or accusatory, but Spencer still tensed, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain himself.

"I swear I didn’t mean to come off as creepy or anything," Spencer stammered. "It’s just… from the moment I met you in the library, you were so captivating. And when I found out you lived across from me, I couldn’t help myself—"

Y/N's gaze softened as she realized just how nervous he actually was, and she took a step forward, shushing him with a finger to his lips.

"Spence, hey. Look at me, sweetheart,” she murmured, her arms loosely wrapping around his neck. She waited until their eyes met, then continued, her fingers gently twisting the hair at the nape of his neck. “I was just teasing. I wanted you to watch. That’s why I left my curtains open.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at her admission, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he recalled every time she’d left her curtains open. All this time, she had wanted him to watch. The realization sent a strange warmth through him, and he carefully placed his hands on her waist.

“So, was the package at my door part of your plan too?” he breathed, his expression a blend of lust and adoration as he looked down at her.

Y/N's answer came in the form of a nod and a smug grin. Spencer chuckled, his nerves easing the longer he held her in his arms.

"I didn’t think you’d ever make a move, so I decided to take matters into my own hands," she said softly, still grinning as she met his gaze, mirroring the admiration in his eyes.

Spencer wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. “Is it wrong to say I’m glad you did?” he murmured, his hands gently caressing her lower back through her shirt. “You’re just… perfect. I was afraid you wouldn’t even give me the time of day if I’d tried to.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open in surprise, her brows furrowing as she tilted her head. “Are you serious?” she asked incredulously, letting her hands slide to rest on his shoulders as she leaned back in his embrace. “Spencer, I adore you. You could’ve asked me out in the library, right then, after just thirty seconds of knowing each other, and I would’ve said yes without a second thought. You really don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She tilted her head up, brushing her nose against his, continuing before he could speak. "Let me show you just how incredible I think you are. Please?"

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, his heart racing at her words. It was exactly what he wanted, more than anything. But he hesitated, his mouth working as he fought to find the right words.

"I'm a virgin!" he not-so-eloquently blurted out instead.

Y/N's head jerked back, blinking hard as she processed his words. Had she heard him right?

"Wait... what did you just say?"

Spencer blushed hard, averting his gaze to the ground as he repeated himself.

"I'm a virgin."

It was Y/N’s turn to suck in a sharp breath, the admission arousing her more than she’d care to admit. She rubbed his shoulders gently before using one of her hands to guide his face back to hers, her gaze earnest as she looked at him.

“Honey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We don’t have to do anything at all—“

Spencer shook his head vigorously at that, a low whine emitting from his throat as he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want to do everything with you. I want to more than anything, I swear! I-I just… I don’t want it to be bad for you,” he whispered, unnecessary shame lacing his words.

“Spencer… sweetheart, it would never be bad for me as long as I’m with you,” Y/N whispered, her voice warm and steady. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, babe. Honestly, we could just curl up on the couch, watch a movie, or talk. I love talking with you, about anything.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at her words. No one had ever told him they truly enjoyed his company before, nor had anyone ever shown such genuine affection or concern for his emotions. It was a feeling he hadn’t known he was missing.

“I’m more than sure, Y/N. Please?” he mumbled, his grip on her hips tightening slightly. “I-I want to make you feel good.”

She paused, her eyes closing as she carefully considered her next move. After a long breath, Y/N gave a small nod, then pulled away from him completely.

“Follow me, then.”

Spencer hurried after her, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his eagerness to keep up. Once they reached her bedroom, Y/N shut the door and turned to face him, leaving him standing in the middle of her dimly lit room. He glanced around, almost in disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was really here—standing in her room and not caught in some dream.

“Bet it feels different being in here rather than just looking in,” Y/N teased, stepping closer to him.

“Very. I’m still waiting for the cameraman to jump out and tell me it’s all a prank.”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she shook her head with a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not happening. No prank, sweetheart,” she hummed, her eyes catching the way his gaze swept over her, full of unspoken desire.

Y/N smirked as she took another step forward, urging Spencer backward until the backs of his knees hit her mattress. She reached up, pushing down gently on his shoulders until he gingerly sat on the bed, looking up at her with wide eyes as she moved to straddle his lap. Her fingers carded through his hair, tugging gently and eliciting a whimper from him as she cocked her head.

“Quit looking at me like that,” she murmured, scratching her nails gently against his scalp.

A shiver ran down Spencer’s spine, his brows furrowing at her words. He shifted underneath her, resting his shaking hands on her hips. His tongue poked out to wet his lips, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened at the sight.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to ruin you.”

Y/N’s words lingered in the air, their breaths the only sound breaking the stillness. The tension between them was electric, each waiting for the other to break first. Finally, Spencer did, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke.

“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”

The slight tremble in his voice and the doe-eyed look he sported were all it took for Y/N’s resolve to crumble completely.

With a low groan, her lips crashed onto his. Their mouths melded together, the small whine bubbling in Spencer’s throat encouraging her to kiss him even harder. His hands reached up to cradle her face, matching her intensity as their lips moved together.

It wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

Spencer didn’t kiss her like the shy, hesitant man from earlier. Instead, his kiss was fiery, almost desperate, as though he wanted to drown in her and never resurface. And she found herself wanting exactly the same.

Y/N’s hands wandered from his hair down his chest, letting her fingertips dip beneath the hem of his shirt as their tongues brushed together. Her nails gently dragged along the soft skin there, and she felt his erection twitch from where it was firmly pressed to her core. Spencer whimpered, breaking their kiss with a soft gasp as he looked up at her pleadingly.

“Please,” he panted, his hands reaching for her hips to pull her down into him. Y/N rolled her hips against his, moaning lowly at the friction. She repeated the action once before stopping her movements, climbing off of him despite his protests with one simple command.

"Take off your clothes, Spence."

He complied immediately, scrambling to stand and strip out of his clothes. His fingers fumbled as he worked at his tie, his focus stuck on her as she undressed before him. A frustrated groan left his lips as he finally yanked the tie off, his hands moving too slowly for his own liking.

Y/N arched a brow, chuckling at his irritated noise as she stepped out of her pants. She reached up to stop his hands, beginning to unbutton his shirt herself. "What's got you so worked up, hm? It's not like it's anything you haven't seen before," she purred, sliding her hands under the fabric and slipping it off of him.

The shirt hit the ground with a muted thump, and her eyes roamed over his newly exposed skin hungrily. Spencer whined at her teasing, letting his hands roam up and down her sides as she worked on getting his pants off.

"I could see you like this an infinite amount of times, and it would still take my breath away every time," he murmured, his hands gently squeezing her hips.

A faint pink spread across her cheeks at his words, and she lifted her face to place a soft kiss on his lips, a silent thank you. No one had ever made her feel as treasured as Spencer did. He gazed at her with a devotion that felt almost reverent, as though she were someone to be worshipped—and he longed to be the one to worship her.

Which was highly ironic, considering she was the one sinking to her knees the second his pants pooled around his ankles.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Spencer's voice raised pitch as she steadied herself with her hands on his thighs, looking down at her with wide eyes, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they threatened to slip down from the angle.

"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetheart?" Y/N murmured, leaning forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to his hip. "I want your pretty cock down my throat. You okay with that?"

The sound Spencer made was almost pained, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. His mouth parted, a stutter escaping him before he finally gave in, nodding instead. His cock twitched in his boxers, aching to feel her touch.

"Words, baby. Use your words."

Y/N's lips skimmed across his navel, peppering kisses along the smattering of hair there as she waited for his response.

"God—yes! I'm okay with that," Spencer whined, his hips bucking forward instinctively from her touch. "Please... please touch me—"

Y/N couldn't deny such sweet begging. It would be downright cruel if she did.

Her fingers found the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly. She kept her eyes locked on his, carefully assessing his every reaction to ensure there was no trace of doubt before proceeding. When she saw none, she swiftly yanked them down the rest of the way, letting them pool around his ankles with his pants.

Spencer gasped as the chill of her bedroom air met his warm skin, goosebumps spreading across his arms as he fought the urge to shy away from her gaze. He never thought that highly of himself in the physical aspect— all lean muscles, lanky limbs, and pale skin spattered with freckles and a few random scars. But his insecurities faded the moment he heard her breath catch, her eyes filled with admiration as they lingered on him.

"You're so beautiful, Spencer," Y/N breathed, bringing a hand up to grip him gently. "So, so beautiful."

Her mouth was on him before he could respond.

A keening sound filled the room as he watched in pure awe as she dragged her tongue up and down the length of him slowly before her lips wrapped around the flushed head of his cock, a spark of pleasure shooting up his spine as his hands flexed by his side. She sucked gently, swirling her tongue around the tip before pulling off of him to speak.

"Don't be afraid to hold onto me, sweetheart. Go ahead."

Spencer's hands immediately came up to cradle the back of her head, finding purchase as she returned to what she was doing. The sight of her on her knees and taking the length of him into her mouth had his knees almost buckling. It was something he'd dreamed about for nights on end, but now that it was actually happening, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"F-fuck—" He whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut to prevent himself from cumming right then and there.

All he'd ever experienced before was his own hand (and occasionally some desperate humping against his mattress), so the feeling of her mouth around him was otherworldly. Just when he thought it was safe to open his eyes again, Y/N smirked around her mouthful and pushed her head down to take him in completely.

"Oh—!" Spencer cried out as he hit the back of her throat, jolting and stumbling backward and falling out of her mouth with a slick 'pop'. His chest heaved as he reached down to grip himself tightly, staving off his orgasm. He didn't want to cum yet. Not this quickly.

"I-I'm sorry, it just felt too... too good—"

Y/N gently stroked his trembling thighs, pressing a kiss beneath his belly button before rising to her feet. She shushed his stammered apologies with a kiss on his forehead, caressing his face as he caught his breath. His face was flushed, both from embarrassment and arousal, and the sight was more endearing than it should have been.

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Absolutely nothing," she whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning to crawl onto her bed. “Get up here, baby,” she crooned as she laid back against her pillows, patting the spot beside her.

Spencer almost tripped over his pants in his haste to follow after her, kicking the fabric away before he kneeled onto the mattress, smiling meekly at Y/N as she watched in amusement. "I w-want—" Spencer paused as he watched her lean forward so she could unclasp her bra, completely enraptured. "I want to taste you. Please?"

Desire coursed through her at his words, searing through her veins as she met his gaze. She loved how pretty the word please sounded falling from his kiss-swollen lips. She slipped free from her bra, tossing it to the ground before answering his pleading.

"Go ahead, baby. Take whatever you want—I want you to have it all."

Spencer swallowed hard at that, a small grin playing on his lips as he moved forward to settle between her spread legs. He kneeled between them, taking off his glasses and setting them on her nightstand before lowering himself to hover over her. He bumped his nose against hers, his grin widening as he moved to tentatively kiss along the side of her neck.

Y/N moaned at the feeling, tangling her fingers into his tousled strands. He continued, trailing his kisses down the slope of her shoulder before pausing to suck a small mark into her skin, relishing in the soft noises falling from her lips. Once he was satisfied with his mark, he brought his lips down to mouth along her breast, laving his tongue over the taut bud of her nipple.

"Spence—" she whimpered as he closed his lips around the hardened peak, suckling with a low groan that rumbled against her skin. She tugged at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. "Feels so good, sweetheart."

Spencer hummed, pulling off her breast after a moment and switching to the other to give it the same treatment. Y/N whined, arching into his touch as he began to move down her body. What he may have lacked in physical experience, he more than compensated for with knowledge.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't a prude. He'd read plenty of erotic novels, as well as countless books all centered around the female anatomy and how to inflict the most pleasure so that he could at least pretend to feel prepared for his first time. It seemed to be paying off, though, if the noises she made were any indication of how he was doing.

Spencer's hands came up to rest on her hips as he settled on his stomach between her thighs, hissing softly when his erection pressed into the mattress. His eyes met hers, and the clouded look in her eyes was all the encouragement he needed.

"God, you're soaked," he whispered in astonishment as his finger traced the damp spot in the front of her panties, causing a breathy chuckle to slip from her lips.

"How could I not be?"

Spencer blushed, leaning down to kiss her inner thigh before pulling the fabric down her legs. His breath hitched at the sight of her glistening pussy, fully on display for him without the barrier of their windows in his way. Any coherent thought that was swirling around in his head vanished, replaced with an urgent need to taste her. He moved without thinking as he latched his mouth onto her eagerly, groaning against her slick skin as he began to lap at her hungrily.

"Fuck! Spencer—" Y/N cried out, her grip on his hair tightening at the unexpected pleasure. Her head tipped back against her pillows as her hips writhed under his ministrations, rolling against his mouth as he devoured her.

There was little to no technique— just pure, unbridled enthusiasm. But it felt so good that she didn't care. He alternated between sucking at her clit and thrusting his tongue into her, needy moans slipping from his lips the entire time he did.

"Fingers, baby—" she gasped, biting her lower lip harshly to stifle a loud moan. "Use your fingers, too."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He pulled away from her, licking the taste of her from his lips as he brought two fingers up to her entrance. He focused his gaze on her face as he pushed them inside of her, his mouth hanging open and soft breaths panting against her skin as he began to thrust them.

"Like this?"

His tone wasn't cocky or arrogant. It was curious, like he was genuinely invested in finding out what felt the best for her. She nodded, a choked moan slipping from her lips as he grazed against that rough patch of nerves inside of her that had her hips thrashing.

Spencer watched in fascination for a moment before bringing his head back down, his eyes fluttering shut as he began to trace her clit with his tongue. His hips rocked instinctively against the bed, grinding against it in a desperate attempt to find some relief for his aching cock as he brought her closer and closer to her climax.

"Spence—" Y/N whimpered, her hands falling from his hair to grip the sheets as she clenched around his fingers. "I-I'm cumming—"

Spencer groaned against her, doubling his efforts so he could watch her fall apart on his fingers. With a soft cry, Y/N came hard, her eyes squeezing shut as she trembled underneath him. He continued his movements, pumping his fingers into her gently until she was whining and wriggling away from his touch.

Spencer watched her in awe, kneading her thighs and hips to help her come down from her high.

"C'mere," she panted after a few minutes, finally opening her eyes to look up at him as he moved to hover above her.

A proud grin made its way to Spencer's face as he obeyed, resting on his forearms as he looked down at her. The hazy look in her eyes made his heart race, knowing that he was the cause of it doing more for his ego than he cared to admit. She returned his grin, leaning up to kiss him softly and tasting herself on his tongue.

"You did so good, sweetheart. Such a good boy for me," she mumbled against his lips.

She broke the kiss to press on his shoulders, rolling them over so she straddled him once more. A lazy smirk adorned her lips as he looked up at her, his pupils so dilated that the soft brown of his eyes was indiscernible. She began to rock her hips against his aching cock, a sigh slipping from her lips as her folds dragged over him.

Spencer moaned lowly at the friction, bringing his hands up to palm at her ass as she continued her movements. His fingers dug into her flesh as she spoke, but he didn't hear a single word she said as he kept his gaze locked on where her pussy was gliding along his length.

"Hey," Y/N cooed, patting his cheek gently to guide his eyes back to hers. "Eyes on me, sweetheart."

Spencer whined, his hips bucking underneath hers in an attempt to bring back the delicious friction that had been taken away when she lifted her hips. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't listening," Spencer mumbled sheepishly, his face flushed as he held her gaze.

Y/N chuckled, tutting in mock disappointment as she gripped his chin. "I know you weren't," she muttered with an arched brow before continuing. "I was asking if you wanted to use a condom or not. I'm clean and—"

"No condom!"

Y/N jumped, startled. The urgency in his voice sent a wave of warmth through her as she eyed him in amusement, enjoying the bashful look that immediately appeared on his face after his exclamation. Spencer cleared his throat, attempting to regain some of his dignity.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to borderline shout that," Spencer said softly, his voice cracking slightly. "I just— I want to feel you, please. Without a condom in the way, preferably."

The grin that spread across her face could only be described as salacious as she nodded, cradling his face before leaning in for a tender kiss.

"No condom it is, then."

Y/N shifted up onto her knees, reaching between them to align him with her entrance before pausing when he spoke up.

"I— um... C-can I be on top of you instead?" he whispered, looking up at her with nervous eyes.

Her gaze softened at the sight, and she nodded immediately. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want, remember?" She murmured with a fond smile, rolling off of him to lay back against the pillows.

Spencer thanked her quietly, moving to hover above her once more. His body trembled as he propped up on one arm, reaching down to line himself up with her once more. She cradled his face, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone reassuringly. He took a deep breath to steady himself before pushing forward, sinking into her.

The feeling of her tight walls wrapping around him had him keening while she moaned just as loudly in return, dropping his head into the crook of her neck as he sucked in desperate, shaky breaths. He'd never experienced pleasure so overwhelming before. He was honestly convinced he'd died right there in her arms, pressing sloppy kisses to her skin just to prove to himself that he was, in fact, still alive.

"God— feels so good," he began to babble, moaning softly as he pulled his hips back slightly before thrusting forward again. "So tight... so wet— fuck!"

Y/N dug her nails into his shoulders, whimpering as he thrusted into her again, this time a little harder. "That's it, Spence," she panted, encouraging him to begin really moving. "You feel so good, baby. So fucking deep."

Spencer's hips jerked at that, his head dropping back into the crook of her neck as he began to drive into her in short, jagged thrusts. Moans slipped freely from his lips, mingling with hers as their bodies moved in tandem.

It didn't take long before the familiar tightening in his stomach came back, but he was too lost in the pleasure to stop. The feeling of Y/N around him was addictive. He seeked solace in her walls, rutting into her like a man possessed now as he sang her his praises against her skin. His hips stuttered as he lifted his head up, crashing his lips onto hers in a messy kiss as his hips pounded against hers even harder.

"Gonna— cum, fuck, I'm cumming—"

Spencer cried out against her lips, burying himself as deep inside of her as he could before filling her with rope after rope of his release. A pitiful noise fell from his lips as he broke the kiss, his eyes wide as he gawked down at her. His hips stopped moving, but before he could speak, Y/N was looping her arms around his neck and pulling him down.

“Did I say you could stop fucking me, Spencer?” Y/N’s voice was taunting in his ear, her nails digging into his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him in place.

Spencer’s brows pinched together as confusion washed over him, and his arms trembled as he struggled to remain hovering above her. His cock twitched inside of her as she canted her hips up, causing him to hiss softly from the overstimulation. His lower lip wobbled as he stared at her with a half-dazed, half-pleading look.

"W-what?"

“You greedy boy,” Y/N purred as she rolled her hips again. She smirked at the whimper he let out before tilting her head to skim her lips across his. “Don’t you want to feel me cum on your cock? Hm?”

Spencer shuddered at her words, chasing helplessly after her lips. He whined petulantly when she tilted her head, keeping him from succeeding in getting his kiss.

“I do,” Spencer whimpered, nodding fervently. “I wanna feel it so bad,” he groaned, his words beginning to slur from the pleasure coursing through him from head to toe.

“Then keep fucking me, sweetheart.”

A determined look crossed over his face, his brows knitting together as he shifted up onto his knees and pulled her hips up before thrusting forward. The change in angles had her crying out as he brushed against her sweet spot, and he grunted as he began to rock into her slowly, pushing past the sweet sting of overstimulation. He tightened his grip on her hip with one hand while his other moved to where they were connected, rubbing small, sloppy circles against her clit as he began moving with a purpose.

“Mm—“ Y/N groaned out, her eyes threatening to close as she struggled to keep them focused on his face. “Just like that, Spence. Ah—!“

The sound of his hips snapping against hers paired with the slick, crude sound of him fucking his cum back into her had his head lolling back, a guttural moan rumbling in his throat.

His hips were relentless, chasing her pleasure more so than his own now. It was messy and borderline feral—their mixed arousal coated his pelvis and her thighs and one of the corners of the sheets had come up from Y/N yanking at them. But neither of them could find it in themselves to care.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Spencer begged, shifting her legs up onto his shoulders and clinging to her thighs as he drove into her. “Please—wanna feel you cum on my cock… I need it—“

The sound of his pleading hurled her over the edge. Y/N’s nails nearly tore through the sheets as her eyes squeezed shut, cry after cry of his name falling from her open mouth as she came around him. Her body trembled from the force of her orgasm, her walls clenching so tightly around him that it triggered his second climax unexpectedly.

“Oh my God— oh— fuck!” Spencer wailed, devolving into a series of whimpers as he spilled everything he had into her.

After a moment of ragged breathing, he turned to press a kiss to her ankle before easing her limp legs off of his shoulders and to the bed. Y/N stroked his hair with shaky hands as he crumpled over on top of her, their bodies warm and damp with sweat. Their chests were heaving as they struggled to catch their breath, with Y/N whispering into his hair how good he did and how perfect he’d made her feel.

They stayed curled up for a while, but eventually, the stickiness became too much to ignore. They both stumbled into her bathroom—both for a quick shower and for Y/N to pee to avoid a UTI. After changing the sheets, they returned to her bed, and Y/N turned away to switch off the lamp, leaving them wrapped in the peaceful darkness.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” Spencer asked, a shy grin on his face as she turned back to him, snuggling into his embrace as he pulled her closer.

Y/N huffed out a soft, sleepy laugh, nodding against him. “If you want me to be, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion as her eyelids fluttered shut.

“Of course I want you to,” Spencer replied, his words followed by a small yawn as sleep started to take hold of him too.

“Looks like it’s official then. I’m your girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend. Now, get some rest, my sweet boy.”

It wasn’t until the following evening, after a full day spent with Y/N on their first official date—a trip to the museum and lunch at his favorite restaurant—that he noticed something tucked into his pocket. A giddy grin spread across Spencer’s face as he unfolded the lacy pink panties, a small note tucked inside that read: For you to take on your next case. ;) xoxo - Y/N.

Spencer glanced down at the fabric in his hands, a soft chuckle escaping him as he silently thanked whatever force had made her the one to fill the vacant apartment across from his.

Continued A/N’s and tag list!! <3: Big big thank you to everyone that enjoyed part one and came back to read part two :’) And thank you to everyone that wanted to be tagged!! If you guys would like for me to start doing an official tag list, please let me know :’) <3 @halfbloodwriter , @opheliahotchner , @mothgrrrl666 , @silver138, @elliet1ou

REMINDER: I do not give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please just ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[thesquidgame]

The Moments After

Hwang In-ho x wife!reader

Part One Part Two

Summary: In-ho deals with your sudden collapse while you receive treatment.

Warnings: angst, medical emergency, hospital, stitches, blood, viral infection, understaffed hospitals, trauma, violence

Word Count: 2.5k~

In-ho didn’t know how slowly time could pass before today. Sitting in the sterile white hallway of the hospital, bouncing his knee, staring down at his blood-soaked hands, every minute felt like hours. He always thought that was an exaggeration, but here, in this moment, he knew it to be true. Every now and then he would look up when he thought that at least half an hour had passed, only to find that it had been less than a minute.

After he had run you into the ER, chaos erupted. An entire medical staff instantly swarmed you, asking countless questions, all that he was almost too frazzled to answer. He told them only what he knew; that you had been acting strange lately, what strange behaviors you had, and that he woke up earlier that night to find you throwing up blood. And that you hadn’t stopped since you had started.

After that he could only focus on you, screaming your name over and over again as you blinked your eyes slowly, in a daze of blood loss and whatever had happened to you to make you throw up so much.

And then, the hand he didn’t even realize was gripping yours slipped away from his. A nurse held him back as they wheeled you into a deeper part of the hospital that he couldn’t enter. It was suddenly very quiet. Unlike the insanity that had just happened around him, there was complete and total stillness around him. He was far enough into the hospital that the noises of the ER were inaudible. In-ho never knew how quiet a hospital could be, but between the silence, the white walls, and the glacial pace of time, it felt like he was being tortured.

It had been an hour since he had arrived in the hospital, he only knew because of how often he glanced at the clock before any staff talked to him. 

“Sir? Are your feet alright?” 5 AM, the time he knew the doctors changed shifts in your hospital. The man speaking was young and looked terrified by seeing a 40-year-old man covered in blood sitting in an empty hallway. “Are- are you okay?”

In-ho glanced down to see that tracks of blood were running from his feet. He just noticed the pain. He still didn’t care. “No, I need to know what’s happening to my wife?” He demanded as he stood up.

Shame washed over him. Why hadn’t he asked before? He knew the answer, he didn’t want to talk to anybody, that would make this real.

“Sir, I- I think you need to get some stitches first, your feet look-” 

In-ho made the difference between him and the young doctor. He picked him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall. In-ho didn’t consider himself a violent man, but right now he had no idea what he was capable of. 

“What happened to my wife.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“I- I think I need to treat your feet fi-” In-ho pushed him further into the wall.

The doctor gulped, “What- what’s her name?”

In-ho let go. “(Y/n) Hwang.”

“Nurse Hwang is your wife?” The doctor looked away.

“Yes.” In-ho had done countless trainings and interrogated countless criminals. He knew when someone was afraid of something. “Why are you looking away from me.”

The doctor started walking away, stammering, “If you come with me, I can help you find out what ha-”

“Don’t walk away from me. What aren’t you telling me.” The doctor stopped in his tracks.

When he turned around, In-ho saw tears on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. We- we didn’t know.”

In-ho stalked towards him, leaving almost no space between him and the younger man. “Didn’t know what.”

“We noticed she was acting strange. We thought- we thought it must just be stress.” He gulped, “and if it wasn’t,” he got quiet, “we didn’t know how to deal with it. We were all so stressed out all the time. We- we didn’t have any time or resources to step in or talk to her about it.”

They knew something was wrong with his wife, but they hadn’t done anything about it. In-ho wanted to grab the doctor and slam him against the wall. But he couldn’t. Hadn’t he done the same exact thing? Hadn’t he been too stressed to prod further about what was happening? In-ho thought that because you were a nurse, you would do something if you thought something was wrong, or talk to him about it. He was just as bad as them. No, he was worse. He was your husband. He was supposed to take care of you, that was what he had sworn to do on the best day of his life, your wedding day.

In-ho wanted to break down. He wanted to collapse and roll into a ball on the ground and cry. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know anything about your condition, he had to figure out what was happening, he had to do something.

In-ho croaked, “What happened to her?”

The doctor silently walked away, sensing what had just happened, and In-ho followed behind. “I’m going to see if anyone can come tell us what happened.” He pressed dials on a phone and called someone. “A doctor will be here soon. The surgery is almost over.”

Surgery? In-ho knew there was a reason that all of the doctors and nurses had rushed away and not come back, but hearing it was different than just simply knowing it.

“Can I look at the cuts on your feet?”

In-ho didn’t respond, just sat down in a chair and put his head in his hands. 

It was another long wait before anyone came out to talk to In-ho, and eventually, a woman and a man came out wearing scrubs, “Mr. Hwang?”

In-ho stood up immediately, staring at the doctor who looked to be the same age as him. In-ho didn’t have to ask the question, the doctor already knew what he was waiting to hear. The other doctor sighed, “She’s alive.”

In-ho let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “My name is Dr. Park, would you like to take a seat?”

He didn’t like that. In-ho knew that tone of voice. He had used the same one at his job when he was giving bad news. “No, tell me now.”

The doctor reached up and took off his surgical cap. “Your wife had a large blood vessel in her esophagus explode, causing internal bleeding. We were able to help correct it using bands in surgery.” The doctor sighed again, as In-ho held his breath. “However, that isn’t the concerning part. There is almost always an underlying condition causing this. We sent a rush blood panel down and found that your wife’s liver results came back abnormal. We believe she has cirrhosis.”

Cirrhosis. He had only heard about this in passing when you were studying for your nursing exams. You had made a stack of notecards at least three feet tall, and he spent weeks quizzing you. In-ho had always had a good memory and was usually able to pick out pieces relating to the disease, but for some reason, he couldn’t remember anything relating to cirrhosis.

“What, what does this mean?” In-ho said, panic exuding through his voice.

“I’d like to talk further when your wife wakes up, it’s best if we discuss with the patient and the patient’s family there.”

In-ho wanted to was rush over and hit this doctor until he told him everything he wanted to know, but his priorities were still on you. He had to conserve his energy, and arguing with the doctor would only take more energy than he had to waste. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, she’s right this way.” This doctor said nothing about the blood In-ho was leaving on the floor. He had been doing this a lot longer than the other one and knew that stitches were the least important thing in In-ho’s mind at this point.

You were lying in the bed, still unconscious from surgery. “We were able to go in laparoscopically, meaning that we put a tube down her throat and operated from there.”

In-ho didn’t care about what that meant, he just rushed to your side and grabbed one of your hands in both of his. Your hands felt cold and clammy, and he looked to your side to see that there was a blood bag attached to your arm next to another one giving you other fluids.

“Is there anyone we can call for you? You were listed as her emergency contact, so we weren’t sure if you had any family you’d like us to call.” The nurse waiting next to Dr. Park asked. 

In-ho didn’t pause, “Yes, my brother.” He realized that he had left his phone in your apartment in his rush to get you to the hospital. He quickly gave Jun-ho’s number and went back to directing his complete and full attention at you.

In a couple of minutes, the young doctor from before came into the room pushing a small metal cart. “Mr. Hwang, can I quickly treat your foot wounds? You won’t have to leave her side. It’s best to do it now so you won’t have to leave her side later if it gets worse.”

In-ho didn’t move, and the doctor took it as a sign to continue. The younger doctor had clearly been lectured on what best to say to the loved one of an injured person. He painstakingly pulled glass piece after glass piece out of In-ho’s foot, washed each cut carefully, and then stitched up each one. He was in miserable pain, but In-ho didn’t move. It was a small dosage of the punishment he deserved for ignoring your illness.

The doctor silently left after he was finished wrapping the wounds, and In-ho continued the self-inflicted torture he put himself through inside his head.

The door burst open, and Jun-ho rushed inside, a nurse hot on his heels. “Sir, you can’t be in here! It’s not visiting hours.”

“It’s 6:45, visiting hours start in 15 minutes,” Jun-ho said, ignoring her further protests to run forward and kneel next to his brother. “In-ho, are you alright? What happened? They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone.” 

“She’s sick. She’s really sick.” In-ho said. 

Jun-ho’s face was shocked. “What are you talking about? How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know. I- I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it could be this.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “she had to have surgery. She started…” In-ho shuddered, “she started throwing up blood earlier this morning, and I had to drive her to the hospital.”

Jun-ho didn’t know what to do, or say. His brother was glued to your side, so he couldn’t hug him. They had been through something slightly similar when Jun-ho was 8 and their father had died, but past it both being sick family members, everything else was different. In-ho was 20 when their dad died, and he was the one comforting Jun-ho. Now it was Jun-ho’s turn, and he had no idea how to do it. 

This was his wife. The reason In-ho got out of bed in the morning; you were his entire life. Your wedding date was his passcode, and his lock screen was you on the day you graduated nursing school.

“In-ho, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Do they know what it is?”

In-ho squeezed your hand tighter, “I don’t know the details, but it’s something with her liver. It’s… It’s bad Jun-ho.”

There was nothing else for Jun-ho to say. No band-aid that could fix it, not call to anyone to change it. He sat down next to his brother, and like In-ho, waited.

It was only a couple of hours before you woke up, dazed and blinking slowly. Your eyes immediately moved towards the man holding your hand, “In-ho?”

Your voice hurt to speak, it felt like there were rusty nails in your windpipe.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” In-ho surged toward you, beginning to stroke your hair with his hand.

“What- what happened?” You saw In-ho’s brother push a button next to your bed.

“What do you remember?” He said, slowly and soothingly.

“I remember feeling sick, and getting up to throw up, and- and that’s it.” You said, blinking in confusion.

In-ho looked like he started to say something before a doctor and a nurse walked into the room, both of them being people you had worked with before. Dr. Park was the nicest doctor in the hospital you thought. He was a man of few words and never sugarcoated anything, but he always took care of his patients' needs. The nurse was a new hire, she was one that you always covered for, and there was a strange expression on her face.

“Ms. Hwang, I’m glad you're awake.” He said, pulling a stool forward that had been in the corner of the room. 

“My husband was just about to tell me what happened.” You said, still confused at what was happening.  You looked up at In-ho, and there was a look of sheer terror on his face, confusing you even further. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

He did his best to wipe that look off his face, but it didn’t really work, “nothing, I just want to hear what the doctor has to say.”

Dr. Park took a deep breath, before explaining something that would change your life forever. “Ms. Hwang, your husband brought you in early this morning after you threw up blood. He told us that you had been having some odd symptoms, and frankly, some of the staff were able to recount some for me as well. We did some blood work, and noticed some unusual things.” You held your breath. “The first thing we noticed, was that you tested positive for Hepatitis C, do you have any knowledge of this?”

You and In-ho were both shocked, “no, I- I had no idea.” 

Dr. Park sighed again, a sound that was quickly becoming foreboding, “Do you have any past use of drugs, any knowledge of any family members carrying the virus, or any contact with used needles.”

And then it hit you, “Yes. When I was in my first month as a nurse I got stuck with a used needle. My boss- my boss told me that it happened to everyone at some time or another and that we were busy and had to move on.” 

In-ho looked at you horrified, “Honey, what does the disease do?” He whispered, addressing you and not the doctor.

But Dr. Park cut in, “It’s a virus that can go away on its own, but other times it can stay in the body symptom-free for decades before showing harmful symptoms. It’s unlikely to be transmitted through sex, but you should get tested as well.”

While the doctor was speaking, the pieces connected in your head. Hepatitis C, vomiting up blood, the symptoms you thought were nothing. “My liver is failing, isn’t it.”

The four other people in the room turned to you. The look on In-ho’s face killed you, so you had to look away and move your glance to Dr. Park.

He stared you in the eyes, and said, “Yes, it is.”

I'm taking a break from the series, I'll probably write part three after my next fic!

Tags: @bigdaddddyyyyy @kimeungun114 @eviesmoon @jspidey5 @kyl13sm1l3y @watasinekoru @starkeyszn @multifandomgirllol @annasnape7 @sylviavf @foulbreadpaenut @unaaasz @vrystalius @ultimate-simp-10

[m-ayo-o]

call me !

ft. 21+ bf Toge Inumaki

Thinking of 21+ Toge Inumaki who calls you up at work just to make you...

"come"

Not here, no no no no--

Your body struggles to resist his power, but after a few seconds you're squirming in your office chair.

Bringing your hand to cover your flushed face, you start telling him that it's not funny and that his lunch break check ups were really sweet..

Until this started.

It's not as if you two can talk much anyway, it's just nice to hear him on the other side of the phone; even his breath, or his laugh.

But when he gets into this mischievous mood you know he won't stop.

"Toge, I'm hanging up I have to--"

"stay on the phone"

"Ah- Toge--!!!" You scream, alerting your co-workers who start looking over their desks.

"Toge.." you shout whisper, cupping the phone to your face, "you can't keep me on the phone all day- I have to work!!"

You hear him giggling from the other side, making you wonder what the hell he's planning next.

"go to the bathroom"

For fuck's sake.

You groan and your body gets up by itself, taking you to a private bathroom stall where your arm rises and opens the door.

Having your body move like this was very unusual the first few times, but you're getting used to the feeling of being completely controlled, and realistically you do trust him.

"lock the door"

You can't help but think he's wasting his power, messing with you like this.

"touch yourself"

"Toge..."

Your face heats up immediately as your free hand starts roaming around your body, undoing your blouse, feeling under your bra.

It's like he's actually here, touching you himself.

"touch your clit"

"ah.. Toge.."

He wants you to feel it.

Making you come on command is fun and all, but it's over so quickly and he really loves to build you up.

He wishes he could tell you so many things.

But right now he would love to tell you what a good girl you are and that he's imagining how pretty you look.

And with your skirt pushed up and your blouse undone, looking all hot and bothered.. he isn't wrong.

"take a picture of yourself"

"Oh~ Toge.. really?" You're moaning and complaining about the matter but you've already opened the camera on your phone.

Your finger presses the screen and a series of cute, filthy pictures are taken. Between your hand down your panties, rubbing yourself, and your boobs spilling out of your top, you do make a very pretty picture.

He doesn't have to tell you the next part.

You send them to him immediately and hear him moan from the other side.

"Ohh.." fuck, he wishes he could thank you for those.

But instead he just pushes his hands down his shorts and starts stroking himself.

You can hear him starting to breathe heavier and you know exactly what he's doing.

"Toge.. I.. have to.. get back t--"

"Uuhh.." another moan comes through the phone and you know you're staying on the line till you're both done.

You know what he wants.

"Toge.. will you help me come?"

You can hear his breathy panting from the other side but not a word in a reply.

But he's focusing on your voice, the way you're whimpering his name, the shortness of your breath. The precum is just dripping out of him at the sight of your pictures and he needs to hear you a little more.

"Toge.. I wanna come.. now.." your finger is circling around your wet clit, just like you would do if you were alone. But you haven't been alone in so long, having such an attentive partner as Toge. He would never let you do this by yourself normally. And now you're here, locked in the bathroom at work, fingering yourself weakly, you're having trouble.

"Toge.. I need.. help.."

You admit, you sound pathetic.

But it's getting him harder.

"Ugh.." you hear him grunt and he's biting his lip on the other side, gripping his phone to his ear so he can hear your every breath.

He needs more, though.

"beg"

Your thighs start trembling now, your head rushes with the feeling of his power, once again, and your mouth opens automatically-

"Please.. please let me, let me come, Toge?" you plead down the phone, afraid that any second the bathroom door could open and one of your hapless colleagues could walk into you whimpering to yourself.

"Toge.. I'm begging, please, please tell me to come..."

The embarrassment overwhelms you with the words spilling out of your mouth, but he has got exactly what he wanted.

Oh, how he wishes he could stroke your hair and give you a kiss for begging him so nicely.

But instead he will reward you with pleasure.

"come"

"I-- ahh-- Toge.. th- thank you.."

Your relieved and happy moans take him over the edge, as he gets his own release, sighing down the phone as he finishes with a grin on his face.

A few seconds pass as you both catch your breath and regain your senses.

"Toge, you're a menace," you roll your eyes, buttoning up your shirt and pulling your skirt back into place.

You laugh together over the phone and you hang up, getting a text shortly after-

see you later for round two ^^

toge

[zerocoded]

summary: headcannons of what caleb is like in bed.

authors note: help me i need him chronically. this is my opinion babes! i can't shut my brain off when it comes to him anymore. waiting for the 22nd to come is like waiting for my husband get back from war. everything here is what i read about his character so far, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: nsfw content • minors dni • SMUT • talks about size kink, teasing, fingering with his prosthetic bla bla, idk what else. A LOT. • this is basically word vomit, i'm sorry.

word count: 1.2k

caleb might be more conscious of his touch, especially with his bionic arm, carefully adjusting his strength to ensure comfort and gentleness.

i KNOW bro can’t keep his grunts down, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

he wants to consume you entirely, like occupy your every thought and feeling when getting intimate with you.

he’s a sucker for your reactions, so attentive to the point it makes you shy.

ALSO he’s so big—like everything about him is just massive. we know that already, right? sometimes HE forgets.

i just got a feeling that caleb's bed is enormous, like king-size for real, made for someone his size. like BIG BIG. because he's a big boy.

he kind of doesn’t fully grasp how strong he is or how big he is compared to you, like the first time he closed his hands around your throat, he gave you whiplash.

everything in his apartment is set high to accommodate him, and you struggle with it constantly.

his frame completely consumes you, overwhelming but in a way that feels safe.

one time, tara walked in on the two of you mid-moment, she was sleeping on your apartment for some reason and caleb came from the farspace fleet really missing you. she asked caleb where you were, and he just casually said "here," while tara bolted out, flustered beyond belief when she realized what was going on.

you were literally UNDER him and to anyone passing, it looked like he was alone lol.

you two have little banter all the time, thanks to growing up together as childhood friends.

tell me i'm not getting too ahead of time, but i gotta say this. when you’re pregnant, caleb has this habit of saying “shush, i’m talking to the baby” every time he rests his head on your belly.

THAT'S SO CUTE, RIGHT? URGH.

he loves being in control – not in a domineering way, but because he wants to make sure you feel completely taken care of. he’s meticulous, learning what you like and pushing those boundaries just enough to drive you wild.

his size is an obsession for him – he’s hyperaware of how much bigger he is compared to you, and he uses it to his advantage. holding your wrists in one hand, pinning you beneath him, or just the way his body completely overshadows yours—it gets him going every time.

he’s vocal, but only for you – low grunts, whispered praise, and occasionally losing control with a deep growl when you hit just the right spot. but he’s also hyperaware of how you react, loving every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.

a possessive streak – he doesn’t say it outright, but the way his hands grip your hips or how he marks your skin with kisses is all about claiming you. his touch lingers, even when you’re just walking around afterward.

obsessed with eye contact – he insists you look at him, especially in your most vulnerable moments. “keep your eyes on me,” he murmurs, his gaze locking you in place as if the world outside the two of you doesn’t exist.

an absolute tease – he loves winding you up, taking his time until you’re begging him to stop playing around. slow kisses down your neck, feather-light touches that leave you trembling—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

his hands – they’re huge and rough, but his touch is incredibly gentle when he wants it to be. he loves how your body reacts to the contrast, and he uses it to his full advantage, whether he’s tracing your spine or gripping your thighs.

THE BIONIC ARM? OH MY GAWD.

he really hates the fact that he can't feel you - at all. but his prosthetic can come in handy sometimes 😏

he could use his arm’s advanced capabilities, like adjustable pressure or vibration, to focus on your pleasure, experimenting with new sensations. GUYS I HAD TO SAY IT.

i just know he teases you gliding the cool metal over warm, flushed skin and eliciting shivers of delight.

not him using it like your own personal vibrator. turning on subtle vibrations during a kiss or when he's fingering you.

he LOVES to explore areas like the neck, back, or thighs, using varying pressures to heighten your sensitivity.

aftercare king – he’s all about making sure you feel safe and comfortable afterward.

he’s a little shy about certain things – despite his confidence, there are moments when he feels self-conscious, like when you run your fingers along the scars on his body. but your touch soothes him, and he grows to crave the intimacy of being vulnerable with you. again, his prothetic can become a insecurity of him on these times.

unexpectedly playful – he likes to keep things fun, especially when the mood is light. sneaky touches, biting your ear just to hear you squeak, or pulling you onto his lap when you least expect it.

easily undone by you taking control – as much as he loves being in charge, when you take the lead, he absolutely melts. seeing you confident and assertive makes him lose every ounce of his composure. I JUST KNOW HE LOVES IT.

praise kink on both sides – he loves telling you how good you’re being, how beautiful you are, and how perfect you feel. but he’s also weak for your praise—if you tell him how much you want him or how amazing he’s making you feel, it’s game over.

a sucker for your scent – burying his face in your neck or your hair is his favorite thing. he associates your scent with safety and home, and it’s an instant comfort for him, even when things heat up. i just know he missed you so much while he was gone.

light experimentation – he’s always willing to try new things if it means making you happy. he might be cautious at first, but your enthusiasm has a way of bringing out his adventurous side.

he’s an absolute wreck for soft moments – when you’re tender and loving, gently tracing his features or whispering sweet things, it undoes him completely. he’s all about intensity, but those quiet, intimate moments leave him weak in the knees.

he’s competitive – if you ever tease him or play hard to get, he rises to the challenge, determined to win you over every single time. and when he does, he’ll make sure you know it.

obsessed with your reactions – he watches your every move, cataloging the way your body arches, the sounds you make, and the way your breath catches. nothing escapes his attention, and he uses that knowledge to drive you to the brink.

neck kisses – his favorite spot to tease and mark. he loves the way you shiver when his lips brush over that sensitive spot just below your ear.

secretly loves when you’re a little rough – tugging on his hair, biting his shoulder, or leaving marks on his skin? he thrives on the proof of how much you want him. it’s like a badge of honor for him.

he’s insanely attentive to detail – he remembers everything you like, from the way you gasp when he kisses your collarbone to how your breathing changes when you’re close. he uses that knowledge to make sure you’re always completely satisfied.

i need to write about him loving us ASAP, bye.

author's note: i came up with these while trying to write for caleb's love language (the thrid chapter) and i thought i could use it as a solo post hehe. see you guys next! send me a request • my masterpost

[seungfl0wer]

*Daddy Jisung*

Daddy Series:

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut:

-💜

•He’s such a big softy.

•It doesn’t take much of anything to persuade him.

•But that goes both ways.

•He tries to act all big and tough.

•His favorite thing to do is tightening jars so you have to ask him to open them.

•He just finds it so cute when your eyes almost light up at ‘how strong he is’.

•He’s definitely not afraid of you calling him daddy in public either.

•He use to get all flustered when you did but now.

•It just melts him almost.

•He loves makings forts with you too.

•All the stuffies, blankets and snacks all under a fort to snuggle and watch movies.

•He has so many pictures and videos of you being adorable.

•Loves the candid ones where you’re focused or just doing mundane things.

•There’s so many times where he comes home.

•Lays his head on your lap and just stares up at you with all the love in his eyes.

•He’s such a big clinger too. He just wants to constantly cuddle you or hold your hand.

•It’s like trying to separate magnets.

•He’s not super good at putting his thoughts into words so he likes making you songs.

•Has a whole mixtape of songs just for you.

•He also likes pushing your buttons just so he can see that little pout of yours.

•”Awe I’m sorry baby, but you just look adorable when you’re annoyed”

•Whenever you give him attitude it can go one of two ways.

•70% of the times it’s hip telling you to stop.

•He only gives you a few warnings before he’s really scolding you.

•”Baby, you know how to act. And this isn’t it. You know better”

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•So the other way he likes to fix your attitude is grabbing his favorite pair of handcuffs.

•Getting you restrained and edging you till you’re apologizing like a good girl.

•He’ll build you up to so many orgasms before pulling himself away from you.

•He also enjoys just having you restrained and jerking himself off.

•This might be one of the worst ones cause he’s letting out such pretty noises and you can’t do a damn thing about it.

•Head. Receiving. Or giving.

•I fully believe he comes home on bad days and wants nothing more than to have you sitting on his face.

•He’s very needy. He’s like a dog in heat half the time.

•Rounds after rounds.

•He’s a sucker for you riding him though.

•To see your beautiful body over him bouncing in his cock.

•Super vocal.

•Talks nonstop when he’s not making noises.

•”Baby daddy just needs to taste you.”

•”Fuck baby, so messy just how I like”

•”Daddy just needs you, needs you so bad”

•”You were just giving me attitude and now you want me to let you cum? Gotta beg harder”

•Oh and remember how I said he likes taking pictures of you?

•Yeah he has a whole folder of videos and pictures that he uses while he’s away.

•Aftercare is a lot of soft talking.

•You constantly have to reassure him he didn’t hurt you.

•He can get a little emotional after a strong session.

•Scared he might have done something.

•He just loves you so absolutely much that the thought of that crushes him.

•You both always end up cuddling so close together.

•And he really loves cuddling being inside you. Sometimes it’s not even sexual.

•Just being connected like that feels the best.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143

[xxepherr]

.ೃ࿐JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | FC43

summary — in which franco’s just been thrown into the glamorous world of formula 1, and as his slightly jealous partner, you don’t take all the people flirting with him too lightly

pairings — franco colapinto x princess!reader (established relationship)

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2090

note — i have another princess! reader thats been in the drafts for like two months but this one lowkey wins

YOU WEREN’T NECESSARILY THE jealous type. there were sprinkles of it growing up: jealous of those who had a normal life, jealous of the other kids who got to do whatever they wanted, and jealous of how no one seemed to want to hang out with you because you couldn’t really bring much to the table. 

you had a good life and a good upbringing, but you never really understood any of it until you were midway through your teenage years. that’s when the weight of being in a royal family hit. but even then, and still now, why did it matter so much when your older brother was the crown prince anyway? and how his eventual children would be in line for the throne before you? 

you weren’t jealous of that at least, despite only having turned twenty-one this year, you didn’t want the throne at all. you wanted to go do things, see things, not have more responsibilities held over your head. that was the life your brother wanted, a life he was already accepting; it certainly wasn’t for you.

meeting franco colapinto for the first time at thirteen was probably the reason your whole trajectory changed. he was so carefree, happy, free to do as he pleased — you couldn't do that. you couldn’t remember why you had ended up at some karting championship in copenhagen now, but you were glad you did. you met him there, talked to him there, and he embarrassed himself with not knowing how to greet you there. you’d giggled, telling him he didn’t actually have to greet you with a bow like how they do it in the movies, and that was that.

you’d met him again at fifteen, and he hadn’t exactly learnt from his past mistakes . . . not that you minded. uttering a “i did some research” with a cheeky wink and a kiss to the back of your hand, your face had flushed a pink so bright that it had your mother thinking you’d come down with a sudden fever. it was sweet, he’d slipped you his email on a small tear-off bit of paper that he had prepared ahead of time, and you’d replied with the number that directed to the landline beside your bedside table. six months later, you were dating. 

YOU considered that maybe there was a little bit of jealousy bubbling up in your stomach when franco got his seat in formula one. you were so excited that he had finally achieved his dream that you’d turned the cottage you lived in together into a mini celebration: you made breakfast with a side of wine, then hopped on a plane to buenos aires so that he could go see his family about it. 

the one thing you had not expected was just how much he would be loved in the sport . . . by teenage girls. and girls your age. and journalists. and literally anyone who thought he was attractive. he had personality and was so much fun to talk to, but oh my god you did not think that the whole of the internet would start livetweeting about how they wanted to fuck him. 

in all fairness, they didn’t know about the two of you. it was fairly easy to hide when they had such a secluded cottage on royal grounds. your relationship was coming into its seventh year soon, you’d gotten engaged in january, and somehow it was still a secret with how much you two were public figures. 

it had been a few races too many now, and if anything, it had only gotten worse. maybe you were jealous because you hadn’t seen franco since he left for singapore, and the mexican grand prix had just ended. the only thing stopping you from going to instagram and posting a shit ton of photos and videos of you and franco together was the fact that you had just landed in brazil to see him now that you weren’t busy. 

you’d gotten good at the whole lowkey thing after years laying low as a royal trying to go out on dates with franco. all you had to do was toss on one of franco’s hoodies, pull the hood up over your head, and make sure you walked inconspicuously on your own. the bodyguards you had to have with you all dressed super casually also and trailed behind and in front a reasonable distance away until you were outside the airport and loading your bags into the back of a range rover. 

you dropped the hood the second you hopped into the backseat of the car, immediately launching yourself at your fiancé before the door was shut. franco laughed as he peppered delicate kisses across your face, each one more frantic than the last like you would disappear if he were to let go. you vaguely heard the door shut with thanks to the bodyguard walking around to the front seat of the car, and you made a mental note to thank him the moment you were all caught up with franco. “i missed you,” his tone was heavily accented in that voice that you loved so much, that voice that sounded so much better in person than it did in terrible quality over the phone.

“missed you more,” you mumbled softly, breathing in the subtle note of vanilla from his soap underneath the familiar cologne he always wore. you knew that the sooner you fastened your seatbelt, the faster you’d be driven to the hotel, so you hastily clipped it across you and snuggled back into franco’s side. “we are having words when we get out of this car,” you mumbled.

franco’s eyebrows furrowed, “we are?” he asked, and he felt you nod against his side. “right, we are.”

IT WAS NICE TO feel normal again. being with franco equalled feeling like you were a completely other person. you kept him separate and would be until you were married — he obviously didn’t accompany you to family events or royal appearances because you’d worked a deal out with your parents years ago to keep things private just until you were absolutely sure you were spending your life with him. his first public appearance would be your january wedding under glittering snowflakes. 

you were ready to break normal. the feeling had been crawling under your skin for months now, ever since he was called overnight out to italy and kickstarted his new career in being an international heartthrob who everyone was convinced was a playboy bachelor. he was nothing of the sort when he was currently cuddling into your side in his hotel room, half-asleep and trailing his fingertips up and down your thigh. 

“i don’t like seeing what people say about you online, you know,” you dared to finally bring up, months of jealousy trying to break free in your tone. franco could hear remnants of it clear as day, even in his tired state. “i can’t even say anything.”

he knew you weren’t dependent on your phone, it was only ever when he was away that you constantly had it on you to call, text and check F1 updates on twitter. at this point, the whole reason you had a phone was for him. of course you were in tune with what people were saying about him online. did you enjoy watching the tiktok edits people made? yes. that did not help your case in the slightest, though. “aw, baby,” he hummed, “what would you say?”

“that you’re my fiancé,” the label was still so new, so warm across your tongue. franco’s smile was immediate at the sound of it. “not theirs.”

“aw,” he cooed, “is someone a little jealous?” you groaned instantly, moving to push away from him. franco quickly sprung like some kind of trap, suddenly so awake as he wrapped his strong arms around you to hold you in place. “you are!” he laughed. “you are jealous!”

“. . . maybe,” you admitted, caving a little quicker than you liked. “it is hard not to be, no? look at all the attention you get from everyone else while i sit at home and have to watch.”

it had always been a difficult situation, he experienced the same jealousy on occasion, too. whenever you’d go to events with your family and were greeted by other nobles close in age to you or you were overly polite at fundraisers and celebrations, he saw it all when he turned on the tv or simply went online. it was so simple: your relationship wasn’t public – really, it was your own collective fault.

“we won’t have to deal with this for much longer,” he mumbled, and you felt each exhale brush through your hair; a soothing lullaby for you only. “january isn’t too far—”

“i don’t want to wait,” the words tumbled from your lips before you could even think about them. “i know we talked about it . . . but what if we just— just, i don’t know,” you stuttered uncharacteristically, shyly. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this way. “i don’t know.”

“you do,” franco kept his voice low, a gentle murmur that had you melting into his embrace impossibly further. “talk to me.”

your mouth fell open and then closed, then did it once more. you supposed it couldn’t be anymore embarrassing than that one time you had to admit that you liked him in front of four middle-aged bodyguards in a playground. that had been bad. this should be nothing. “i don’t want to hide anymore.” franco remained silent. “i want to hold your hand like . . . like how lily and alex get to,” it was the first example to come to mind, having seen them through lily’s account on instagram last grand prix. “but,” you quickly added, “if you don’t want to—”

“of course i want to,” franco chuckled to himself, “i wanted the privacy for you more than i wanted it for me.” he admitted it in a way that you knew wasn’t meant to make you feel guilty, but you couldn’t really help but feel your heart sink a little in your chest. 

franco could feel the sudden drop, your souls intertwined long ago. “. . . that sounded terrible, i know,” he poked his fingers into your side, pulling gasped giggles from you. “but you’re technically more famous than i am,” there was subtle tease in his tone among the seriousness, “i wanted what was best for you, you know that.”

“mhm,” you hummed in thought, tapping your fingers against his. “i just don’t think i can wait anymore. i want to watch you in person, especially while you are at williams now. i don’t want to miss it.” you were his second biggest fan behind his family, and who knows when he would get the chance to drive a formula one car again? if you missed this now, you’d never forgive yourself for it. 

“okay,” he nodded, very chill about the whole thing. it wasn’t surprising, you knew he didn’t mind in the slightest. exposing your relationship just meant that he got to show you off to the world as if he were the luckiest man alive. showing you off to his close friends and family wasn’t enough anymore, and here you were giving him the chance. “how do you want to do this?”

the one thing you sadly couldn’t do was just show up with him when he was at the track. you sadly had to have at least two people with you for protection as your parents wished, and so more arrangements would have to be made and it would be a whole bigger deal than it should be. 

“hm . . .” you thought, trailing off as your hand slowly inched towards where your phone was sitting on the bedside table. “i have an idea.”

“can you do it later?” franco asked with a tired smile, sitting up to pull the blankets over the two of you and settling his neck to rest against your neck. “i want your attention now.”

“mhm, my love,” you turned your head to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head, his soft curls tickling your lips. “get some sleep, i love you.”

“i love you more,” his voice reverberated against your skin, rumbling through into your chest. “so, so much more . . .” he trailed off into slow breathing, falling into an instantaneous sleep — the sleep he only managed to get when you were tucked safely into his side.

princessofdenmark: can u guys pls stop hitting on my fiancé now

[7ndipity]

“Wakeup Call”

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi wakes you up with his tongue technology. That's it, that's the tweet.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Smut, 18+ mdni, light somnophilia, oral(f.receiving), teeny bit of orgasm denial, unprotected sex(don’t do this pls), not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I’m soo sorry it took me this long to get to, I hope you’ll still like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You let out a deep sigh as you climbed into bed, ignoring the fact that the clock said it wasn’t even nine thirty yet. It’d been a long day, a long week, and all you wanted was to curl up in bed and forget about everything. Ideally accompanied by your incredibly sweet and hot boyfriend, but he was busy being a musical genius holed up in his studio. He’d apologized for having to work late, promising to make it up to you and that he’d be there when you woke in the morning, in the meantime, you had contented yourself with spending the evening on your own. 

It hadn’t been a bad evening by any means, you’d turned it into a mini self-care night, taking a long shower, using your favorite skincare products, watching your favorite show while you ate dinner, but you’d had the recurring thought of how much nicer it would’ve been with Yoongi there with you. You could almost hear his commentary on the show, complaining about how the lead character was being really oblivious to the plot foreshadowing. You’d imagined the way he would’ve absentmindedly traced his hands over you as the two of you had talked, sneaking little sniffs of your hair when he thought you weren’t paying attention, claiming innocently he just liked your shampoo when you caught him.

You curled up on his side of the bed, hugging his pillow close to your chest, allowing his scent to fill your senses as you gratefully drifted off to sleep.

As you fell deeper under the comforting weight of sleep, Yoongi took the starring role in your dreams, continuing your earlier thoughts of what the two of you would be doing if he was there with you…

His lips trailing along your jaw and neck so soft and teasing, his hands snaking under the covers, ghosting along your curves as you squirmed in need for him, his touch igniting a fire deep in your belly and stirring the growing ache between your thighs…

“Yoongi.” You breathed out, craving, needing more.

“Patience, baby.” He warned you, trailing lower to tease your aching core with his mouth, letting his warm breath brush over you before pressing a teasing kiss to your mound, making your hips twitch up with sensitivity. “I’m just getting started with you…”

Before you could say anything else, he dove in, burying his face in your needy cunt, lapping you up in a way that instantly had your back arching off the bed…

“Hhng, Yoongi.” You whined, eyes still closed, slowly coming back to the surface, but clinging to the remnants of your dream. You could almost feel his hands still caressing along the curves of your thighs, spreading them wider, his steady breaths on your skin.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, I’m here…” The low rasp of his voice sent a tiny shockwave through your system, forcing your eyes open to focus on the figure laying between your knees, looking every bit like a wet dream come to life. More specifically, yours.

“Y-yoongi?” You breathed in disbelief, shaking free of the last clinging remnants of sleep.

“I told you I’d be here when you woke up, I just got a little impatient for the you waking up part.” He mumbled, caressing your thighs before dipping his face down again, licking a long stripe between your slick folds.

“Ah!” You whined involuntarily, head falling back against the pillows, your hips twitching up against his face.

He hooked one arm around your thigh to hold you still while he settled more comfortably on the bed between your legs, greedily drinking you in, his tongue dipping to probe teasingly against your weeping entrance.

“Mmm, soo wet and needy already,” He hummed, moving back up to suck lightly on your clit, earning a whine from you. “What got you so worked up, hmm?”

“Y-you.” You staggered out, finding it increasingly difficult to form coherent sentences. “Fell asleep t-thinking about you, dreamt you were here…” Your last words were choked off by another moan as he flicked his tongue over your clit, making your brain go even fuzzier.

“Yeah? What was I doing in your dream?” He asked in low rumble, glancing up at you, his dark eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light of you room

“T-this.” You panted, your voice thinning out as he messily made out with your cunt. Y-you, doing t-this.”

“Mmm.” He hummed against you. “Better make sure your dream has a good ending then.” He sped up his ministrations, eating you like a man starved, grinding his own hips thoughtlessly against the mattress.

You could feel your high fast approaching, your walls clenching and fluttering around nothing, teetering right on the precipice, when suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you sliding backwards away from release.

“Wha-? Yoongi!” You nearly cried, chest heaving with every unsteady breath.

“Hmm?” He looked up at you with feigned ignorance. “I’m sorry, did you wanna cum?”

“Yoongi, please!” You whimpered, squirming as he climbed back up your body, looking down at you with dark eyes as he cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb gently, letting his hips press against you tantalizingly, but not moving further.

“You want it?” He leaned in, kissing you slowly, deliberately, letting you taste yourself on his lips for a moment before drawing away, brushing his lips against yours. “Then beg for it.”

“Yoongi.” You whined, bucking up against him, but he wasn’t budging.

“You can do it, baby, c’mon.” He stared down at you hungrily, wanting, needing to hear your sweet pleas, needing to hear how badly you needed him. “I’ll give whatever you want, but you’ve gotta ask nicely.”

“P-please,” You were nearly in tears, his hands trailing over your body making you shiver, touching you everywhere except where you needed him the most. “Please, Yoongi, need you so bad. Please.”

“Good girl.” He claimed your mouth again, grinding his hips against yours needily, letting you feel just how badly he needed you as well.

He roughly spread your legs wider, giving him space to reach down and line up his aching length with your entrance, growing increasingly impatient to finally be inside you.

“Fuck.” A low groan ripped from his throat as he slipped inside you, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warm, wet walls hugging him tightly.

You let out a weak noise as well, the sudden stretch making your head spin as you pulled him down into another messy kiss.

Once you gave him the go ahead, he didn’t hold back, drawing his hips back and snapping back into you hard, setting a pace that had you crying out as you clung to him.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” He grunted, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to keep his last string of composure, the feeling of you squeezing him so perfectly threatened to make him blow before he had even had a chance to feel you properly.

You were no better off, feeling your denied release quickly approaching again, the coil winding tight even faster this time, threatening to snap at any moment.

“Yoongi, I-” You tried to speak, but your words kept getting lost in your whines and moans as he pounded into you like there was no tomorrow. 

“C’mon baby, let me have it.” He groaned, reaching down and rubbing your clit furiously, desperate to feel you come undone around him.

Your hips bucked and jolted as if he touched you with a livewire, the pressure too much to bear. Just a few more thrusts from him were enough to send you toppling over the edge, letting out a choked moan of his name as your vision went white, digging your nails into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, not that either of you noticed.

Feeling you clench and spasm around him snapped the last of Yoongi’s restraint, his movements becoming sloppy and frantic as he thrusted into you a few more times before he came with a low, drawn out groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he shook with the intensity of his orgasm.

 For a long moment, neither of you moved, pressed close together, the only sound in the room your shaky breaths.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly after a minute, lifting his head to look at you, studying you with his usual sweet concern. 

You nodded, still slightly dazed and out of breath. “Y-yeah, ‘m great.” You assured him.

He carefully shifted off of you, pulling you with him so that you were laid against his chest instead, allowing him to hold you close, stroking your hair slowly as you both came down.

After a few minutes, you let out a quiet laugh.

“You know, when you said you’d be here in the morning, I didn’t expect that kind of wakeup call.” You teased, grinning up at him.

“Are you complaining about my methods?” He replied wryly.

“No! No, fuck no.” You said quickly, nuzzling closer to him and making him chuckle.

“Alright, just checking, you know I can’t stand unsatisfied customers.” He grinned.

“Trust me, I’m very satisfied.” I hummed. “I might even ask for another wakeup call in a few hours.”

“Can’t wait.” He chuckled, holding you close as you both slowly drifted off, the first hints of sunlight just barely peeking through the curtains. 

The perfect start to a sleepy weekend, with no intention of leaving the bed…

Taglist: Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

[killiaia]

MINE

A little something for you guys.

Rosé x male reader.

"Thanks again for coming, girls. " Says Minhyuk. 

"No problem, it's our pleasure! "Replies Jisoo. "Plus we get to see Y/N Oppa" "

" And then Rosé unnie gets to see her boyfriend. "Teases Lisa.

Rosé blushes but can't get the goofy grin off her face. It's been several months since you've seen each other, you with your missions and Rosé with her concerts. A few weeks ago, Minhyuk, one of your soldiers, suggested that Blackpink come and play at your barracks. Naturally, the girls jumped at the chance. 

""Y/N will arrive during the concert. He's not back yet and will have to report in as soon as he arrives. "

"Is he all right? " Rosé asked with a hint of concern in her voice.

"Yes, he's fine. The mission went very well, Rosé. "Minhyuk reassures her.

Rosé lets out a sigh of relief. When you're away, Rosé doesn't hear much about you, and that's what worries her most. She's always afraid of receiving a message announcing your death. 

"I'll let you get changed. I'll be waiting for you on stage. "says Minhyuk.

The girls thank him and start changing. They rehearse a few notes and after checking everything, the girls go on stage.

Minhyuk announces the girls and the curtain rises. The soldiers howl with delight and the girls begin to sing. The atmosphere is electric, the soldiers are so happy to see Blackpink. 

You arrive after several songs and Rosé notices you right away. You wink at her and see Rosé start to dance. You laugh and encourage her.

"COME ON ROSIE! " you shout.

Encouraged by your shouts, Rosé begins to dance sensually, to the delight of the soldiers. Mouth wide open, you watch your girlfriend dance to the shouts of your soldiers. You want to shout something, but a voice next to you interrupts you. 

Rosé sees you talking to a female soldier. She sees you laughing with her and the woman even whispers something in your ear that makes you smile.

"Unnie's jealous. " Lisa says, coming up behind Rosé.

Rosé refocuses on the dance but doesn't take her eyes off you. Yes, Rosé's jealous - she's never hidden it, on the contrary. It's not something that bothers you. Rosé used to be jealous of her members, especially Jennie. So to see you laughing with someone else, and especially with a woman she doesn't know, Rosé can't hide her jealousy. It's written all over her face that she's jealous. Jisoo gives her a pat on the bottom, telling her to concentrate. 

Rosé can't do it. Seeing you having fun with another girl drives her crazy. You've been talking to the female soldier for several minutes now and you haven't looked at Rosé once. Rosé's jealousy explodes when the woman places a kiss on your cheek before leaving.

Rosé sees red and when you finally turn to her, you immediately notice her face. You know this girl too well. You know how to defuse the situation.

" I love you." You mime.

You can clearly see the shock on Rosé's face. You also see a goofy smile settle on the singer's face.

"I love you too. " Mimes Rosé in return.

The girls sing their last song and the curtain closes. The soldiers cheer the girls and you yell at them to go back to their rooms.

Rosé and the girls return to their dressing room, happy with their performance. Still, Rosé can't get the image of the kiss out of her mind. 

"It was only a kiss on the cheek. "Jennie replies, as if she's a mind reader.

Rosé says nothing and sits down on the sofa. Someone knocks and Rosé hopes it's you, but it's only Minhyuk.

"Thanks again, girls! You guys are great. " says Minhyuk.

"You're welcome. " Replies Jisoo 

"Tell me Minhyuk, who was that girl with. Y/N? " Asks Rosé.

"And here we go. " Comments Lisa

"Oh that's Lieutenant Somin. "

" And they're close? " " 

" Rosé I'm not sure if I can tell you. "

"  Minhyuk, it's about MY Boyfriend. "

" Yeah yeah... but he'd be the one to tell you, wouldn't he? 

"Minhyuk. Tell me."

 "He's going to kill me. Well... Y/N and Somin have been together for two years. " "

 EXCUSE ME? " Shouts Rosé. "Is that his ex-girlfriend? " "

" I shouldn't have said anything.. " Minhyuk laments.

Rosé can't believe her ears. She's your ex-girlfriend. That means you're working with your ex-girlfriend and you never told her. 

Blackpink members find this very funny. Minhyuk has managed to escape from the dressing room and Lisa sits down next to Rosé.

"You've got no right to be jealous, unnie. You've written songs about your exes. " "

It's not the same! "Rosé defends herself. 

"It's all the same. "Jisoo contradicts.

"Y/N loves you, you have nothing to worry about. "Jennie replies.

"Oh and then show him he belongs to you. Grab Y/N and fuck him. "Lisa says.

Rosé doesn't wait. She stands up suddenly, despite the protests of her group. Rosé doesn't listen and leaves the dressing room. She hears Lisa's laughter and Rosé sets off in search of you. 

She wanders the corridors looking for you. She passes several soldiers who don't dare move. 

"Excuse me, do you know where Y/N is? "Rosé asks a soldier.

"In his room. It's just down the hall. "

" Thank you. "

Rosé starts looking for you again, and when she arrives in front of your room, Rosé opens the door without knocking. You turn around, ready to yell at the person who's just entered, but you're stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Rosé. A goofy smile appears on your face, but it's quickly replaced by a surprised expression. 

Rosé doesn't wait. She gets down on her knees and starts to remove your belt. 

"Rosie? What the hell...."

You can't finish your sentence, Rosé swallows your cock. Rosé doesn't waste a second making your cock hard. The Australian puts her heart into it. The young woman's mouth is divine.

"Oh my god." You moan 

Pleased to see you moan, Rosé continues her oral assault. With one of her hands, Rose caresses your balls. 

You're just a toy. You're Rosé's toy. You want to say something but each time Rosé engulfs your cock in his mouth. You catch yourself on the shelf behind so good it feels. 

You can't string a word together. You try to grab Rosé but the singer pulls your hands away and continues to suck you. You can see that you're not going to be able to do anything, so you might as well enjoy it. You let your girlfriend suck you off. 

"Y/N Oppa, are you there? " says a voice from behind the door. 

You freeze. Somin is behind the door. Rosé pulls your cock out of her mouth and flashes you a smirk. 

"Rosé, no. " You say.

But Rosé doesn't care, she grabs your dick and starts jerking you off. She starts sucking your balls and you bite your tongue to keep from moaning. 

"Oppa, I wanted to talk to you about the next mission. " says Somin.

You notice Rosé's aggressive jerking off. 

"Later Somin. " You reply. 

You hear Somin leave and breathe a sigh of relief. With your hand, you grab Rosé's chin and force her to look at you. 

"You jealous bitch. "

" You never told me she was your ex,"  Rosé replies, sucking your cock.

You want to reply but Rosé licks your tip. Annoyed by her games, you grab her head and push it onto your cock. 

"If you're going to be a jealous slut you might as well enjoy it. "

"Fuck my mouth. "Rosé looks you straight in the eye.

You grab your cock with one hand and Rosé's face with the other. Rosé opens her mouth wide and you insert your cock into the Australian's mouth.

Rosé closes her mouth and you feel her tongue lick your cock. You move your pelvis and hear Rosé gag. Rosé takes matters into her own hands, literally. She grabs your cock with her hands and starts jerking you off as she continues to suck you. 

It's so good. Just yesterday you were on a mission in the middle of nowhere and today you've got Rosé on her knees with your dick in her mouth. Life is good. 

"I'm going to cum. " You warned Rosé. 

"Come in my mouth. "

You grab your cock and start jerking off. Rosé positions her mouth beneath your cock and you're not going to last long. The sight is too good.

After a few strokes, your cum lands in the singer's mouth. You haven't cum in a long time, so several spurts come out of your cock. 

Completely exhausted, you fall off the bed and Rosé swallows your cum.  The young woman stands up and kisses you. You say nothing and Rosé starts to open the door. Before leaving, she turns around and says. 

"I love you, baby. See you tonight. "

You wave vaguely and Rosé says one last thing. 

"Don't forget you're mine. “