#warnings (if any) will be at the top of every piece

[imagineshere-forall]

- the calendar ✰ e. buckley (smut version)

Summary: an unexpected person stars for the 118 in the firefighter calendar  Genre: angst & smut Warnings: smut (quickie at work, oral m receiving, unprotected p in v) & swearing & jealousy  Pairing: evan buckley x fem!reader Word count: 2.6k Note: this is my first ever time writing smut so pls pls be kind (or i’ll cry) but also pls leave constructive criticism, if it is bad i need to know so i can get better.

Due to the strict ‘no fraternisation’ rule at the 118, you and Evan had kept your relationship a secret. There had been a few times where someone had nearly caught the two of you, including Eddie walking into the shower room while you and Buck were sharing one cubicle, but no one had caught on yet. In this scenario, Buck had quickly picked you up, wrapped your legs around his waist and covered your mouth with his hand. 

Everyone had just assumed the two of you were best friends, you guys had lots of inside jokes and were always working out together, and today was no different. All the men were working out extra hard as the firefighter calendar had just been announced and they were all fighting to star.

Last year, Chimney had surprised everyone and had represented the 118 in the calendar, so the competition was on. Today was the last day of submissions, and impulsively you had decided to enter some photos for the calendar. You didn't need to take any new photos as for Buck’s birthday the month before, you had done a sexy photoshoot and periodically sent them to him, printing off a few which he kept in his wallet. 

After the submissions had closed, everyone had been eagerly checking the mail for the calendar delivery as they had decided not to announce who was featuring for each firehouse prior to the release. 

Weeks later, you walked into the fire house and were met with whistles by some of the men who you had not spoken to much. Forgetting you had submitted pictures for the calendar you were confused at the sudden attention you were receiving. 

“Why is everyone being so weird today?” you asked walking up to Hen, who was also looking at you funny.

“You don’t know?” questioned Hen, to which you simply shook your head.

“Good morning, Miss August!” Eddie exclaimed as he saw you appear upstairs. Suddenly the pieces clicked together, you must have been picked for the calendar.

“Miss August? What are you talking about?” Evan looked up, pausing as he poured himself a drink.

“y/n here, was chosen to represent the 118 in the firefighter calendar.” Eddie said as he pulled the calendar off the wall, flicking to August.

Suddenly, you were met with a picture of you on your knees, wearing your fireproof trousers but no top, the suspenders on your trousers over your shoulders, giving you a small bit of modesty. The strips of fabric only just covered your nipples, the outline of piercings visible through the fabric of the suspenders. 

You looked up to Buck whose jaw clenched as he took in the picture before him, which he had seen before, as a copy of it lived behind his driver's license in his wallet. You could see as he tried to regain his composure before deciding what to say next. 

“I, uh, I wasn't aware you had submitted pictures for the calendar?” Buck questioned, his voice wavering as he tried to hide his agitation. Now, Buck was usually not a jealous guy, but seeing that picture of you on display on the wall of the firehouse made him want to drive to every firehouse and rip up all the copies of the calendar that had been printed. 

“Yeah, I did it on the last day of submissions, I didn't think I'd get picked so I just forgot about it,” you smiled as you spoke to Evan. The two of you held eye contact, not paying attention to the rest of the crew bustling around you. “I must admit I was confused with the wolf whistles when I walked in this morning.” 

This sentence triggered Evan’s protectiveness.

“People have been whistling at you? Who? Point them out.” Buck demanded as he walked over to the balcony overlooking the main floor.

“Buck, dude, calm down,” Eddie said as he walked over to Buck “She’s single, and she looks great, of course there’s gonna be some attention.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck. Eddie looked at Buck as he paced, clearly confused by his behaviour.

“Oh y/n, I’ve been meaning to get your help with something, could you come help me?” Buck asked, ignoring the looks Eddie was sending his way.

“Uhh, yeah, just let me drop my bag,” you said as you headed to go put it down.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Buck grabbed your bag and walked to the locker room downstairs and put it in your locker. 

“Buck?” You asked repeatedly as you followed him, getting louder each time until he finally stopped pacing in the locker room. 

“Sorry, it’s just, I don’t like everyone seeing you like that,” Buck whispers as he walks towards you. Thankfully the two of you were in a blindspot to the rest of the firehouse so no one could see as he put his hand up to your face and raised your chin so you were looking into his eyes. “Everyone keeps looking at you, because they think you’re single and I just wish I could tell everyone you’re mine.”

“I’m sorry Buck, I should’ve asked you first,” you whispered.

“No, no, it’s your body and you look great in those photos. I just get a little insecure sometimes,” Buck whispered, fiddling with your fingers as you spoke. 

“I love you Buck.”

“I love you too. Also, I’m going to be having a boner for the entire month of August at work now, so thank you for that.” Buck laughed

“You know, my shift hasn’t officially started, and I was thinking I needed a shower. Plus, jealous Buck is kind of hot.” you said as you pulled Buck towards the showers.

“That's interesting, because I was thinking I needed a shower after that last call,” Buck said as he used his free hand to start unbuttoning his shirt. 

“You definitely do,” You said as you started to unbutton your own shirt. 

Buck’s hands quickly copied yours and raced to unbutton his shirt, as he did he leant forward and harshly attached your lips to his. With your shirt unbuttoned, you placed your hands on Buck’s shoulders, pushing him into the shower cubicle behind the pair of you and easing the shirt off his torso. You and Evan moved in sync as he simultaneously pushed your shirt off your shoulders.

Your feet tangled together as you passionately tumbled into the cubicle. With your lips still locked you reached down and began undoing your belt, Buck quickly following suit. Within seconds, both of your clothing was heaped on the bench, leaving the pair of you in your underwear. 

You reached your hand down between the two of you and you could feel Buck’s hardness through his underwear. You gently palmed him, causing him to groan and lean into you. He very quickly shed his underwear in a desperate effort to feel your skin on his. 

You separated your lips, causing Buck to groan at the loss of contact. Buck’s disappointment was short lived as you began to kiss your way down his neck and his torso. As you dropped to your knees you looked up at Buck who gently stroked your head, beginning to clasp your hair into a ponytail. 

You leant forward and used your hand to hold Buck as you began to deliver small licks to his tip, causing Buck to groan loudly. 

“Please stop teasing,” Buck whimpered. At this you took him in your mouth causing him to drop his head back against the wall in pleasure. 

As you knew your time was likely to be cut short any moment, you sped up your bobbing on Buck’s cock. After a minute you removed Buck from your mouth and licked a stripe all along the underside of him and cradled his balls as your tongue serviced him. 

“Get up here, I’m going to finish soon if you keep that up,” Buck pulled your head away from his crotch and pulled you up so you were standing again. As you stood, precum and saliva leaked from your mouth and you wiped your mouth as you looked back at Buck.

He quickly reached behind and unclasped your bra, kissing your neck and chest as he did so. He kissed down the gap between your breasts and then paid attention to your nipples. He took one of your nipples in his mouth and swirled his tongue around the piercing that lived there, while his other hand twisted your other nipple. Unable to speak from the sensations, you just moaned in pleasure, holding tightly onto the curls at the nape of Buck’s neck. 

His lips went back up to your neck, and his hand went down to your underwear and started pushing your panties off your hips and helping you step out of them. Once your underwear was flung to somewhere in the cubicle his fingers danced over your pelvis before landing on your clit. He rubbed gently with his thumb before his fingers slowly worked their way down to your opening. His fingers gently pressed against your thighs, encouraging you to slightly part them to give him better access. 

“You are so beautiful,” Buck breathed. His face was mere millimeters from yours, with his curls sticking to his forehead from the sweat of the excitement. 

“Buck please,” You groaned, his fingers were slowly exploring you, causing you to gently bite down on his muscular shoulder. 

“Please what baby? I need to hear your words,” he breathed heavily. His fingers were delicately reaching the most pleasurable place while his thumb worked your clit. 

“I, I need your cock, please” You spoke breathlessly. Despite being with Buck many times, the passion had never ceased and every single time with him was exhilarating. 

“Where baby? Where?” He teased. He knew damn well where, he just loved watching you writhe under his thumb. 

“B-Buck, Please, in-inside,” Every syllable was hard for you to push out as you edged closer to the brink. 

“Just let go first,” He said. As he did, you felt your legs begin to wobble, luckily Buck had began to hold you up with his other hand before. You let out a loud moan as he fingered you over the edge and then he quickly retracted his fingers. He maintained eye contact as he licked your juices off his two fingers. 

“Delicious,” he muttered. 

“I think we’re going to need this for the noise,” Buck said as he leant past the wall and turned the shower on. You both stood in the far end of the shower part of the cubicle as you had learnt the hard way that shower sex, under the water, was very dangerous and ended up in fits of giggles. 

Buck grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, pressed your back into the wall and littered your neck in light kisses. 

“Who’s teasing now?” You asked as you felt Buck’s length gently stroke your pussy but not going in. He breathed a laugh and pressed his lips to yours for a moment. 

“As you wish ma’am,” Buck whispered as he maneuvered himself to your entrance. You hissed as he started to push himself into you. Another thing you were not used to despite being with Buck so many times, was his size. 

“More, please.” you grunted, trying to grind yourself into him to get him deeper. 

At your request, Buck’s hands tightened on your thighs, his mouth attacking your neck and pushed himself all the way in. For a moment, he stilled, allowing you to get accustomed to him and then slowly began to thrust. 

Each thrust hit you so deeply, putting you in a state of bliss. So much so, that you nearly didn’t hear the door to the bathroom open. You quickly tapped Buck’s shoulder to alert him as he was borderline drunk on you, and could not form a coherent thought, let alone be aware of his surroundings. 

“Buck? Is that you?” Eddie’s voice rang out.

“Y-Yeah,” Buck stuttered. He was still inside you and struggled to reply without moaning. You gently pushed your hips into him in a desperate need for friction. 

“Are you okay? You sound funny?” Eddie asked. This made you nearly laugh so one of Buck’s hands quickly covered your mouth, and he glared into your eyes. 

“All good, water just went cold,” He shouted back, focusing on trying to sound normal.

“Have you seen y/n? Her shift is about to start and we need to do a handover?” Eddie asked. 

“I think I saw her take a phone call, I’m sure she will be back in any minute,” Buck replied as he slowly began pulling himself out of you. 

“Okay, thanks. See you back upstairs when you’re done” Eddie said.

“I’ll be done any minute,” Buck smirked as he slowly re-entered you. 

You both waited for the bathroom door to close, and once it did Buck began pistoning his hips into you at an ungodly pace. You must have looked like a mess as you leant back into the wall, holding tightly his shoulders. 

“Buck, please,” you moaned. He reached on of his hands down between you and rubbed your clit causing you to lean forward and bit his shoulder. 

“I’m so close,” He grunted as he continued to pound into you, his pace unrelenting. 

The edges of your vision began to blur as you felt yourself getting closer and closer. The coil in the pit of your torso clenched so tight until you finally let go. Your legs began shaking, unable to catch your breath as you came all over his cock. 

Buck kept his pace as he worked his way to his end, his load shooting deep inside you as you milked him. He leant forward, his forehead against yours as he tried to regain his breath. He was still inside you and was still leaking cum as he kissed you gently.

Once you had both caught your breath, he slowly pulled out of you and set you gently on the floor. 

“That was amazing,” he sighed as he began to get feeling back in his legs. 

“Now I really need a shower,” you said as you pushed the two of you under the water, beginning to wash the two of you. “I love you, Evan.”

He gently kissed you on the shoulder before lathering the two of you up with soap. The next few minutes were spent with him delicately washing you, and then you him. 

This moment of intimacy felt so special, you almost didn’t want to get out of the shower. You were in pure bliss in this moment with him.

“You are the love of my life,” Evan breathed as he kissed you gently. 

[kumkaniudaku]

Just For You

Summary: Terry and Patrice give each other lasting nicknames.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

"Terrence and Patrice, you're married. Any objections?" 

None from Terry. A few from Patrice, but what was new? She always had objections. Ms. Cole answered each of her star pupil's questions in extreme detail before sending the pair home as a fictional married couple exploring the semester's section on personal finance. 

It was Terry's idea for them to work together on the weekend at his house, citing weekday football practices as too much of a hindrance to after-school instructional time. His sophomore year came with another growth spurt to a towering 6'1", and he couldn't let the new length or extra muscle go to waste. The fight for starting receiver had only just begun. 

Patrice hated falling behind. The thought of letting days pass without tracking toward their project's completion ate away at her. She allowed Terry to have his way, but under one condition: they'd work all morning on Saturday to knock things out in one day.

He scrunched his face and ran a hand over his haircut. "Patrice, that's a lot. We can't stretch it to two days?" He thought again for a better solution when she started to open her mouth with a rebuttal. "What if we talked on the phone and finished up Sunday night! Then you only have to leave home once!" 

"Take it or leave it, Terrence. One day or a little bit every day after your practice." 

With Saturday morning SportsCenter's top five clips playing on the television while they sat beside each other, their feet and legs jutting out from beneath his mother's coffee table, it was clear he'd taken the offer with a few concessions. Highlights stayed on during homework. 

Patrice sat still and quiet while she watched Terry twirl a pencil between his fingers and squint at the instructions on their project syllabus. Late morning sunlight streaming through the living room window brought out the honey color in his eyes, her favorite part of the blue-green pieces of art she pretended not to sneak glances at when they spent time together. His brows furrowed to create little ripples at the center of his forehead. Three. She always counted them when he made his focused face. 

If anyone didn't know him, he'd look like an intimidating man at least five years his senior. But Patrice knew Terry was mostly a gentle giant. He spoke softly as if the sound of his own voice was scary, opened doors, laughed on occasion, and remained polite day to day. Compared to the other boys in his grade, Terry was a saint—a saint slowly creeping his way into Patrice's day-to-day thoughts. 

Terry's shoulder brushed against Patrice's as he shifted on the floor, making her shuffle further away to avoid the goosebumps populating her forearm. Terry glanced over, concern replacing the focus in his eyes. "You okay? Did I hit you?" 

"No, I just didn't wanna be so deep in your space." Partially true. The why was her secret to keep. 

Terry shrugged. "It's cool. You're not bothering me." She never was. If he were honest, Terry wished she would bother him more. Come over more, show up to more games, and stay on the phone a little later when he called under the guise of missing notes from class, knowing the only thing he missed was her voice. He scooched closer to her, leaving a sliver of space between them. "So, I think you're the breadwinner in this scenario. Sixty-thousand a year ain't half bad. You must be a professor or something. Talkin' them students' heads off, I'm sure." 

"Shut up," Patrice laughed as she elbowed his side. "You aren't far behind! Your $45k gets us to a combined $105k. That's more money than I've ever seen." 

Her compliment of his pretend income pulled a closed-mouth smile from Terry. "Yeah, well, how do we spend it? Says here we need to budget our combined monthly income between bills, discretionary spending, and savings." Quick mental math helped him tally their post-tax income. "That's $3,204 bi-weekly. Just under $7000 a month. I think we can handle that." 

"Let's start with housing and work from there?" 

"I'm following your lead." 

One hour of hard work and bickering netted the play couple one outcome they could agree on. Terry thought it'd be best for them to choose a modest three-bedroom dwelling with a low mortgage to fit their housing needs and free up funds for two cars. Though Patrice wanted a bigger backyard for her garden, she relented when her mate pointed out she'd get the better car and a summer vacation if they were wise with their monthly spending. One night out a week, $500 a month in "fun funds," and a strict savings schedule left them more than enough money in their reserve to consider children in their plan. 

Brain fog stemming from a quietly growling belly made Patrice stretch her arms high about her head and whine. "Can we take a break? I'm a little hungry." 

"I can make you something!" Hearing the extra eagerness in his own voice felt like a punch to the throat for Terry. Embarrassment had him scaling back to save face. "It's just a PB&J. You don't want me using the stove. Or you can wait 'til my mom gets home. She usually does crawfish on the weekends."

"Shoot, let's do both! I've never had crawfish before."

Not ever having crawfish was a cardinal sin in Terry's household. If his parents found out Patrice had been living a life without experiencing their family specialty, she'd be forced to camp out until every piece of corn, sausage, potato, and crustacean was consumed. Terry logged the reference in the back of his mind for later use as he made his way into the kitchen. 

While Terry focused on the even spreads of peanut butter and jelly on his mama's "good" bread, Patrice took her time mosying around the large living room to acquaint herself with her surroundings. 

Expensive trinkets and books she'd never read lined the cubby spaces on one side of their large wooden entertainment center. On the other, family photos told the Richmond family's story. At the top, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond posed in formal attire with big smiles to celebrate what Patrice assumed was their wedding day. Another shelf featured photos of twin girls with encased baby booties in the middle. She smiled at their big afro puffs and chocolate-covered faces while they enjoyed dessert at Disney World. Then, she spotted it. Perched on a stack of photo albums, a little boy decked in Spider-Man gear from head to toe stretched himself in the hero's signature squat. But those eyes were unmistakable. Little Terrence was clearly on a mission to save the world. Or his backyard, at the very least. 

In awe of how cute Terry looked as a kid playing make-believe, Patrice reached out to grab the frame for a closer look. That was him, alright. Terry still had the same toothy grin that crinkled his nose at the bridge and made his eyes close from the rise of his cheeks. Ears too big for his body stood out even more than they did ten years later. He may have been smaller in stature and much more upbeat than the brooding teenager in the other room, but after a year of friendship and a little secret pining, she could recognize him anywhere. 

Immersion disarmed Patrice's senses, giving Terry ample space and opportunity to sneak up on her. "That's funny?" His voice cut through the silence, making Patrice jump and turn to catch the sly smile on his face. "That was my fifth birthday. I can't remember why I didn't get a party, but I guess I still had fun that day." 

"It's cute," Patrice complimented. "I didn't know they made masks for little kids with adult-sized heads." 

Payback from her jab tasted perfectly sweet on her tongue, like her Nana's homemade apple pie. Patrice watched Terry roll his eyes and shake his head before pulling the glass photo frame from her hands and placing it back in its rightful spot. 

He pretended to laugh along before kissing his teeth. "Come get this sandwich before I change my mind, girl." 

Terry would never change his mind, no matter how hard he tried to pretend or fight back the smile revealing his top row of teeth. Patrice had a free license to pick with him, and, on occasion, he'd join in to further solidify their friendship. 

Lighthearted rounds of the dozens meandered into winding conversions dominated by Patrice's favorite secret chatterbox. He ran through team drama a mile a minute, only taking breaks to chew and ask her intentions for the remaining pretzels on her plate. She granted him permission to clean up her portion and his if it meant he'd keep talking. 

"So, you like orange?" His abrupt change in subject turned Patrice's passive listening into active confusion. He pointed at the scrunchie on her wrist to clarify. "The color, I mean. I noticed you wear it all the time. I was just wondering if it's your favorite." 

Patrice fiddled with the ponytail holder, looking for anything to keep her from making eye contact with Terry. Knowing she was being watched excited and terrified her with equal intensity. "Um, yeah. It is." 

"How come?" 

"I don't know, really. I think because of how the sky turns orange when the sun's going down in the summertime. That's always been pretty to me." Terry committed the information to memory with a quick head nod, letting awkward silence scream into Patrice's ear until she forced out a follow-up question. "What about you? What's your favorite color?" 

Terry thought for a moment. "Blue, mostly. But like Carolina blue. If you get too dark, it's like the Patriots, and I hate the Patriots." 

"Dang. Soooo, no tickets to see Tom Brady for our fun money, huh?" 

"Well, I ain't say all that!" 

Stomach-busting laughter derailed all thoughts of returning to the second half of their assignment. Instead, they chose to take a nose dive into each other's likes, dislikes, and anything in between. Terry had to know Patrice's birthday for…research purposes. 

She scribbled the date on his mother's wall calendar. "April 23rd, remember? Shakespeare's birthday!" 

Fitting. Terry stored the date away in the section of his brain reserved for important things like stats and Lil Wayne lyrics for good this time. 

"What's your favorite food?" 

"My maman's étoufée," Terry answered, whistling from the memory of last Thanksgiving. "I can't wait to go visit next month!" 

How Patrice wished to visit with him and experience even the smallest taste of the dish, brightening his smile more than she'd ever seen before. 

Back and forth they went while time morphed into more of an abstract concept than a rule governing the physical world. Terry's favorite film? Remember the Titans. An obvious answer for obvious reasons, but Patrice loved to hear his explanation anyway. Patrice's plans for her future career? A teacher, high school English more specifically. And, if she found the time, she'd get her PhD and teach other teachers how to teach one day. Her commitment to learning and school was admittedly odd to Terry, but still, he found her passion for it magnetic. 

In their own world, Patrice and Terry were free to be themselves in every imperfect way. Nothing was too nerdy or too weird to discuss. And, if it got close, they knew to keep each other's secrets. 

Gathering plates for cleanup, Terry rattled off his umpteenth question. "What's your middle name? Wait! Can I guess?" Patrice smiled and pushed for him to take his best shot. "You look like a Nicole." 

"No way! How'd you guess that?" 

"Every Black girl's middle name is Nicole. Or Marie. It was a 50/50 chance." 

"It was a 50/50 chance," Patrice mocked before kissing her teeth. "What's yours? Michael?" 

Terry smirked at her attempt to get him back. "Nope. It's James. Me and my dad have the same one." 

"I guess that's kinda cool." Curiosity turning the wheels in Patrice's head robbed her of seeing Terry trying to hide his smile and reddening ears from her view. "Do people ever call you TJ, or is it always Terrence or Terry?" 

Hardly anyone called him Terrence. His full first name was his mother's go-to when he was in trouble. In school, teachers faithfully called him what existed on the roll sheet. But, those closest to his heart knew him as Terry and nothing else. The divide between Terrence and Terry was his way of telling friends from foes. TJ, though, was new and interesting.

Thinking for a couple of seconds yielded no results. "Nah, I don't think so. You can have dibs if I give you one." 

Decisions decisions. Alternate names gifted by little boys never went well for Patrice. Four Eyes, Girl Urkel, and Stilts still haunted her well past elementary and middle school. The potential fallout from another botched nicknaming debacle wouldn't deter her from having something special between them.

"Fine," Patrice relented, grumbling enough to pull a laugh from Terry. "But nothing about my physical appearance. Or food-related. Or downright mean. Or Pat. I hate Pat." 

Her heavy southern twang exaggerated all of her demands, eliciting a laugh from Terry as he shook his head. "You know, usually, people don't get that much say in their nicknames. It's kinda the whole point." 

"Yeah, well, this ain't one of them time, so tread lightly." 

Terry lifted his hands in surrender, not wanting to squander his opportunity to deepen their connections. If rules existed around what he could and could not call her, so be it. "What about…P," he prosed after a few seconds. "Short and simple." 

"And unfortunately already taken by my mama. Try again." 

"Patty? Like LaBelle. Y'all both kinda mean but in a cool, old lady way." 

Patrice's annoyed eye roll sharply contrasted with Terry's impish grin. Payback was officially his again. 

"Terry, I swear! Be serious!" 

Relenting, he tossed out another option. "Okay, okay," he laughed. "For real this time. How does Treece sound? Just the second part of your name." Terry watched her mull over the idea, his smile growing when she offered no immediate rebuttal. He nudged her shoulder and smiled when she forced a sour expression. "Nah, you like it! Treece! Treecey! Big Treece!" 

Listening to Terry rattle off variations of her newly minted nickname, the sound from his lips sounding like her mother asking who wants a second helping of ice cream or Usher singing to her and her alone through her radio's speakers. 

"You know we sound like twins now, right? TJ and Treece?" 

"That's what we should name the kids." 

Missing context caused an invisible record to scratch, forcing Terry to quickly correct himself. Kids? They'd just reached good friend status. Patrice opened her mouth to question Terry, but he beat her to the punch with an explanation. 

He emphatically waved his hands in front of him, trying to sweep the misstep into the ether. "For the project! I meant kids for the project!" 

"Right!" The project. Duh. Patrice tried to recover cooly from what she was sure looked like utter panic with a dash of hopefulness on her face. "The kids from the project. Which –" 

"We should get back to. It's gettin' late. Unless you stayin' for crawfish tonight?" 

Dancing eyebrows and an irresistible grin slowly turned a firm no into a maybe before Patrice could stop her lips from moving. 

She sighed, giving in to the barely there push of peer pressure. "I'll call and ask my mom," she grumbled. "Is the phone in the living room, TJ?" 

"By the couch, Treece." 

Special names reserved for private use added another layer to a friendship blossoming by the day. Terry stood in the kitchen for a second longer to try out Patrice's new moniker alone, flexing different inflections and how it sounded next to his. Treece and Terry. Terry and Treece. Treece Ellis. Treece Richmond.

The last one earned a few repeats until Patrice's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

"No luck on crawfish, TJ! I've got to leave to babysit my brother tonight!" she hollered from the other room. “Come on so we can finish! We gotta get one of these kids on paper and budget for their Spider-Man birthday party!" 

Terry chuckled and shook his head. She'd never let him live that down. "Alright. I'm coming. You're a real demanding wife, you know that?" he shouted back with a smile.

Treece Richmond. He could get used to that one.

��————-

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[4nyangnyangz]

— checkmate! ♟️

synopsis: it was supposed to be just a normal hangout for you and your best friend, Taehyun until the both of you decide to add a little twist to the game of chess that you were playing, uncovering hidden truths and removing a piece of clothing with each loss. the game leads to the both of you revealing unspoken desires and dealing with the suffocating tension between you. a certain turn of events causes the both of you to discover that your friendship may evolve beyond platonic boundaries.

pairings: best friend!taehyun x fem reader

tags/warnings: nsfw content! minors dni. smut, masturbation, fingering, oral(f receiving), unprotected sex(wrap it before u tap it!), overstimulation, creampie, slight exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, best friends to lovers(?), freaky chess if that makes sense, LOTS of teasing and sexual tension.

wordcount: 5k!! THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD.

a/n: HEOL I can't believe I'm reaching 200-400+ notes already, it all seems so surreal to me still, but i'm really thankful for all the support!! I do have to say I would consider this as my actual first smut fic(the guitarist gyu fic was just a glimpse lol) so I may have gotten carried away on some of the scenes.... i'm still not too confident with writing smut so pls go easy on me! 🙏 happy tyun month! <3

fic below the cut!!

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

It was your typical Saturday afternoon when you found yourself at Taehyun's place. The weather outside was gloomy, clouds hanging low, casting an overcast that matched the lazy mood you were in. You knocked on the door to his apartment, a soft thud as your knuckles met the wood.

A few moments later, the door opened, revealing your best friend, Taehyun, standing with a wide grin that revealed his dimples and perfect teeth.

“Hey, y/n, I'm glad you made it,” he greeted, stepping aside so you could enter. “So, what are we doing today?”

You shrugged, offering a playful smirk. “I don't know. Just whatever sounds fun, I guess.”

He motioned toward his living room, where a table sat in the center. On top of it rests a chessboard which made your heart skip a beat. You’d played countless games of chess with your siblings over the years, but to your surprise, you recall you haven't actually played chess with Taehyun before.

Something about the way your best friend looked at you today made you feel like this particular game might be different.

What did he come up with this time..... you thought to yourself.

“How about a chess match?” Taehyun casually suggests, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really, Taehyun? You know I'm not exactly a pro, right?”

Taehyun chuckled. “Well, I'm not either. Besides, it's not about winning or losing. It's about... having fun.”

You shrugged, intrigued. “Okay, sure. But if I get destroyed, I'm blaming you.”

He chuckles as he set the pieces up with practiced ease. You took your seat across from him, ready to dive into a familiar rhythm. But as he moved his first piece—a white pawn, his eyes twinkled as he leaned back.

“Actually,” Taehyun said, his voice had a lower tone, “I was thinking we could play with a twist.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity visible in your expression.“A twist?”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. “For every time someone gets a check on the other player, the person who’s in check has to answer a question. No dodging. No lying. Honest answers only.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded in response. It was a bit unconventional, but it wasn’t like you had anything to hide, and you have always been able to talk to Taehyun about anything. Still, there was something in the air—something unspoken between you two. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it made your pulse quicken just a little. You knew it wasn't going to be easy, especially knowing how Taehyun could come up with something you'd least expect at any time.

“Deal. But don't expect me to go easy on you.” You said, picking up your knight and making your first move, dragging it across your row of pawns and placing it on the board.

The game began smoothly, both of you slipping into familiar roles. Taehyun's confidence was clear as always, despite it being your first time playing chess with him, it was clear he wasn't going to go easy on you. The sound of the pieces clicking into place was oddly comforting.

But the twist, the questions, were a different element altogether. You found yourself becoming more aware of Taehyun's every move, every glance. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you as he moved his pieces. You tried your best to keep calm, but you couldn't deny that it was slightly affecting your ability to focus.

By the time you’d captured his bishop, it was already becoming clear that this wouldn’t be a typical match. Your thoughts were scattered; you weren't focused solely on the game anymore.

When you made a bold move, putting him in check, you grinned. “Check,” you muttered softly, eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Alright, question time.”

Taehyun adjusted in his seat, grinning as if he was starting to have a glimpse of where this game was heading. “Ask away.”

You leaned back slightly, tapping your chin as you thought. “If you could change one thing about our friendship, what would it be?”

He blinked in surprise, not expecting such a serious question coming from you. He pauses for a minute before replying, “Wow, I wasn't expecting that kind of question.”

“Don't give me that, you added these rules in the first place. Honest answers only, remember?” you chuckled, seeing how he got flustered after your question. You were just starting to enjoy this game, after all.

You observed him as he contemplated, biting his lower lip as if he was trying to find the right words before answering. You couldn't hide the smile tugging from the corners of your lips as you figured from his hesitation that he was starting to regret adding these rules to what was supposed to be a simple chess game in the first place.

There was an immediate shift in his expression as he answers, however, catching you off guard.

“Nothing. I like how our friendship is right now. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

As his words settled in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment creep in before you could stop it. You had hoped—just maybe—that his answer would hint at something more, something beyond friendship. But instead, it was safe and neutral. You swallowed the feeling quickly, masking it with a chuckle as you leaned back slightly.

“Good answer,” you said, forcing an easygoing tone.

But your mind lingered on it longer than it should have, and it showed in your next move, as much as you didn't want for it to. Your fingers hesitated before settling on the wrong piece. Taehyun, always perceptive, caught the shift on your behavior immediately. He could have called you out on it, but he didn’t have to. Instead, he seized the opportunity on the board, swiftly capturing one of your pieces and cornering you into a check.

A small smirk played on his lips as he rested his chin on his hand. “Check,” he murmured, then tilted his head slightly.“My turn.”

His eyes held yours for a second too long, and then he asked, almost a little directly for your liking.

“What do you think are the chances that what we have could be something more than friendship?”

Your heart stuttered.

Your eyes widened and your breath was caught in your throat, heat rushing to your face as you scrambled to form a response. Your mind raced between a thousand possible answers, each one tangled with feelings you weren't sure you were ready to admit out loud.

“I—” You hesitated, looking anywhere but at him.

Taehyun’s gaze didn’t waver. “No lying, y/n.” he reminded you, his voice softer this time but firm. “Just honest answers, remember?”

One thing about Taehyun is that whatever game you play with him, he definitely plays it better. You are just now realizing that you shouldn't have provoked him first.

You cleared your throat, trying to pretend your mind wasn't a mess before answering, but clearly failing as you let the words slip out of your mouth. “Um, well... I don't know. That depends. You said you liked how it is right now, and I like the way things are too, so-”

“Y/N,” Taehyun is quick to snap you out of it and you blink in confusion, your eyes meeting his gaze.

“You do know that I've known you enough to tell when you're lying or not, right?”

You stared at him, heat creeping up your neck as you tried to keep your expression neutral. “I'm not lying,” you insisted, gripping the edge of the table just a little too tightly. “I really haven't thought about it that way, and even so, I just like it the way it is now.”

Taehyun didn't say anything right away, just watched you with that knowing look that made it impossible to hide anything from him. He had always been good at reading you—probably a bit too good. It was both infuriating and terrifying, to say the least.

A small smirk curled at the edge of his lips. “Alright then,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair.“Why don't we up the stakes a bit?”

You narrowed your eyes, suddenly wary. “....what do you mean?”

“For every check from here on out, instead of asking a question, the person in check takes off a piece of clothing.” Taehyun suggests, not breaking eye contact.

You felt your stomach flip at the idea.“Are you serious right now?”

“As serious as you were when you said you hadn't thought about us being more than friends,” he shot back, his tone deceptively casual.

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded.“That's ridiculous. Why would I even agree to that?”

“Because I know you'd never back down from a challenge,” he said simply, tilting his head slightly. “Unless, of course, you were lying earlier and you're actually worried about losing your focus.”

You bristled at that, fully aware that he was baiting you. And even worse, it was working.

Your pride warred with your common sense, but Taehyun just sat there, waiting, perfectly composed, perfectly unreadable. He wasn’t going to let this go, and you knew it.

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. You felt your heartbeat start going faster at the idea that you're going to play a much more dangerous game from now on.

“Fine. But don’t think for a second that I’m going easy on you.”

His smirk widened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And with that, the game resumed. Only now, the stakes were much, much higher.

———————

You scanned your remaining pieces, picking up your rook and aimed for his king that was left open.

“Check.” you muttered hesitantly, obviously not prepared for what was about to happen next.

You barely registered the sound of Taehyun’s sigh as he unhooked his fingers from the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. The moment the fabric slipped away, your brain short-circuited.

Oh no.

You knew he had been working out a lot lately. He always made a point to update you—sometimes with a casual text, sometimes with a mirror selfie from the gym that you pretended not to analyze too much. But seeing him like this, right in front of you, was entirely different. His broad shoulders, the sharp definition of his abs, the way his toned arms flexed slightly as he tossed his shirt to the side—everything about him suddenly felt... distracting.

Way too distracting.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral, but it was a losing battle. Your thoughts were loud, so loud, and no matter how hard you tried to focus back on the game, all you could think about was how ridiculously good he looked. You were having a hard time even trying to look at the board without getting distracted by his bare torso as he sat across from you.

“Your move,” Taehyun reminded you, his voice was smooth and amused.

You blinked, realizing you had been staring just a second too long. You quickly dropped your gaze to the board, but the pieces were all a blur. What were you even doing? What was your strategy? Did you even have one?

A quiet chuckle broke your already fragile focus. You glanced up, only to see Taehyun watching you with a knowing smirk, his chin resting lazily on his hand. He wasn’t saying anything, but his expression said enough.

He knew.

He knew the effect he had on you. He knew exactly what was going through your mind, and he was enjoying every second of it.

“Why? Is there something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You scoffed, quickly reaching for a piece just to seem composed.“Nope. Just thinking.”

“Thinking,” he echoed, clearly amused. “Right. About your next move, or something else?”

You shot him a glare, but your face was already burning, and Taehyun—ever perceptive, definitely noticed. His smirk deepened, and he let out another soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Y/N,” he mused, his voice low and teasing, “for someone who insists they haven’t thought about us being more than friends… you sure are an open book right now.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, your voice lacking any real bite as you forced yourself to look away from his ridiculously smug expression. You needed to focus. You needed to stop thinking about the fact that Taehyun was very much shirtless, very much toned, and very much aware of how flustered you were.

With a sharp inhale, you made your move, pushing a piece forward with more force than necessary.

Big mistake.

You realized it a second too late. The moment your fingers left the piece, you internally cursed yourself. But it was too late to take it back.

Taehyun hummed, clearly noticing your slip-up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he made his move seamlessly, as if he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, your mind was still a mess, thoughts tangled between the game and the way his bare shoulders flexed slightly with each motion.

Another move. Another mistake.

You clenched your jaw, trying desperately to regain control, but the damage was already done. With each exchange, you slipped further and further into a losing position. And then, just as you were scrambling to fix things, Taehyun’s fingers moved decisively, and your heart sank.

“Check.”

You stared at the board, dread pooling in your stomach.

Oh, fuck.

No, no, no.

You were trapped. Your pieces were cornered, and there was no easy way out of it. Slowly, you lifted your gaze, only to be met with Taehyun’s expectant grin. He leaned back slightly, arms resting lazily on the chair, clearly waiting.

And that was when the real horror sank in.

You immediately regretted not wearing more layers. A jacket. A hoodie. Maybe a coat or two. Anything that could have saved you from this exact moment.

Swallowing hard, you hesitantly reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers curling around the fabric. Your pulse pounded in your ears as hesitation gripped you.

Then, before you could move any further, Taehyun's voice cut through the charged silence, soft and serious.

“You know,” he said, his teasing edge completely gone, “if you're not comfortable with this, you can just surrender and we can stop right here. I'm fine with it, but you really don't have to push yourself.”

Taehyun's gaze held yours, steady and unreadable, and for a moment, the air between you shifted. His words fully settled in, his offer to stop the game still lingering in the air.

You looked down at the board, your eyes scanning the remaining pieces. There weren’t many left. The game was reaching its final stretch, and you were dangerously close to losing. The logical choice was to surrender, to let yourself off the hook before this got even more out of hand.

But something inside you refused.

Maybe it was your competitive streak. Maybe it was the way Taehyun had been teasing you all night, getting under your skin like he always did, always so composed, so sure of himself. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that some part of you wanted to prove to yourself that you could handle this. That being this close to him, playing this ridiculous game, didn’t affect you as much as it did.

Well, it did, but you weren’t ready to admit that yet.

You exhaled slowly, lifting your gaze to meet his.“I want to keep going.”

Taehyun studied you for a moment, his usual smirk replaced by something softer, something laced with concern. “Y/N… are you sure?”

“I mean it,” you insisted, forcing a small, almost defiant smile. “What? Are you worried I might actually beat you or something?”

He didn’t answer right away, but his lips twitched, as if amused by your bravado. Still, his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation. And when he found none—or maybe just saw that you were too stubborn to admit it, he leaned back with a sigh.

“Alright then,” he said, though his voice was quieter now.“But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Your stomach twisted as you finally gripped the hem of your shirt, heart hammering in your chest. The moment you pulled your shirt over your head and placed it to the side, the cold air of the room hit your skin instantly, sending a shiver down your spine.

If I had known I would've ended up doing this, I should've worn better underwear... you thought to yourself as you felt your face heat up.

And that’s when it really sank in.

You were sitting across from your best friend while playing chess, the both of you half-naked, just the two of you, in his apartment. Alone.

You felt the weight of the situation settle over you, a mixture of embarrassment and something else entirely crawling up your spine. Every inch of you was hyper-aware of the fact that his gaze was on you now. You weren’t looking at him, you refused to, but you could feel it. A flicker of movement in the corner of your eye, a subtle shift in his posture. You could've sworn you caught the change in his expression the moment you took off your shirt.

Still, you forced yourself to focus, swallowing hard as you reached forward to make your next move. Your fingers trembled slightly, but you steadied them, determined not to let this affect your game any more than it already had.

Even as you sensed Taehyun’s lingering gaze towards you, you kept your eyes locked on the board, pretending like this was just another match. Like your heart wasn’t just about to jump out of your chest.

Despite the undeniable tension crackling between you, the game pressed on.

Each move was careful, calculated, yet neither of you could fully ignore the underlying awareness now lingering in the air. The playful teasing had faded into something else. Something heavier, something unspoken. And through it all, Taehyun remained unusually quiet.

It wasn’t until a few moves later, when the game was teetering dangerously close to its end, that he finally broke the silence.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat as he moved a piece forward.“What should the winner get as a prize?”

You blinked, realizing only now that he hadn’t muttered a single word since you had taken off your shirt.

Your fingers, which had been hovering over your next move, paused mid-air as you glanced up at him. He was doing his best to appear nonchalant, but there was a slight stiffness in his posture, a certain tightness in his jaw that made your pulse quicken.

Was he…. struggling too?

The realization made something stir in you, a quiet thrill creeping into your chest. You felt relieved and slightly amused at the realization that he had grown awfully silent compared to how he was earlier.

So it wasn’t just you.

Your lips curved slightly as you leaned back. “I don’t know,” you mused, tilting your head. “What do you think?”

Taehyun’s eyes flickered to yours before he offered a small shrug.“How about the loser gets the winner a gift or something?”

You hummed to yourself, pretending to think it over. But really, you were studying the board, judging the current situation of your pieces. It was neck and neck now, one wrong move from either of you would decide everything.

And suddenly, an idea struck you.

You glanced up at him, feeling a boldness rise within you, fueled by the tension, by the competition, by the fact that he wasn’t as unaffected as he had seemed.

“You know what would be more interesting?” you said, voice smooth, teasing. “The loser has to do anything the winner asks them to do. Anything. No matter how extreme. There's no limit.”

Taehyun stilled for a fraction of a second. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smirk—one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Anything, huh?” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone.

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down.“Anything.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if measuring your resolve. Then, with a low chuckle, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“Alright,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly. “But just remember, Y/N… you were the one who suggested it.”

Your heart pounded at his words. There's no turning back now.... you thought to yourself.

And with that, the final stretch of the game began.

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

The game had never felt more intense.

Each move was deliberate, each decision weighed carefully, but the tension between you both made it nearly impossible to think straight. The stakes were higher now, not just because of the game itself, but because of what came after. It was a battle of wits, of patience, of knowing exactly how to push each other’s limits, both in the game and outside of it. Neither of you wanted to lose.

You held your breath as Taehyun studied the board, his eyes scanning for an opening. His brows furrowed slightly in concentration, his fingers resting near a piece—but then, in an unexpected moment of miscalculation,

Taehyun made the wrong move.

It was subtle, something he normally wouldn’t have overlooked, but the second his fingers left the piece, you saw it. You saw the opening you needed. You didn't hesitate.

You moved your piece with confidence, a triumphant grin spreading across your lips.

“Checkmate.”

Taehyun blinked. He looked down at the board, lips parting slightly as he replayed the sequence in his mind, and the realization flashed across his face for just a second before he sighed, leaning back.

He had lost.

For a moment, you simply stared at the board, almost not believing it yourself. You had won. You had actually beaten Taehyun. All the built-up tension, all the stress of the game, came crashing down in the form of uncontrollable excitement. Maybe a little too much, but you couldn’t help it.

“Yes! I won!” You shot up from your seat, cheering and throwing your arms up in victory. “I actually won!”

Taehyun exhaled, shaking his head as he watched you practically bounce in place. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, lips twitching. “No need to rub it in.”

“Oh, but I do need to rub it in,” you teased with a grin, slightly leaning down towards him.“Losing in the very game you suggested? That’s kind of embarrassing, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair and avoiding eye-contact with you. “I was careless. That last move… I shouldn’t have made that. But it was a close game.”

“But you did make that move,” you snickered, still basking in your victory. “And now you have to do whatever I ask. No matter how extreme. No limits, remember?”

Taehyun sighed, finally looking up at you with a small, amused shake of his head. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You won fair and square.”

Then, his expression shifted, growing more serious as he leaned forward.“So? What do you want me to do?”

You froze.

Oh, right. The prize.

You had been so focused on beating him, so determined to win, that you hadn’t actually thought about what you wanted.

Your excitement faded slightly as you sat back down, humming to yourself in thought. What did you want? You had thrown out the challenge so boldly, but now that the power was actually in your hands, you realized you had no idea what to do with it.

While you were still contemplating, Taehyun cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice quieter now. “While you decide, could you... put your shirt back on? The game's over, so....”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the request. But then you caught it—the slight unsteadiness in his tone, the way his voice was slightly shaky, the way his jaw was just a little too tense.

And when you really looked at him, you could see it. The way his fingers curled against his knee, the way his eyes flickered anywhere but directly at you. He had been keeping himself composed this entire time, but now that the game was over, his self-restraint was starting to crumble.

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized you weren't the only one struggling to keep composure. Taehyun’s usual confident facade had shown cracks tonight, and you decided to have a little fun with it. With a playful smirk tugging at your lips, you crossed your arms and refused his request outright.

“Why should I put my shirt back on?” you teased, your voice low and mischievous. “Were you too distracted by me that you couldn’t make your move properly or something? I could’ve sworn I caught you glancing at my chest earlier.”

For a moment, Taehyun’s eyes widened in mock indignation before he sighed, his defeat evident. He leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to smooth over the embarrassment.

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” he admitted, his tone softening with a trace of exasperation and honesty, “I'm a man too. I have no control of whatever physiological reaction my body has when a girl takes off her shirt in front of me.”

The confession hung in the air between you both, charged with unspoken meaning. His words, laced with vulnerability, made you feel a warmth that rivaled the playful teasing in your heart. You couldn’t help but let a genuine laugh escape, mingling amusement with the thrill of having the upper hand.

“Oh, really?” you replied, leaning in slightly as if daring him to say more.“So all those missed moves were because you were busy drooling?”

Taehyun’s cheeks flushed, and despite his best efforts to maintain composure, a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.“Maybe,” he grumbled good-naturedly.“But I can’t help it when you're… too distracting.”

In that moment, the tension shifted from the competitive spark of the game to something warmer and more intimate. The room, filled with the cool draft against your bare skin, suddenly felt charged with anticipation.

Taehyun’s honest admission had stirred something inside you, and suddenly the charged air of the room felt almost too intense to bear. In an effort to lighten the mood, you blurted out a terrible joke with a nervous chuckle, hoping to defuse the heat of the moment.

“Huh, I'm glad I won then,” you said with a lopsided grin. “I can't even imagine what you'd ask me to do for you if you ended up winning. What, were you going to ask me to kiss you or something?”

The words tumbled out almost too fast, and you chuckled awkwardly, immediately realizing the weight of your own words. For a heartbeat, silence reigned, punctuating the sudden vulnerability of the moment.

Before you could second-guess yourself, Taehyun’s expression shifted. The playful glimmer in his eyes was replaced by a resolute seriousness. Leaning forward with a calm intensity, he cut straight to the chase.

“Well, you're the winner. If you asked me to kiss you right now, I'll do it.”

The words hit you like a jolt. For an instant, your heart pounded, and you felt a flush of unexpected heat. You hadn’t meant for things to escalate so quickly, this was entirely unanticipated.

Your laughter wavered, replaced by a trembling silence. The playful banter had crossed a line, and suddenly every word felt amplified, every heartbeat echoing the gravity of the moment. You met his gaze, searching for a sign that maybe this was all just another game, but his eyes held nothing but earnest intent, leaving you breathless and uncertain of how to respond.

For a moment, you were unable to speak, unable to find the words to diffuse the tension or turn his request down. Your mind spun with every possibility, but your body responded without your conscious consent.

A warmth pooled in your core, and a tingling sensation spread across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You squirmed in place, shifting uncomfortably as the heat built in your lower abdomen. A whimper escaped from your lips before you could silence it, and with fumbling fingers, you discreetly rubbed the tops of your thighs together. The friction provided only partial relief as you tried to massage the pulsing ache away.

“I, um... Taehyun, I—” you stuttered, struggling to form coherent words. His gaze remained fixed on yours, a hint of gentle encouragement in the furrow of his brow. He was waiting for your response, and all the while, the pounding in your chest threatened to drown out your own thoughts.

You shook your head, desperate to regain control and steer the conversation back towards safer waters. Your words tumbled out in a nervous rush, contradicting the very actions your body had betrayed.

You bit down on your lower lip, hoping to contain the arousal that was building inside you. It was a futile effort; the ache between your thighs only intensified as you stole a glance at Taehyun. His gaze was fixed on yours as he waited for you to continue, his curious round eyes staring right at you seemed to only fuel your growing need.

You rubbed the tops of your thighs again, seeking any form of relief from the pulsing heat. But it was no use, and before you could stop yourself, your legs wobbled and gave way under their own strength. With an embarrassed squeak, you leaned into Taehyun, placing your hands on his shoulders for support that stopped yourself from completely falling to the floor.

Today was the first time you’d ever seen Taehyun’s shirtless. Even being this close to him and touching him like this felt strangely new and intimate to you, as if you were beginning to blur the lines that marked the boundaries of your friendship with him. But the thought fled from your mind as soon as Taehyun wrapped his right arm around your waist, providing balance and support with a gentle yet stable hold on the small of your back. Those months of him going back and forth to the gym turned out to be pretty useful in this moment, after all.

His touch sparked another jolt of electricity through your core, amplifying the pulsing ache between your thighs. A soft moan escaped from your lips, and your breathing grew heavy as you struggled to maintain your composure. You were a flushed mess, knowing Taehyun must have heard you considering how close you are to him at this moment.

You felt Taehyun’s gaze linger on you as the corner of his lips formed into a smirk.“Is this what you want?” he whispered, his voice raspy and low.“You want me to hold you like this?”

Taehyun’s warm breath tickled your ear as he spoke, the pulsing ache in your core growing stronger and harder to resist. His hold on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you closer as he leaned in to speak again.

“Tell me, y/n. Is that what you want me to do?”

Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts and desires. All the while, Taehyun held you in his embrace, his bare chest pressed against yours. The heady scent of his perfume wafted through the air, heightening your senses to an unbearable level of arousal.

You were embarrassed and desperate, clinging onto him for dear life. His body pressed against yours was more than you could handle, and every part of you wanted to surrender to the lustful urges that had taken over. It didn’t matter that Taehyun was your best friend—your best friend of four years, for goodness’ sake. In this moment, all that mattered was for only him to satisfy your desires, and no one else.

The tighter you clung onto Taehyun, the more you could feel his body pressed against yours. And the more you needed him, you needed his touch in places that you couldn’t reach on your own. Every movement seemed to press your thigh against the hard bulge of his own arousal, the heat of his crotch against your core through the fabric of his pants. The sensations combined into an overwhelming ache, and it was all you could do to hold on for dear life.

With a deep breath, you gathered up every ounce of courage to confess your desires, whispering into his ear.

“Fuck, I... need you,” you stammered, voice trembling with need. “I want you, Taehyun, please...”

The moment you uttered those words, Taehyun stiffened. There was a pause of hesitation, a moment of anticipation as you both waited for the inevitable. Then, with a playful chuckle and a teasing note in his tone, Taehyun whispered into your ear.

“Took you long enough.”

Before you could process what he’d just said, Taehyun swept you up into his arms. You squealed in surprise at the sudden shift, but it quickly turned into a gasp as he placed his fingers on your thighs, wrapping around your legs in an intimate embrace as he carries you. Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst forth in anticipation of what was to come.

With your arms wrapped tighter around Taehyun’s shoulders, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. It felt too embarrassing, too shameful to look at your best friend knowing that you were about to cross a line from which there was no turning back. You felt him chuckle as a response and yet, you couldn’t help but cling to him, needing the support and reassurance as he carried you to his bed and laid you down.

You closed your eyes in anticipation of the inevitable, waiting for Taehyun to climb on top and cover your body with his own. But instead of the heavy weight of his frame, you felt a featherlight touch on your knee. Your eyes snapped open, and your gaze met his, the corners of his lips forming into a smirk and his gaze is fixated on you. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks from the sight of him.

Taehyun knelt between your thighs, the fingers on your knee stroking up and down the length of your leg.“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice low and husky in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“I-” you stammered, unable to think straight. “I...please, Taehyun.”

You couldn’t seem to form any coherent words, so you let your eyes plead your case. They met his in a desperate search for an answer, but all you found was his unwavering gaze and a small smile on his lips.

“Do...please,” you whimpered helplessly, losing the battle of wills between you two.

“Please what?”

“Please...” you gasped again, struggling against the overwhelming waves of arousal that seemed to suffocate you.“I just need you,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please, do anything you want with me—just...I want to cum, okay?”

You felt the flush rise to your cheeks at the words you’d just uttered. It was so unlike you, so desperate and needy. But with Taehyun looming above you like that, there was no way you could think straight.

Taehyun laughed then, a husky sound that was filled with amusement and desire. The fingers on your thigh stilled, and he looked down on you with a reassuring gaze.“Don’t worry,” he murmured.“I’ll make you cum as much as you want.”

His hand reached down to your shorts. Your breath was caught in your throat as he tugged the waistband, dragging both your shorts and your underwear down, exposing your inner thighs and core to his hungry gaze. But before you could even register the loss of clothing, Taehyun had grasped your thighs and pushed them open.

“Ah!” you squealed, arching your back from the sudden movement. Your hands flew up to cover yourself, but Taehyun soon had them pinned above your head.

“Be a good girl for me, y/n.” he chuckled as he leaned over you.“Let me get you ready first.”

You squirmed at his words, unable to stop the rising tide of desire within you. But there was only so little you could do as Taehyun started massaging your inner thighs, slowly inching his way up towards your core.

His fingers skimmed across your clit and over your pussy lips, the gentle pressure sending sparks of electricity across your nerves. Your hips arched into his touch with a will of their own, and you could feel the wetness of your arousal coating his fingertips with a growing slickness. He teased your clit with slow circles and tugs, driving the building heat between your legs to an unbearable peak.

“Taehyun,” you whined, unable to contain your pleas any longer.“Please—” your words ended in a broken moan, punctuated by the relentless teasing of his fingers on your clit.

Taehyun smiled, and his eyes never left yours as he leaned down to lick your wetness off his fingers. Your whole body flushed at the sight, and you couldn’t seem to look away from the intimate action of his tongue lapping up the evidence of your arousal.

“Please,” you begged again, losing all composure. “I need you inside me....”

Taehyun hummed, and with a teasing grin, he leaned in closer.“Okay,” he whispered into your ear.“I’m gonna give you exactly what you want. But I promise you, y/n, it’s gonna be so much better than you’ve imagined, so just trust me.”

And before you could say another word, Taehyun shifted his body, lowering himself between your thighs to leave you trembling with anticipation. His tongue flicked out, swiping over the length of your slit and over your clit. You gasped, bucking your hips in desperation as he settled his lips over your core, lapping and sucking on your arousal with a hunger that rivalled your own.

“Oh fuck—fuck! Taehyun...!!” you moaned, your mind reeling from the pleasure coursing through your body. The slick heat of Taehyun’s mouth covered you in waves of your blissful release, and you could only arch your back and succumb to the onslaught of pleasure that he had unleashed on you.

The first orgasm hit you suddenly, and all you could do was grab Taehyun’s hair with a wordless cry. Your pussy clenched with the force of your release, pulsing with an ache that threatened to tear you apart. But Taehyun didn’t let up, not even a bit. His tongue only seemed to grow more eager, his lips sealing tighter around your core as he sucked you dry with the fervour of a starving man.

The second orgasm hit you harder, and this time your voice rang out clear in the quiet of his bedroom. Your hands fell limp to the sides, too spent to do more than writhe under Taehyun’s relentless touch. And still, he wouldn’t let up. Even as your legs began to tremble with fatigue, even as your whole body trembled from the aftershocks of your second release, Taehyun’s fingers and mouth continued their ministrations.

It was more pleasure than you could take, more than your body could bear, and yet you were so desperate for his touch that you couldn’t bring yourself to say stop. All you could do was cling to the bed sheets, your mind a haze of lust and arousal as Taehyun devoured your wet pussy like it was his last meal.

Finally, it was Taehyun who drew back, his breathing heavy and his lips slick with your juices. He sat up, his gaze flicking over your body as if taking stock of what he’d accomplished. You watched him with hazy eyes, still struggling to regain your composure in the face of what you’d experienced.

Taehyun smirked then, satisfaction plain on his expression as he saw the state you were in. He reached up to wipe off his lips, and without a second thought, he pushed two fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean while looking straight into your eyes. A new wave of arousal washes over you at the sight and you could only let out a whimper at the expectations of what's about to come next.

Taehyun turned back to unbuckle his belt, and you watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he tugged down his pants. His hard cock sprang free, and you gasped at the sight before you. Taehyun was big, almost impossibly big, and the throbbing of his cock only served to make you realize why he’d had to prepare you like that first.

A soft laugh escaped Taehyun’s lips as he saw your reaction.“Didn’t expect that, huh?”

You shook your head, unable to voice a response as Taehyun climbed off the bed.

“I’m not exactly carrying any condoms around, I wasn't expecting for this to happen today-” he admitted, his chuckle low and his cheeks a tint of pink from embarrassment.“So...are you okay with this? Just trust me and I'll pull out, I promise-”

You nodded hastily at his words, too desperate for him to make the offer.“I trust you, Taehyun,” you said with a gasp of breath.“I trust you.”

Taehyun smiled at your response, and without a word, he leaned forward to kiss you. His lips were hot on yours, their touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped into his mouth, and Taehyun took advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue in.

He kissed you with an intimacy that was more than enough to drive you wild, and even when he pulled back, he didn’t stop. Instead, he leaned down to remove your bra, his fingers gentle as they traced over your skin and unhooked the clasp at your back. A quiet moan escaped your lips as his fingers brushed over the skin of your back, but it only grew louder when he began massaging your breasts.

“Taehyun—” you whimpered, his name a broken plea on your lips.“Please—I’m—” you couldn’t finish, couldn’t get out the words to express just how desperate you were to have him inside of you. But Taehyun understood all the same.

He positioned himself between your legs again, the tip of his hard cock brushing against the slick of your entrance. You arched your back in anticipation, body trembling from the growing need within you.

“Ready?” Taehyun murmured against your ear, his breath hot on your skin.“Tell me if it hurts or if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nodded, unable to say anything else. Taehyun groaned in response, his body leaning over yours as he began to push himself in slowly. The stretch of his cock was more than enough to make you moan, and you couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped your lips.

“Shit, Y/N!” Taehyun cursed under his breath.“You’re so tight.” He leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and gentle as he continued to push into your core. Your whimpers turned to cries of pleasure as he bottomed out, your whole body trembling from the overwhelming sensations that threatened to consume you.

“Fuck,” Taehyun breathed, his eyes fluttering close for a moment.“Ahh, fuck—” he gasped again, drawing back before pushing into you once more.

And that was it. The thrusts started slow and shallow, but soon grew to deeper and faster thrusts. Your nails dug into Taehyun’s back, and your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him in closer. The waves of pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to drown you in their depths. And all you could do was hold on to Taehyun with everything you had, your lips sealing over his as he fucked you into the bed with everything he had.

Your breathing came in short, desperate gasps as his cock ravaged your wet pussy, your body writhing under him as his thrusts grew deeper and faster. Every movement of his sent sparks of electricity coursing over your skin, every thrust building your need to the breaking point until you could hold on no more. With a loud cry, your body tensed, and your pussy clenched down on Taehyun’s cock with enough force to make him cry out in response.

Taehyun slowed his thrusts to give you a moment’s respite, but even as you felt the aftershocks coursing through your core, he started moving again. His cock began to pound into you harder, deeper, and you couldn’t stop the cries that fell from your lips.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Taehyun groaned, his breaths growing heavy and desperate.

“Y/N, fuck, I—” his thrusts became shorter, and you knew he was close, so close to cumming too. “I can’t—I won’t last much longer. If you want me to pull out—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. “No, Taehyun— I want to feel your cum,” you gasped, your voice broken with need.“I'm on the pill, so please—I want you to fill me up....”

A soft curse escaped Taehyun’s throat, and before you could say anything else, he started rutting into you like an animal. Your whimpers grew louder, your pussy clenching down on him with a force that threatened to suck the cum right out of him. His thrusts grew wilder, deeper, until he let out one final groan and shuddered above you. The warmth of his cum flooded your core, filling you up with his load deep inside you and your own release soon followed in its wake.

Taehyun collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing the breath from your lungs. You didn’t even care, couldn’t even process the overwhelming pleasure that still coursed through you like a raging tide. All you could manage was to cling to Taehyun’s broad shoulders, holding him close as the aftershocks ravaged your core with wave after wave of your release.

And when Taehyun finally rolled over, pulling out of you with a soft grunt of pleasure, you couldn’t do anything but fall limp against the bed.

“Fuck,” Taehyun muttered, his hand reaching up to card through your hair.“That was.....amazing.”

You chuckled into his chest, the movement sending a jolt of pleasure through you as his softening cock slipped from your core.

“You’re...” Taehyun whispered, his fingers brushing over the strands of your hair. His touch was light, gentle, and his words sent shivers down your spine.“I always knew that you were gorgeous but I never knew you could be so beautiful like this. I never knew you could look so cute.”

You smiled at that, his words sending warmth to your chest. You reached up, wrapping your arms around Taehyun’s neck and pulling him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you, and without any prompting, he rolled over until you were lying on his chest with his arms still wrapped around you.

“Can I clean you up?” he offered after a moment, his voice soft and gentle.

You shook your head hastily at that, the idea of being parted from him suddenly becoming unbearable.“No,” you stammered, pulling him closer as if to prevent him from moving.“Just let me stay like this, please.”

Taehyun chuckled at your words, his lips pressing against your hairline.“As long as you want,” he murmured, holding you tighter still.

The room was silent for a long moment then, neither of you doing anything but basking in the warmth of the other’s embrace. But then, suddenly and without warning, you were reminded of the answer he’d given earlier.

“Nothing”, he’d said, his response echoing in your ears like a cold slap to the face.“I like how our friendship is now. I wouldn’t want to change a thing.”

He hadn’t even thought of anything beyond that, hadn’t even considered the possibility of more. It was just you, desperate and shameless. And now—

“Why?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, your body suddenly tensing in Taehyun’s arms. “Why did you say that earlier?” you asked again, turning your head to look up at him.

Taehyun blinked in response, confusion plain on his features.“Say what?”

“That you didn’t want anything to change in our friendship,” you replied, your heart suddenly heavy in your chest.“I thought you—” your voice trailed off, the words too shameful to say aloud.

Taehyun’s expression changed at that, softening into an understanding gaze.“Hey—” he began, his hands smoothing over your back.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, trying to push away from him. “I get it. I guess it was just me feeling this way this whole time.”

But Taehyun didn’t let you go. Instead, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you closer as if trying to keep you from running. “Hey,” he repeated, his lips brushing over your hair.“Look, y/n, I didn’t say that because I didn’t like the idea of being with you.”

You turned your head to him, your brow furrowed with doubt.“Then why did you?”

Taehyun sighed, his arms pulling you in tighter still. “Because I didn’t know how you felt at the time,” he replied.“And I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by forcing something you didn’t want.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing,

“And even if you did, I didn’t know if you’d want to stay like that in the future, or if...if it was just a one-time thing.” His voice was soft with his words, reassuring despite the uncertainty behind them.“But I’ve always liked you,” he continued.“I’ve always wanted to do this with you, if it was what you wanted.”

You were silent for a moment at that, your mind reeling with the words he’d just said. And then, finally, you smiled up at Taehyun, relief and happiness flooding your chest at the simple reassurance of his words.“I...” you began, the words threatening to spill from your lips.“I—” and then, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Oh my god, I can't believe I actually fucked my best friend,” you laughed out, your head falling on his chest.

Taehyun chuckled then, his whole body shaking with the movement.“Well, yeah,” he grinned, pulling you closer to his body. “You did.” He paused for a moment, his lips kissing over your forehead.

“We’ll deal with the consequences later. For now... let's stay Iike this for a little longer.” he trailed off, his hold on you only growing tighter.

“Okay,” you whispered, smiling to yourself as your words muffled against his chest. And as the warmth of Taehyun’s body wrapped around you, you couldn’t help but smile at the simple intimacy of the moment. It wasn’t just a game now. It was real. And despite all the unknowns that still lay ahead, there was one thing you were sure of: Taehyun would be there through it all. He would stay with you, no matter what. And that was enough to make you smile, enough to make your heart flutter with a newfound happiness.

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

taglist: @tyunzznluvr @interestellear-blog @hyunelixbun @dawngyu @tubasmiracle @no1likemybbgcharlie I hope y'all like this one too!! 🫶

[bloodlineslut]

The Law of Obsession (Ch. 2) | Roman Reigns

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! OC

Warnings: none

Summary: Laila meets a new friend at the cafe who has ties to Roman.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: MM MM MMM. I can only imagine what Roman sounds like over the phone when it's just you and him talking. Like warm butter.

Laila was jolted out of her sleep by the blaring sound of her alarm, blindly feeling around in her bed to turn off the incessant noise that made its way into her dream.

Her dream.

Her eyes shot open, trying to think back and remember all of it, but failing, only remembering bits and pieces.

She was sitting curled up on his lap, all of her weight resting on his firm thigh. His warm hands rubbing up and down her smooth legs that she just shaved and exfoliated.

Laila was the only one paying attention to the action movie they were watching. Engrossed by the film’s plot, she blindly shoved popcorn in her mouth from the large bowl Roman made for them.

Although it seemed like Roman was also watching the movie, his mind was occupied with her beauty and aura.

He couldn’t help but stare at the side of her pretty face, seeing that dimple appear every time she moved her mouth.

She could feel his stare on her and turned to look at him. “Roman! You’re not watching the movie…” She whined, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers.

“I am babygirl. I promise.” He says, stroking his beard with his other hand.

He genuinely smiles for the first time in a long time, knowing that he was her protector.

Knowing that she was his.

All Laila could remember was that they were curled up in a mansion and watching The Fast & The Furious.

She zoned out in thought, a goofy smile creeping on her face.

“Ugh. Girl stand up, you just met him yesterday.” She tells herself as she sits up in her full size bed, adorned with pink and white sheets, pillowcases, a comforter, and fuzzy blanket.

She was so glad it was Saturday now, but she still wanted to get some homework and a little more studying done.

Going back to the café popped into her mind.

Grabbing her phone from under her pillow, she sees what time it is.

11:24 AM.

Having a little pep in her step today, she decides to actually take time to get ready and maybe pick out a sporty, but cute outfit.

The weather app said it was 73 degrees out so she could pull out the shorts today.

Opening the doors to her color coordinated closet, she goes to the black and white section. She reaches for the hanger that holds a black dri-fit tank top and pulls out black running shorts from her drawers. Then, she decides to do a white sports bra that had the criss-cross straps in the back for a pop of color.

After doing her daily morning routine that consisted of washing her face, doing skincare, and brushing her teeth, now she could start with makeup.

Before she could start though, she remembered her playlist wasn’t on yet.

Doing her makeup was pretty simple, as she liked to keep it pretty natural.

But the new song that began playing made her think of him.

She didn’t even have time to start fantasizing about what kind of boyfriend he would be, as her mom’s phone call pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Hey momma!”

“Hi my baby! How are you? I didn’t hear from you last night…” Her mother’s loving tone sounds through the speaker.

“Oh, yea sorry mom. I was really tired and forgot to call you.” She quickly makes up a lie, hoping it wouldn’t turn into a big thing.

“Okay…I just want to know that you’re safe. Your father is at work but he says he loves you, and we miss you!” Laila could just hear the tender smile in her mother’s voice.

“I miss you and dad too!”

“So, have you made any friends up there? From your classes or anything?” Laila picked up her phone and carried it with her while she walked to the kitchen in her apartment.

Setting the phone down on the counter, she continues the conversation. “Um…no not really. But mom, I’m also the type of person where someone has to talk to me first.” She reaches up to the cabinet, grabbing a glass to put her iced coffee into.

“I know honey. Maybe you could find a club for something that you like? That’s always a good place to start. Or go to a football game!” Her mother throws suggestions out there.

Going to a football game honestly didn’t even cross her mind, until now.

“I would love to go to a game, but I can’t go by myself. That’s lame, momma.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sure you’ll find someone to go with you…” Her mother says, trying to keep her hopes up.

“Yea hopefully…”

“Alright, well honey I have to head to the grocery store to get some things for dinner tonight. Your father and I love you, so much.” She hears her mom blow a kiss through the phone.

“I love ya’ll too. Send me pics of what you make too!”

“Okay my baby. Good bye and be safe.”

“Bye momma.” She hangs up the phone and looks at her counter for a minute.

Before Laila knew it, she finished her glass of coffee and rinsed it out, setting it in the sink. She went to her bedroom to put her black Nike’s on and to grab her backpack and car keys.

Arriving at the café, there were definitely more people there than any other time. She spotted an empty table near the counter and walked to it, sitting down.

Her to-do list had a few things on it, so she told herself that she would finish everything so the rest of her day was free. The first thing was to take a syllabus quiz for her finance class.

Knocking that out in about 15 minutes, she decided to reward herself with a treat.

Since she already had coffee this morning, she was thinking of just eating one of the café’s signature muffins.

Luckily, the line was going down, so she closed her laptop and got in line behind another black girl.

“Hey, you go to UMiami?” The girl in front of her turns around and nicely asks her.

“Yea I do! You go there too?”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “Some of my friends go there, though. I’m Naomi, by the way.” Naomi reaches her hand out to shake Laila’s.

“Hi, I’m Laila!” They smile at each other, shaking hands.

“So Laila, help a girl out. What you get when you come here?”

Laila laughed, happy that she finally met someone that she could potentially be friends with.

Other than Roman.

“Lemme see. Their coffee is really good, but I already had some. But the muffins look good though, so I think I want that.” She points out the 3 different flavors of muffins the café offered.

“Blueberry sugar, chocolate chip,” Naomi gasps. “And strawberry?! I gotta get that one.” She claps her hands together, making Laila laugh.

“You’re so funny!”

“Girl, it be my husband I swear. He’s so silly and I think it rubs off on me.”

“You’re married? Wow, it must be nice…” She half joked as they moved up in the line.

“That’s what they tell you at first. Then they just get on your nerves…” She paused. “No, I love my pookie, though. His name is Jimmy.” Naomi informs her new friend.

As they told each other more things about themselves, they finally got to the counter and placed their orders. Naomi got her strawberry muffin and a lemonade, while Laila just got a blueberry sugar muffin.

She told Naomi that if she didn’t have anywhere to be, she could sit and eat with her at the table.

“Do you have homework and stuff?” Naomi asked as she took a bite of the muffin, moaning slightly at the taste.

“Yea, but thankfully it’s not a lot.”

“What’s your major?”

“Accounting! I graduate next spring.” Laila takes a bite of her muffin, now halfway eaten. She loved the taste of the sugar crystals that were on top.

“Oh you’re good with numbers.” Naomi said the thing that everyone always says when they find out Laila’s major.

“Oh my gosh, that’s what Roman said too.” Laila muttered the last part of that sentence.

“That’s what who said?” The muffin that was on its way to Naomi’s mouth stopped mid air, as she raised an eyebrow.

“This guy I met yesterday. It was actually here too.” Laila explained to Naomi, thinking back to her and Roman’s encounter yesterday.

“What’s his name again?” Naomi wanted to make sure she heard correctly. She could’ve swore Laila said Roman.

“Roman.”

Naomi’s eyes bulged damn near out of her sockets.

Laila furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at her reaction. “Wait, you know him?”

Naomi looked around in disbelief. “Girl, that’s my husband’s cousin! That’s crazy. You met Roman Roman? Like, he’s tall with a man bun and a beard?” Naomi moved her hands, modeling all three descriptions as they came out of her mouth.

“Yes! He’s really nice. I wasn’t expecting that to happen yesterday…” Laila looked away in thought and Naomi was glad because if only this girl knew.

“Jimmy ain’t gon’ believe this.” Naomi was already planning to tell him as soon as she got home. Jimmy always said Roman was gonna die single because he could never keep just one woman.

“Well, did he give you his number? I’m nosey.” Naomi was very well aware of what Roman did under the table for a living, but they all swore to keep it a secret.

“No. He actually gave me his law firm’s business card.” Laila pulls it out of her wallet, showing it to Naomi.

She takes it from her hands. “Yep, that’s him.” She turns the card over, seeing and recognizing Roman’s handwriting.

“Um Laila?” Naomi turns the card around, showing Laila the back. “Did you see this part?”

Laila takes the card back, looking closely at the number, clearly in handwriting and not typed.

“Is this his cell phone number?” Laila asks with wide eyes.

“Mmhmmm.” Naomi sips her lemonade, looking around the café. “Speaking of numbers, we should exchange.”

Laila can’t believe she didn’t see this until now. She must’ve been so engrossed with his presence that she didn’t notice him write it on the card before handing it to her.

Naomi handed her her phone to put in the contact info, then she texted the number so Laila could save it.

Throughout the rest of their conversation, Laila tried to pay attention, but her mind kept running back to Roman.

‘Should I call him first?’

‘Wait, no I don’t wanna seem desperate.’

‘But how is he gonna call me? He doesn’t have my number…’

“Laila you ain’t hear anything I just said.” Naomi catches her red handed.

Her mouth opens then closes in shame. “I’m sorry girly.”

Naomi gives a smug smile. “It’s okay, I know you over there thinking about your man,” Laila’s jaw drops, making Naomi giggle. “I gotta leave anyway. Jimmy talking about some he wants to get food even though he’s supposed to be on a diet.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh, okay.” Laila chuckles slightly.

Naomi stands up, gathering her things before bending down to give Laila a goodbye hug.

“Text or call me sometime! Maybe we can do double dates in the future?” She winks at Laila and they both laugh.

Laila just shakes her head, seeing Naomi get in her car.

Forcing herself to finish her other 3 assignments in record time, she lets out a deep breath turning in the last one. She gathers all of her things, shoving them in her backpack and throwing away her trash.

Walking outside, she catches herself looking around for a tall man with man bun and beard. She wouldn’t be lying if she wasn’t a little bummed at not running into him again.

But at least she has a girl friend now.

Once in her car, she checks the time.

3:25 PM.

Driving to Cava, she gets her usual bowl before making her way back to her apartment.

A couple of hours later, she was laying in her bed under the comfort of her fuzzy blankets, watching TV. The soft glow of the television illuminated her room, but she wasn’t really paying much attention to it.

Her phone began to buzz on top of her nightstand.

Expecting it to be her mom, she instinctively reaches to pick it up, but was met with an unknown number.

Her brows knitted together in confusion, but the thought that it could be Roman crossed her mind and she hurriedly swiped to answer it.

He was the first one to speak. “Laila.”

Her stomach immediately did that flip thing at the sound of his voice—deep, smooth, but laced with an unreadable, underlying emotion.

Oh, that deep sultry voice made her stomach do that flip thing.

“Yeah? Roman?”

“Hi.” He says with slight hesitation, testing the waters out.

“Hi.” She echoed and smiled, feeling like a school girl that had a crush on a boy in her class.

“So you met Naomi today?”

“Oh, um—yea I did! She told me her husband and you are cousins.” She says, fiddling with the pink bonnet that was on her head.

Roman let out a breathy chuckle. “Yea, Jimmy and his brother Jey. We grew up together.” The fondness of talking about his family was evident in his voice. Everyone always thought that they were triplets wherever they went.

“Aw, ya’ll must be really close?”

“Oh yeah. They get on my nerves, but I love them though.” This makes Laila laugh, warming Roman’s heart at hearing that joyous sound.

“Yea, I can tell. Naomi talks about Jimmy like he worships the ground she walks on.” Laila thinks back to when Naomi was telling her about their wedding day.

There was a moment of silence between the two.

“Yeah. When you have something real with someone, you hold on to it.” His words revered through her ear as she idly played with the design on her blanket.

There was an unspoken meaning behind the words Roman was saying.

“…That’s a good way to put it.” Laila breathed out, her heart racing and thumping in her chest.

Roman could sense that she was nervous. Hell, he was too.

But only a little.

“Well. I know you probably have some things you need to do so…I won’t keep you long.” She could hear the ruffles of papers in the background.

“Are you still at work?”

“I am, but I’m about to drive home.” He smirks even though she can’t see it.

“Oh, okay. Well…I hope you make it home safe.” She says sweetly, really meaning her words.

“I will. Can I call you tomorrow?” He asks her.

Laila quickly nods her head, but she realizes he can’t see that. “Yes! That’s fine.”

Her excitement amused Roman. “Okay. Good night Laila.”

“Good night…” She echoed and the call disconnected.

She leaned back against her bed’s headboard and just stared at the ceiling, finally feeling like she was going to really like it here.

taglist!: @duhitzkay380 @emotionalhottiee @minsingular @potatosackk @vebner37 if you would like to be tagged, just comment!!

[sweetiemiller]

MARRIED AT FIRST SIGHT. kind of.

Joel Miller!AU x Reader.

hi again! so im doing it! ive read over it a million times and if there’s any mistakes please do forgive me. but here’s the full chapter of the start of my spiteful fic lmao.

kidding. im actually really excited to try something different and being embraced by a lot of you has been so great. so thank you everyone who sent a nice word or even just liked the post!

this will probably NSFW at some point. im still deciding when and how it’ll happen in the story but it’s going to be a lot of fun. the POV’s will jump around from chapter to chapter.

thanks to @highinmiamiii sending me the fic i was looking for! thank you! like i said before this fic is heavily inspired by https://www.tumblr.com/tokkiwrites/771944052123959296/game-show-hostjoel-miller-x-contestant-f

and the enjoyment of au!writing. it’s so freeing and let’s us explore characters in different ways. everyone please go read this story, it’s so good and they deserve every single bit of support.

ill stop yappin now and just post it!!

warnings— swearing. referring to killing Tommy Miller (will happen a lot), little bit of fluff for now. future warnings to come!

enjoy—

Chapter 1.

Joel’s POV—

Tommy Miller is a dead man. Joel thinks as he promises to whoever and whatever is above and below that he will personally kill him with his bare hands.

Those same bare hands that are clasped together so tight behind his back as he stands at the top of the aisle. His eyes were boring into Tommy’s who is currently standing up from his seat in the front row with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Yeah. He’s going to kill him.

The lights and the cameras are starting to make the skin on his neck prickle. The people behind the camera’s making him feel tense as his eyes flicker around the room.

He can feel jaw ticking and clenching as his eyes keep looking around the room and catching a few of the eyes of seeing the unknown bride to be’s family are staring at him too. Looking… well, friendly enough. For now anyway.

He can see their eyes scanning him.

Up and down, up and down.

From his slightly greying hair that is just sprinkling through his thick coarse hair. Right down to the black patent dress shoes on his feet that a woman named Jane from production had brought him along with this black three piece suit.

He thinks he looks good. But—

He doesn’t really care and if he was asked to give an honest answer right at this second he’d say exactly that. However, for the first time in a long time he willing to admit that he doesn’t look that rough around the edges.

Which is good, because in about 30 seconds his new wife is about to walk down the aisle.

Not legally of course. But for the sake of the show, he’s contracted to act like it is.

26 seconds.

Why Tommy thought that signing him onto goddamn Married At First Sight he’ll never understand. But the promise of a new Harley-Davidson Sportster Iron 883 and 60% of whatever income from the promotion the construction company will get from being on the show is more than enough to go along with it.

For now anyway.

14 seconds.

He just hopes whoever you are, you’re not one of those absolutely insane people who go on reality television just to cause drama. Because he will walk, cameras and contracts be damned.

He’ll buy his own Harley.

If he’s lucky he’ll get matched with someone who wants to promote their business as well and maybe they can come to some sort of agreement about this whole thing.

9 seconds.

Because who actually goes on a television show to look for love? Who genuinely believes that anyone could even fall in love under these conditions. Cameras. TV therapists. A group full of people who are desperate for their 10 minutes of fame.

It’s just not realistic.

5 seconds.

Joel snaps out his thoughts as he spots Tommy giving him a look. A look that Joel knows means, ‘Dude’, his eyes flicker back and forward before Joel realises what he’s saying. You’re coming down the aisle—

1 second.

Joel hears the doors cracking open and the music starting as soon as his eyes meet the huge white double doors at the end of the room. His hands clenching again as he keeps his focus on the door that’s opening and revealing who he is going to be stuck with for as long as he can handle in this absolutely ridiculous situation his brother has landed him in.

He see’s you walking through the doors. And he genuinely feels his breath get caught in his throat as he see’s your face for the first time.

Your eyes almost immediately meet his as you walk into the wedding hall with who he presumes is your mother. An older woman who’s eyes don’t even attempt to look at him, focused on you.

You look nervous. Terrified even.

Which, to his annoyance, makes him feel something in his chest as he watches you slowly making your way down to him.

He has to admit to himself. You’re genuinely beautiful.

And with that thought, all of a sudden he feels himself starting to panic. He realises wasn’t really expecting to find you attractive. He was fully preparing himself to be putting on his best face and foot forward during this process. His mind focused on that moment he has his first ride of his new Harley-Davidson the entire time.

But now, he’s going to have to focus on that damn bike to stop himself from doing anything goddamn stupid.

The closer you get to the bottom of the aisle, the harder he’s having to hold back a glare that is itching to aim straight for Tommy. But he doesn’t. Because he knows his pain in the ass little brother is going to have an even bigger shit-eating grin on his face now that he’s seen you.

It’s not until you’re kissing your assumed mother on the cheek and whispering something to her that he finally see’s you up close for the first time. His eyes feeling like they’re bouncing around his head as he takes you in.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph— he’s fucked.

The hair. The eyes. The nose. The goddamn lips. The white dress.

It’s not at all what he was picturing. He was fully imagining you and expecting you to go all out and look like princess cake topper. The show is paying for everything after all.

But no, you’re dressed in a long flowing silk dress. With little cap sleeves and the front of your dress making your tits look round and soft—

He has to stop.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything. But you’re already beating him to it with the sweetest voice he’s ever heard.

“I like your suit,” you say, the words falling from your lips like they were dragged out of you. Which admittedly— is very cute.

He lets a short puff of air escape his nose as he doesn’t quite laugh but, almost an amused look crosses his face as he looks down at you.

“I like your dress,” he says back, quietly but loud enough for you to hear. Or that least he hopes you do. Because he does like your dress, he likes it a lot actually, which surprises him.

He’s not a man to even care about dresses. Or anything stupid like that. A woman is a woman, he doesn’t care what they’re dressed in. But this dress on you? He’s struggling. Badly.

He watches you blush a little as you look down at your dress, running a hand over the front of it. The silk moving under your finger tips, almost hypnotising him for a moment before your soft laugh breaks him out his trance.

“Thanks. They gave my mom free reign in the dress shop,” you say with a soft, nearly genuine smile as you jut your thumb over your shoulder towards the woman who was walking you down the aisle now sitting in the front row behind you.

Ah, so he was right.

Joel smiles a little as he nods his head at your mom, being respectful for as long as he can handle this experiment.

Oh God he’s going to have to actually interact with your family.

He looks back at you, watching as your other hand is clutching your bouquet of sunflowers so tightly he’s actually a bit worried the stems might snap in half right here.

“She has good taste,” he says as his eyes travel back up to your face. He feels something twist in his chest again as he sees how nervous you look, and before he can open his mouth to give you just a little reassurance.

Knowing that the cameras and lights are probably making you just as nervous as him, someone clears their throat. Making you jump a little as his head turns almost too quickly to the sound tensing up a little until he see’s it’s just the very real officiant for this very real wedding.

God, what is he doing?

He hears her asking the both of you if you’re ready to begin and he just nods. He looks down at you and taking the chance to grab your free hand just right there. Temping him already.

He smiles a little bit as he sees the warmth spread on your cheeks and your almost wide-eyed facial expressions looking up at him.

Beautiful. He can’t help but let the thought sit at the front of his brain for a moment.

“You ready?,” he whispers to you, his own eyes going a little wide too from how fast his heart rate is going as he tightens his grip slightly as he watches you nod and breath out a soft, yeah.

He nods back as he turns back to the wedding officiant, taking a deep breath as he tries to focus on what the woman is starting to say, her very real speech.

Oh sweet Jesus, he needs to read the vows that Tommy wrote him.

This is going to be a nightmare.

[celiababy]

Ain't Right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You have a major (borderline obsessive) crush on Joel, and you're on a mission to fuck him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, cum eating, name calling, kinda mean Joel, alcohol, vomiting, an extremely brief mention of suicide

Disclaimer: I lowkey don't know the logistics of the show so if some things are wrong please look over it I'm just trying to write smut about Joel Miller godbless.

Ain't Right part 2

Ever since that tortured old man showed up in Jackson, your life hasn't been the same.

Tommy's older brother, and your absolute undoing.

When Joel Miller rode into town, it was like everything suddenly made sense. The skies got clearer, the air smelled better, and the birds even chirped their love songs louder.

Everything about him drew you in; his cold demeanor, stoic face, tired eyes—but gentle around those he cared about, which was only a few select people.

And you certainly were not one of those select people.

Joel didn't know what to think about you.

To him, you were odd. Yes, you were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in Jackson, but he felt distance between the two of you was essential.

He felt this way because he knew.

Joel wasn't oblivious to your stares; he might've been an old man, but he remembered the laws of attraction fairly well.

He didn't like the thought of you liking him.

You were young, attractive, and had plenty of age-appropriate prospects just begging for your attention. Every boy in Jackson wanted a piece of you—but you only had eyes for Joel.

He was getting old and tired, ain't no reason why you should be so fond over him.

He also didn't like that you made your attraction so obvious. It made people whisper, and Joel about had enough teasing from Tommy.

"You gonna let that young thing jump your bones or what, Joel?" Is an example of the few things his brother would chirp at him whenever you were around and had eyes on him like he was a target.

So, all things considered, it's no surprise when Joel is reluctant to make a supply run with you.

You had begged Tommy to let you go out and finally start pulling your weight, carefully adding that Joel would be a great teacher for a first timer like yourself.

You stand near the truck, squeezing the straps of your backpack while watching Joel and Tommy whisper to themselves a couple feet away.

"You can't find anyone else?" Joel growls lowly, narrowing his eyes at his insufferable brother who he’d really like to strangle right now.

"Are you seriously scared of a twenty year old girl, Joel?" Tommy asked exasperatedly, throwing his arm out in disbelief. "It'll take two hours tops, what the hell are you so scared of?" Joel is exhaling through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw in complete disgruntlement.

"You know what the hell I'm scared of Tommy—goddammit," He gets in his brother’s face before realizing you’re still watching them.

He takes a moment to back up and calm down, breathing out through his nose.

"I do not need this town thinkin' I am encouraging this girls...feelin's." He murmurs lowly.

Tommy rolls his eyes before shoving Joel's backpack into his chest.

"Just don't fuck her, Joel. How hard could it be?"

Joel watches as Tommy turns his back and walks away, leaving just you and him.

Joel had spent a lot of time making sure he was never in a situation alone with you—now he was about to be your unsupervised mentor.

He feels a groan try and crawl its way out his throat, but he pushes it down.

He starts walking to the truck, not even looking at you as he passes and yanks the driver side door open with more force than necessary.

"Let's make this quick." He grunts out, climbing inside.

You do the same, only with a little bit more enthusiasm. ***

The trip is a complete bust.

Joel barely paid you any attention, no matter how many flirty gestures you made at him.

You'd say something remotely suggestive and he'd either glare at you, or just flat out ignore you.

But you were relentless. Giving up on him wasn't in the cards for you, no matter how many judgmental looks he casted your way.

You guys had been driving back to town for around five minutes; Joel has kept his eyes firmly on the road in fear of you sparking a conversation with him.

But you do anyways.

You turn your body to face him in the bench seat, your eyes cascading down his breath-taking side profile.

You zoned in on the gray patches of his beard, and how his face had the remnants of a long, unforgiving life weaved into his wrinkles and scars.

You're momentarily rendered speechless by his looks before he side-eyes you.

"What?" He huffs out, not being able to handle your intense stare any longer.

"Why not?"

A beat.

"What?" He asks again, his brows furrowing together, an annoyed and confused expression painting his features.

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Joel physically winces at your language, scoffing in what looks to be disgust as he starts shaking his head.

"We're not starting this." He snaps firmly, a tone in his voice that you haven't heard before.

Completely disregarding his words, you start.

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" Joel groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is it because there's someone else?" He's close to snapping. "Is it because you can't get it up? I heard thats a problem with guys your age-"

Joel slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. He shoves the truck into park before turning to face you, a scary look on his face.

"I am not going to fuck you--Christ almighty," Joel raises his voice at you.

You're staring at him, wide eyes and lips parted in surprise. You weren't really expecting this.

"you're bustin' my fuckin' balls, Look kid," He starts up again, this time with a softer tone. "M'about 40 years too old for you-"

You cut him off with a murmur. "36, I did the math."

"Same damn thing," he snaps, shaking his head. "Point is—you don't needa be wastin' your time with me; there are plenty boys your age that will satisfy your...you."

You scoff in his face but try to disguise it by clearing your throat.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joel," You start, a sad smile spreading across your lips. "S'just sex." You say with a shrug, blush coating your cheeks because now your mind is imagining sex with him.

He stays silent and looks away from you, closing his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

That urges you to say more.

"I won't tell anyone," You're practically whispering, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Joel's heart cinches in his chest at your words, mostly because he can tell you're being so genuine.

Why the hell did you like him so much? He just couldn’t understand it.

But he can't entertain this any longer because he knows if he did, he'd give into you.

"I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth." Joel says in a strikingly even and calm tone, putting the truck into drive and continuing back.

He's eerily silent, and so is the rest of the trip because you're too dejected to speak.

Eventually, you both arrive home and you're fast to get out of the truck.

You slam the door and keep your head down as you walk away, snow crunching beneath your boots.

Joel takes his time, watching you storm off with tired eyes.

He feels bad for being so rough on you, but he figured it was the only way to get you to stop liking him.

Tommy walks up, a concerned look on his face as he looks back between you and Joel.

"Guessin' you didn't fuck her."

***

Nobody had seen you in days.

The pain of rejection had you in a mental place that you had never experienced before.

No one has ever denied you—ever.

The situation was 100x worse considering you actually liked Joel, and he wasn't just another toy to play with.

Joel figured his life would get easier with you not around, and it kinda did in some aspects.

But he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt slowly eating at him like a parasite.

He'd been cruel to you in the way he went about things, and he felt bad.

Had he really broken your heart? He didn't know you liked him that much.

He sits in his living room, contemplating how to go about this entirely fucked up situation.

He debates making amends with you, apologizing and rejecting you again but in a gentler way.

He deliberates on his plan of action while nursing a glass of whiskey before he's interrupted by three bangs on his front door, followed by a screeching: "JOEL"

He mutters a 'what the fuck' under his breath, walking to the door and picking his 9mil up on the way.

His eyes widen when he sees you-standing there in all your glory.

It's the middle of winter and snowing like hell, yet you're wearing shorts and a tank top with a beer bottle in your hand.

"Jesus, kid-what the fuck," Joel ushers you inside quickly, taking his big jacket off the coatrack and draping it over you.

He also tosses his gun to the side, obviously you were no threat.

"You tryin' to get frostbit? Christ," he's swearing and muttering profanities as he guides you over to the couch, now basically swaddling you in blankets.

You've never been inside his house before, only ever walked passed it a few times. It smells like him.

You, however, smell like alcohol and bad decisions.

Joel picked up on how drunk you were the minute you stumbled through the door. He takes the bottle from your hand and sets it aside somewhere, glaring at you like how a mad parent would.

"The hell are you doin' out in the snow like that? Fuckin' death wish or somethin'?"

His words are kinda fuzzy in your ears, you're so drunk that you barely even register them.

An unprompted giggle spills from your lips as you shake your head at him.

"It's not snowing silly," You chide, making him out to be an idiot when, in actuality, it's a damn blizzard outside.

He knows from that statement alone that you are way off your rocker tonight.

"How much have ya had to drink, kid?" Joel asks, raking a hand through his graying hair.

"Don't call me kid," You snap, a quick flash of anger in your expression. "M'not a kid."

Joel rolls his eyes so hard that he probably caused a tsunami on the other side of the world.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What are you doin’ here?” He asks exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his jaw while looking at your trembling figure.

There’s a long pause before you answer. You just got distracted by his big brown eyes.

“Jus’ wanted to say hi.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from his face.

“Say hi?” He reiterates, looking at you like you’ve actually lost your mind.

You probably have.

After a moment, Joel can’t help but chuckle in disbelief, letting his body lean back against the couch.

The absurdity of it all turned humorous to him.

Here you are, sitting in his living room, practically nude with only his coat and blankets protecting your modesty, having just trekked through the snow all for what? To say hey?

You’re still sitting there, motionless and trying to remember how to breathe because his laughing face has your heart lighting off fireworks.

“Fuckin’ hell—hi.” Is all he says, turning his head to the side to look at you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile like a dope at him, so extremely happy to be there in his company.

But the alcohol in your system is fighting you, and you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“S’it cool if I say the nigh?” You slur, falling vertically on the couch, your head crashing onto Joel’s thigh.

You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his jeans and Joel is just about to gently push you off, but he stops himself.

You look so comfortable and so at peace that Joel can’t do anything except stare at you.

Your cheek is slightly smushed, your lips are parted, your eyes are shut and don’t plan on opening—it’s insane to him how at home you looked.

Like you belonged here, head rested on his lap.

Fuck.

He was fucked this time.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, he fixes the blankets on top of you so you’re fully covered, and sits there with you the entire night.

He’s really gone soft.

***

When morning comes, you’re first to wake up, accompanied by a splitting headache.

You don’t even notice how Joel’s hand had fallen onto your waist some time during the night because you’re too busy making a b-line for the bathroom.

You chuck your guts up into the toliet, clutching the porcelain and groaning out in pain.

Joel wakes up to the sound of your hurling, momentarily disoriented before he remembers last nights events.

He’s quick to come to your aid in the bathroom, wasting no time gathering your hair in his fist to get it out of your face.

"S'right, get it all out," He murmurs out encouragingly, seemingly unfazed by the disheveled sight of you.

You’re too sick to be embarrassed, that’ll come later surely.

He sits on the wall of the tub as he continues holding your hair back, yawning every now and then like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

Eventually, by the mercy of God, you get it all out of your system and slump up against the wall.

“M’sorry,” You immediately apologize, figuring that is the only right move in this situation.

“Don’t be. Been through plenty'a that in my day.”

His words are uncharacteristically reassuring and you find yourself taken back by them.

You soon realize this is probably just the hazy morning Joel, the Joel where he isn't worried about anything except coffee and breakfast—like everything wrong in his life is put on the back burner for this short minute in time.

“I’ll get you some water and Advil, sit tight.” He grunts before standing up on his feet, knees popping as he walks out.

You watch as he leaves, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Aside from the vomit part, you could get used to this.

You've never seen him so...domestic. His hair was all messy, his voice was raspy, he had that morning haze over his features that you felt so honored to witness.

You suddenly felt compelled to look at your own appearance, hopping to your feet and looking in the dirty mirror.

You resist the urge to audibly gasp at your reflection, opting for a disgusted look instead.

Your hair is a rats nest, your clothes are a mess, and your mascara has rubbed off in black smudge all over the skin around your eyes.

In a desperate attempt to look at least semi-presentable, you wash your face with water and comb through your hair with your fingers.

The idea that Joel had seen you looking like that was making your stomach churn again.

Before you can grovel about it any longer, he rounds the corner with a glass of water and little brown pills in his hand.

“Here,” He says softly, handing you the water and tilting the pills into your open palm. “Take these ‘n drink all that water and ya should get to feelin’ better.”

You do as he says, swallowing the Advil in one go before taking a big sip to wash it down.

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, where your tank top strap has fallen. No doubt from all that vigorous throwing up you were doing moments ago.

Without thinking, his fingers graze your forearm before bringing the strap back up to its correct position, clearing his throat in the process.

A beat of silence falls over the both of you.

You’re gobsmacked by the complete nonchalance of his touch, staring at him with your mouth slightly open in shock.

“What?” He asks defensively, his tone pointed.

You look between him and your shoulder strap, then slowly move to set your water down.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck?”

“Goddammit—” Joels cursing before you can even finish saying the last word in your sentence.

He turns away from you, probably the fastest you’ve seen anyone turn in their life, and walks towards his room with an accelerating pace.

He shakes his head in disbelief all the way down the hall, pivoting on his heel to duck into his bedroom.

You follow him, not really fazed by how he completely refused to answer your question, though you didn’t think he would anyway.

Before you can step foot into the threshold of his room, Joel walks out, causing you to back up.

He shoves a stack of clothes in your direction, looking down at you with a frustrated face. “Put these clothes on and go home.”

You look down, realizing he was letting you borrow a sweater and jeans of his so you didn’t die walking back to your house from the cold.

Your heart warms at this thoughtfulness.

Without wasting any time, you take the clothes from his hands, smiling happily. “Can I keep them?”

“Why the hell would you wanna keep my clothes?” He’s got that confused/angry look on his face as he asks, and you have to suppress a giggle at the sight of it.

You bring the pieces of fabric up to your nose and inhale, humming as you breathe out again. “They smell like you.”

“Christ,” Joel beings his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Fine, do whatever. Just hurry up and change, jesus,"

Ever the tease, you set down his clothes and begin to lift your tank top like you planned to change right in front of him.

Joel's hands shoot out to stop you, a 'don't try me,' look on his face.

"Put them on over your clothes," Joel says sternly, watching the way you sigh because you weren't fast enough in lifting your tank top off.

However, you sieze the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's hands are holding yours down, so you work to intertwine your fingers, invading his space by stepping forward.

"Or, you could take my clothes off," You purr, your chest now flush with his torso.

Joel exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried deciding how he was going to get out of this situation.

But then he paused.

Looking down at you now, so eager and wide eyed, made him wonder.

If he fucked you, and made you realize it wasn't what you were probably imagining in your head, maybe then you'd finally leave him alone.

He would just...pretend to be awful at sex.

(Even though it had been so long and he wasn't sure if he'd actually need to 'pretend' anymore.)

There's a long silence that drags out between the both of you.

Your stomach is doing flips because it's looking like he's finally going to agree.

His resolve cracks and Joel can't do anything but sigh in defeat.

Slowly, Joel pulls you back into his room, closing the door behind you both.

Time is moving in slow motion.

You can't believe it's finally happening.

He guides you back until the back of your knees hit his bed, prompting you to sit down on it.

"I'm only going to do this once," Joel's voice is uncharacteristically low and calm, and it has your core tightening.

You nod in acknowledgement, waiting to see what he's going to do next.

With care, he pushes your shoulder down so you're laying on your back. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks, brown eyes searching yours.

"Have I not made it obvious?" You quip, a giggle following shortly after.

Joel only shakes his head before his fingers latch around the fabric of your shorts, pulling them down and off your legs.

"S'pose you have." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck.

You're vibrating with excitement and you repeat what you tried earlier, only this time succeeding with taking your top off.

Of course, you're not wearing a bra.

Joel realizes in that moment that he bit off way more than he could chew.

He hasn't seen breast that weren't on a soggy piece of paper in at least a few years, and yours--well, his cock stood no chance.

You hear him swallow, watching as he can't seem to stop staring at your chest.

Realizing that he might need a little encouragement to start speeding things along, you smile up at him and whisper, "touch me Joel".

Yeah, screw this. His plan of pretending to be bad was now entirely forgotten—he was going to do what he wanted, so help him god.

He huffs out a curse before sliding a hand up your torso, stopping once he's fully cupped one of your breasts in one hand. He kneads it like dough while using his other hand to disappear under your panties.

A choked moan erupts from your lips once you feel his fingers brush along your clit, rubbing around and spreading your slick around all too slowly.

"haven't even done anythin' yet and you're already fuckin' soaked..." He murmurs really to just himself, his eyes casting down to watch as he rips your underwear off impatiently.

"M'always like this whenever you're around," you mewl to spur him on, spreading your legs wider.

"Oh you are, huh?" Joel repeats back, the tiniest bit of cruelty in his tone that makes you shiver.

You nod, bucking your hips into his hand desperately.

"don't get why you like an old man like me, s'gross." His tone is flat but it's clear he's teasing by the way he curls his fingers inside of you. He's not really expecting a response, but you feel compelled.

You lurch forward, gasping at the feeling. "I really like you," You rush out breathlessly. "I'd do anything you wanted me to." You say earnestly as you stare into his eyes, loving what you're seeing.

Joel remembers when you told him that the first time, his heart cinching the same way it did then.

Joel is at war with himself. One side of him is screaming that this whole situation is fucked up and he is better off without you.

Another part of him thinks that this is the most he’s ever felt in a long time. And he doesn't want to lose it.

You can see the gears turning in his head. His fingers have slipped from you and you wince at the loss.

Slowly, you sit up. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your nipples pressing into his shirt.

He's confused and momentarily panicked when your faces get so close together, his hands seeking purchase on your hips.

In an unexpected move, you rake your hands through the side of his hair, looking lovingly at his face.

"I just wanna be someone for you," You murmur, your face breaking a little as Joel's resolve also cracks. "Doesn't matter what. I'm very versatile." You mumble the last part to try and lighten the mood.

Joel just stares at you—something swimming behind his eyes that you can't quite place.

Eventually, he crashes his forehead against yours, sighing out.

"You're makin' this fuckin' impossible." He rasps before kissing you with a passion you've never felt before.

You feel victorious.

He's finally given in to you.

Eagerly, you kiss back, wrapping your legs around his torso and grinding your bare cunt against the bulge in his jeans.

"Then stop trying so hard to get rid of me," You sigh out, chasing his lips even as you're trying to speak.

He groans and you catch it in your mouth, the pressure on his clothed cock making him dizzy.

“Fuck,” He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it somewhere on the floor. “Lay back.” He demands and you immediately follow suit.

He's never been that...assertive with you before. It makes you tingle all over.

He looks starved as he peers down at you, specifically your cunt.

He literally can’t tear his eyes off your sex—he only looks up to your gaze when you let out an impatient whine.

He rips down his pants, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

Now you can’t tear your eyes away from his sex.

You’ve only dreamt it so many times, but now that it’s finally in front of you—it all just feels surreal.

It’s better than you imagined, perfect.

“I don’t have a—”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off immediately. “S’okay, like it raw. Closer to you that way.” You murmur.

Joel looks physically pained that he’s not inside you right now. For some reason, you just know all the right things to say.

“Closer to me?” He huffs out, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

Now your cunt is flush with the base of his member and the sensation drives you both insane. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Joel rasps, but the way he says it reveals just how far he’s fallen. He knows you’re crazy, and yet here he is, balancing you out.

He glides his member back and forth against your folds, gathering up your wetness with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

He looks so concentrated—meanwhile you’re writhing with pleasure and impatience. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs to himself, eyes tracing all over you.

You freeze.

Joel had complimented you for the first time, and it was genuine.

He notices you stiffen and takes a moment to pause.

Your entire body erupts with goosebumps, your heart beating at exceptionally fast speeds.

He's worried for a second that something is horribly wrong.

“What?” He asks, confused at what’s got you so wound up.

Your face is flushed red as you bashfully giggle. “You called me pretty.”

Ah fuck.

Joel finds you so charming it hurts.

After he remembers how to breathe again, he rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“I have my cock to your cunt, of course I find you pretty.”

You smile and shrug. “Still. Nice to hear.” You’re all smiles until his tip prods at your entrance, causing a gasp to leave your throat.

He continues to apply pressure with his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck Joel—are you trying to kill me?” You whine, hips wiggling to get him in.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Relax, m’almost there.”

Slowly, he begins pushing his way inside. His mushroom head breaches you entirely and it feels like you can hear the angels singing.

He continues forward, the stretch being mainly around the middle of his thick cock.

But you’re taking it like a champ.

Joel braces himself with hands on both sides of your torso as he bottoms out, a groan crawling its way out of his throat.

The sensation is absolutely delicious.

A little bit of pain from the stretch, but so much pleasure from the fullness.

“Joel, ohmygod you feel so good inside me.” You moan, throwing your head back.

Your hips start moving on their own, but he immediately stops you with two large hands.

“D-Don’t move—fuck.” Joel grumbles out, his face pinched together in what looked like pain.

You’re confused for a moment, thinking maybe that he might just be really into cockwarming.

But then it hits you.

“Were you gonna come?” The tone in your voice makes it seem like you’d be elated if that was the case—like the most flattering thing in the world.

Joel looks pissed that you caught on so quick.

In truth, the moment he put his tip in, he was holding back his orgasm.

Can you blame him? He’s only fucked his hand for the last couple years.

“S’been a while.” Is all he can say, his chest heaving up and down in concentration. You know he’s embarrassed, but you can’t help but smile like a dope at him.

“If you come, please do it inside, please,” you beg, reaching out for his arms that caged you in.

Joel's rational mind feels like it just touched down in looney town after hearing your begging.

He feels crazy because he liked the thought of the idea you proposed. You even see him hesitate. But then he scoffs and shakes his head.

Joel drops down closer to your face, slowly starting to rock his hips into you. "Tryin' to baby trap me, girl?" He grunts in your ear, making you moan out.

Your walls are clenching down on him, and it’s making it that much harder to hold back. “No-no, promise, just wanna be full of you." You manage to blubber out...unconvincingly.

You probably didn't really want a baby with Joel, but your lust-driven brain was working on fumes and you just wanted to do what felt good.

Joel's grunting in your ear was not helping things. His fingers were gripping your hip so hard, you figured it would probably bruise tomorrow

Good. You wanted whatever he would give you.

"Christ--m'not gonna last much longer," Joel groans, picking his head up a little to meet your gaze. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to last, but when he saw your face, all those feelings disappeared.

You looked so--perfect. Soaking up the moment in case it was the last, god you hoped it wasn't the last time. Now that you've finally had a tase of him, you weren't sure you could live without it.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him firmly in your cunt. Joel notices this and also your pleading eyes, a growl leaving his throat.

"Please, please, please, please," you beg, never breaking eye contact with him as his thrusts pick up speed.

He ruins your long string with pleas with a needy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat like a starving man.

You accept it happily, moaning out into the kiss while Joel manhandles your hips to take his cock.

The feeling is damn near euphoric for both you and him. It gets even better when Joel's hand comes down to rub at your clit again.

Your back arches off the bed as you gasp and moan out, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders. "F-Fuck!" You moan into his ear, probably drooling on his shoulder in the process. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-" you sputter out in choked sobs. He was really good at working on your clit, you couldn't do anything else but thank him for it.

Joel feels a surge of something when he hears you. He's never had a woman thank him in bed before.

It's enough to push him over the edge. And apparently you too.

"I'm gonna come Joel, please don't stop," There are pools of tears in your eyes that Joel is just now noticing. He's about to reply to you, but he finds himself speechless when he feels your cunt start constricting and fluttering around him like a vice.

"Fuck!" He groans out loudly, his hips starting to falter in their rhythm. But then he picks up speed again, and in no time he's like a madman jackhammering into you.

You're a mess of screams and cries and moans underneath him, happily taking everything he was giving you.

When Joel feels himself about to come, he notices how your legs are still tightly wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and he manages to scoff out.

"Gotta let me go baby," You've never heard that pet name from him before, and it makes you crumble. His hands move to grab at your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

You whine out but reluctantly release the grip your legs had on him. Joel doesn't waste time before hugging both your legs on his chest, keeping them firmly placed while your feet squirmed by his ear.

"Atta girl," he murmurs before picking up speed again, his cock head pressing into your cervix.

It's all too much for you. Joel looks so amazing pounding into you from above, his concentrated face, his sweat, the way his salt and pepper hair is all disheveled, you're losing your mind.

Your core is on fire and you can't stop yourself.

In a staggering turn of events, you come first.

Your walls come down like bricks on his dick, you cry out, throwing your head back in complete bliss and ecstasy.

Seeing and feeling this, Joel is quick to follow in your steps. He rips himself from that warm hole of yours and pumps himself dry onto your stomach.

You watch it all with wide eyes, you wouldn't have missed Joel's orgasm face for the world!

Of course, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was open as he was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows turned down like he was mad.

God he was so beautiful.

His thick ropes of cum shoot all over your stomach and even your breasts as he jerks himself off to completion.

When he finishes, he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes to see you scoop up his cum from your breast with your finger and shove it in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his seed and you swallow eagerly, humming out in satisfaction at the taste of him.

Joel's watching in complete fascination, though his expression looks a little angry. When does it not?

"taste so good," you mumble with your finger still in your mouth, looking up at him with your big eyes.

He moves before he can think about it--ripping your hand away from your lips and caging you in a slow but deep kiss.

He soon falls down beside you and soon rolls over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the excursion.

You curl into his side, watching his side profile so intently. You had just fucked Joel Miller.

And it was everything you had dreamed of. Extreme happiness doesn't even begin to describe your feelings right now.

There's a long stretch of silence that drapes over the both of you. Eventually, Joel breaks it with something extremely off topic.

"Last night...you didn't just come here to say 'hi', did you?"

You're momentarily speechless, not expecting that question from him at all. But you can't stop a giggle from coming through your lips.

"Actually, I came to confront you." Your voice is soft as you begin speaking, thinking back to last night's ordeal.

Joel doesn't expect this answer, his head turns to look at you while you speak. His arm comes down to drape over your shoulder.

"I was really upset cus you rejected me n'all. I just couldn't accept the whole, 'age gap' excuse. I wanted to know if you just really didn't like me or not." You're murmuring, drawing soft lines with your finger on the skin of Joel's chest.

He huffs out a breath at the explanation, shaking his head. "Guess you got your answer, huh." He grumbles out, somewhat ashamed of himself that he couldn't hold back.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I did," you chirp happily, admiring his face again. "You know you're gonna have to fuck me, like, everyday now, right?"

You're kidding. But you're also not at all.

Joel scoffs and sits up, moving to pick up both his and your shirts. "Fat chance. Barely had enough stamina for one round." He grunts out, finding the neck hole in your tank top and putting it over your head for you.

You don't bother to pull it down over your breasts so Joel does it for you.

"It's okay, we can build up your tolerance over time." You quip with a teasing smile, loving the way Joel turned to glare a you.

He couldn't believe the youth these days.

[lokissweater]

Hi!!! Hope your doing wonderfully 🫶I absolutely adore your work! And this is the first time in asking anything, but if you haven't yet can you do a shy guys x popular reader with a lil spice but no smut! I'd appreciate it 🥹 have a lovely day or night 🩷

YUUUMMYYY oh my goodness i spiced but i think i spiced too much and if i did i am SO SORRY IM JUST A FREAK!!! but i hope you enjoy this piece and thank you so much for sending in a request!! MWAHH <33

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∘˙○˚.• DON’T BE SHY ∘˙○˚.•

{pairings (separate): shy satoru gojo, megumi fushiguro, & yuji itadori x popular f!reader}

summary: how the boys are pathetically down bad for favorable you <3

warnings: college!au, mentions of drinking, HELLAAA sexual mentions and theming mdni, no smut but girl damn near it, pining af, cursing, aged up characters, afab!reader, pet names, they want you BAD in each of their stories HEHEHE, mentions of alcohol.

word count: 5.3k

authors note: WHO WANTS MLB!MEGUMI BC I SURE FUCKING DO!! HES COMING NEXT MY LOVES but here’s a little something to keep you fed in the meantime <33 I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT! ILY!

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∘˙○˚. SATORU GOJO ∘˙○˚.

satoru wasn’t by any means a loner in college.

he had his own cute little group of friends and his own cute little outings and his own cute little interactions with his classmates, his rank on the popularity scale running somewhere around the middle (something he can thank his gorgeous eyes and gorgeous face for), but never even coming close to where you were at, a place many tried to reach but never had the qualities that you did— your place being at the top.

but satoru was too shy for his own good. too timid as he watched your breathtaking magnificent self walk down the halls and right by him in between classes— surrounded by people, you barely even noticing him, but him already memorizing the exact scent of your perfume you chose to wear that day, watching with love struck eyes and sweaty palms as his sickingly sweet obsession over you only grew by the years.

you were an absolute goddess in his eyes. you could never hurt him or be mean to him even if you tried, and it was a little pathetic how much he liked you— his little boyish crush that only shrunk him down to the mere size of a lady bug, his increased bashfulness when you’re around only doing him more harm than good as it started to affect his studies and sleep schedule.

but that wasn’t your fault, oh absolutely not.

it was his. all his. he wanted to take the blame for everything. he doesn’t care what.

even when you accidentally bumped into him at a party one night because you were a little tipsy, him stumbling over and you apologizing profusely as his heart stopped upon realizing it was you. and even when you accidentally dropped your red solo cup on his favorite blue washed jeans later on, your alcoholic beverage leaving a patch of wet on his thigh that made you apologize profusely to him again, satoru shaking his head and telling you repeatedly that it was his fault. he was in your way. he should be sorry.

you could dump an entire twenty five ounce bottle of smirnoff on his head and he’d still tell you he was to blame. that’s how much he liked you.

so as you gently took his hand and tugged him to stand up, you leading him through the crowd, your fingers interlaced with his? satoru went into a fucking frenzy.

his cheeks burned as you led him up the stairs and to the nearest bathroom, your lovely skin tight dress squeezing and hugging you in every right way in front of him that he internally panicked as he felt his dick stretch against his jeans, him wanting to end it all as he hoped you didn’t notice it and think he was a pervert.

“oh my god i’m so sorry—” you pulled him in and shut the door behind you, silencing what seemed like twenty different people calling out to you, for your attention, satoru swooning over the way you paid them no mind in return and focused entirely on him.

he felt so lucky.

he awkwardly sat himself at the edge of the tub as you crouched down and rummaged through the cupboard below the sink, your lips in a cute pout.

“i always get so stupid when i’m buzzed and i totally didn’t see you when i was walking…”

your tone was whiny and apologetic, and satoru’s heart physically could not take it.

“it’s— it’s okay..” he mumbled shyly, cheeks pink. “it was me i—” he averted his gaze once you turned to look at him. “i wasn’t paying attention…”

“but are you okay though?” your voice was immensely sweet and doting, it almost sounding like you were babying him as you walked over to him with a damp hand towel.

and he was all fucking over it.

he stiffly nodded and looked down at his lap, throat closing.

“i put a stain remover on this so i at least don’t leave a red mark on your jeans!” you smiled, an enchanting one at that as your clear lip gloss glistened under the dim light. “and i’m really sorry again! i hope i didn’t ruin the party for you…”

his eyes shot up and he shook his head frantically. “n—no! you didn’t it’s okay!” he tugged at the collar of his button up, feeling a little hot. “y—you did nothing wrong...”

you gleamed, and as satoru reached a trembling hand up for the towel to clean himself off, you pulled it back with a cute shake of your head.

“i’m doing it, silly! i’m the one who spilled it.”

“but!—”

you got down on your knees in front of him and his hands literally slapped over the edges of the tub as he gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning pure white as you calmly spread his legs and inserted yourself in between, your face fucking hovering over his dick and his cheeks turning even pinker as lewd thoughts dashed across his sick mind.

you noticed the look on his face and laughed.

“are you nervous? don’t be! i’m just gonna clean you up and ill be out of your way love.”

satoru didn’t want you out of his way, not ever. and the way you called him love had him already picturing you in a pretty white dress with a veil walking down the aisle to him.

he swallowed.

you had your arms resting over his thighs for support as you rubbed a circular tugging motion over the spot on his jeans, your eyebrows pinched in concentration as you tried to get the red stain out, your soft hair slipping from your shoulders and landing over his lap with satoru’s fingers itching to touch it.

“at the last party i threw, i also spilled a drink on a guy.” you giggled.

he felt a twinge of bubbling jealousy.

“did you—” he nervously looked at you. “did you also… help him?”

you smiled cutely. “nope! because he was making out with someone in the middle of my kitchen and he was in my way.”

thank god.

you huffed and leaned back to sit on your calves. “like— have some decency. i get you want to have a little kiss but if you’re doing it right where the vodka mix is? blocking it? i’m not helping you. your girl can help you.”

satoru giggled a little, and you folded the towel neatly and settled it beside you, proud of your work at removing the stain from his pants as you set your hands on your hips.

“and what about you?”

“me?” he mumbled.

“mhm!” you raised a silly brow and leaned closer to him, satoru inching backwards nervously at the proximity. “have you ever made out with someone like that?”

“well— well—”

satoru’s never kissed anyone.

“well what?”

he ran a slow embarrassed hand through his fluffy white hair and grimaced.

satoru is timid, shy, friendly, and a dork. but one thing he isn’t? is a liar. especially if it was you— even though all he wanted to do in life was impress you and have you not think he was a fucking loser.

“i’ve never uh—” he struggled. “kissed… someone.”

his words were so quiet and mumbly, completely ashamed of himself as his cheeks continued to glow pink.

but your eyes widened.

“what? you’ve never kissed anyone?”

he shook his head, eyes to his lap.

“but you’re so hot?”

satoru shot up. “h—huh?”

“yeah!” you grinned. “you are! have you ever had a girlfriend?”

he shook his head again.

“what?! how?!”

you placed a shocked hand over your mouth, your voice soft and astonished. “what a crime…”

he smiled shyly at your compliments, reduced to absolute putty in your hands at the moment as he couldn’t believe you thought he was even remotely attractive.

you confidently swung your arms up and threw them around his neck, and he froze.

your eyes were really suggestive, your gorgeous face looking up at him and his wide eyes looking down at you, your fingers gently running across the back of his neck and hair as he almost whimpered at what you were doing.

“wanna kiss me?”

“y-you?” he choked out, and you giggled softly.

“uh huh! o—only if you’re okay with it—” you pulled away a little, shoulders deflating. “i just figured—”

satoru noticed the way you started to lean back, your arms slipping from around his shoulders and his hands shot out then— grabbing your wrists as he pulled you back in and settled them around him.

was this real? actually? or was he just really drunk?

“yes!” he settled down a bit, sheepish. “yes i—i’m okay with it.”

you took in his eager bashful expression, and grinned.

“okay!”

you leaned and kissed his soft lips, pulling satoru in as his fingers shakily snaked over your waist and around you, not believing for a second that he was actually kissing you.

and you moved your lips slowly and delicately over his, trying to pry his mouth open more with your tongue and guide him on how to kiss you back, him diverting all of his focus to that as he tried to mimic your movements.

it started with innocent pecks at first, you trying to ease him into it and not make it overwhelming for him as you carefully amped up the difficulty little by little.

and he got the hang of it, fast, and you squeaked a noise of surprise when he suddenly shoved his long tongue in your mouth and slid his hands further down to your ass, squeezing as if he had every right to, completely forgetting that he technically didn’t.

what a greedy little thing… but you loved it.

he instantly pulled back.

“sorry i’m sorry!” he sputtered, pulling his hands to his chest like he’d just touched something scalding hot. “i don’t know why i—”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i liked it.”

“y—you did?”

“uh huh!” you nodded, leaning in seductively. “maybe you should do it again… and maybe underneath my dress, to get a better feel y’know?”

satoru couldn’t even respond as you latched your lips back on his, and he kissed you back desperately, wanting to impress you and do good for you so he could properly earn the right to feel you up like you had requested.

but he got greedier, and his hands were back on your ass squeezing and palming the fat of it, breathing heavily through his nose as he started to tug your dress up a little to feel your skin, the lace of your panties grazing his fingertips and making him fucking light headed.

his body was literally numb as you pulled apart suddenly, both of your lips swollen and red.

“wanna go to my room?”

∘˙○˚. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ∘˙○˚.

“if i can’t do it i’m turning the car around.”

“megs you cannot do that when we get there though!”

megumi shook his head. “and why not?”

“because you’ll scare every one away! what the hell is ‘with this treasure i summon—‘“

“yeah so that way everyone will think i’m a freak and leave me the fuck alone!”

you and megumi have been best friends since middle school, carbon copies of tweedle dee and tweedle dum as your personalities matched with each other’s so identically yet so differently at the same time, that you both bickered every waking second you were together.

which was all of the time.

though you had a better reputation than megumi did. you were popular, beautiful, and everyone wanted to get to know you as your unique personality struck joyous chords with anyone that was lucky enough to come across and get to know you.

all things megumi would never admit out loud to your face.

and he was just regular— popularity and social statuses something he didn’t give a shit about as he kept to himself and didn’t speak to a single soul unless it was yours.

“but i thought you said you wanted to come with me!” you whined.

megumi huffed and made a sharp turn as he drove. “you dragged me i told you no i don’t like parties and you started crying—”

“okay and?” you grumbled. “what so now i can’t cry in front of you? i can’t show my emotions and use my right of freedom of speech?—”

“oh my god.” he dragged an exasperated hand down his cheek. “you’re putting words into my mouth—”

“and you’re putting knives into my heart with how much you hate me.”

he parked on the side of the street and turned off the ignition, hooking his keys on one of his belt loops before he gave you an annoyed look.

“am i not in the car.”

“you are.”

“and am i not here at this party with you.”

“you are.”

“so what more do you want.”

“a kiss.”

“fuck off—” megumi pressed his hand flat on the side of your head and nudged you away before stepping out of the car with pink cheeks, your laughter ringing through the air as you shut the door and ran to catch up with him.

“just be nice please. my friends sometimes wanna talk to you and you look like you’re plotting.”

“maybe it’s because i don’t wanna talk to them.” he mumbled.

through his hard exterior, you knew megumi was just shy, and often times had difficulty talking to people or expressing himself— you really being the only exception in his life.

that’s why in every social situation that you dragged him to, he clung to you like sticky stubborn gum and never left your side— you of course not minding at all and it actually making you feel better to have him always there, your thing being interlocked pinkies as you navigated.

“no it’s because you’re shy and that’s okay!—”

megumi scoffed and kept walking, but the minute you both walked across the lawn and up the steps of the porch, he turned around and let you in front of him— his pinky out like usual.

you smiled softly to yourself and looped yours with his, pinkies closing like a lock before you pulled him inside.

it was dark and humid as fuck already, and you tried your best to politely push through the crowd of hammered and sweaty people in search for the kitchen, you not realizing how megumi literally pushed and shoved people behind you so they wouldn’t topple you over, them too inebriated to care.

“y/n!”

“hi guys!” you gushed, your crowd of friends beaming at the sight of you and handing you drinks without you even having to ask, you passing one back to megumi smoothly.

you both mostly spent the night mingling and drinking with your friends, playing little games and giggling quietly whenever someone would ask megumi a question and he would just stammer in response, blushing and grumpy at your teasing once he got the interaction over with.

and at some point, half of your friends had gone to the main area to dance, and you turned to him.

“megs.”

“yes.”

“do you wanna dance with me?”

“fuck no.”

“whyyyy!” you whined, dropping your forehead on his shoulder.

“because i don’t like dancing.”

“no one’s gonna notice anyways! it’s dark over there like completely.” you looked at him. “just come with me please.”

“no.”

“i’ll give you a kissy.”

megumi gave you a deadpanned look. “what is it with you wanting to give me a kiss?”

you ignored his comment. “i’ll do anything.”

“nope.”

“fine.” you stood up and tugged your dress down. “i’m just gonna ask some other guy and maybe when i tell him he’ll get a kiss out of it he’ll do it—”

megumi quickly grabbed your wrist, eyes narrowed.

“are you actually?”

“yes.”

his heart dropped.

“you’re gonna pimp yourself out for a dance?”

“yes! you know i love to dance—”

megumi stood and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor as you cheered and happily skipped behind him.

upon arriving, he remained stiff, bored, and fucking nervous with flushed cheeks and crossed arms while you danced, gently swaying and moving to the beat as bright neon laser lights occasionally drifted across the crowd— illuminating red cheeks and sweaty bodies.

it really was incredibly dark, and megumi could barely even see you standing in front of him as the bass of the music drummed through his body.

he let you when you reached up and uncrossed his arms— instead wrapping them around your waist as you threw your arms around his neck, him swallowing thickly.

“dance megs.” you spoke gently in his ear. “like this just sway—”

you moved your hips a little more, and though he didn’t exactly copy you, he stiffly just kind of swayed with you.

“i hate dancing.”

you laughed. “do you hate me?”

“no.”

far from it actually.

“then this should be fuunnn! just let loose a little.”

“i am letting loose.” he grumbled.

“you feel like a little stick though.”

“a stick?!”

you giggled loudly, throwing your head back as you did, the sight making megumi melt.

“yes! i’m gonna start break dancing if you don’t.”

he gave you an incredulous look. “huh? you’re not serious.”

“that i am.”

“y/n i’m moving with you i’m dancing—”

“but your arms are just around my waist! you’re not even moving with me what are you talking about?!”

“what are you talking about?!”

you huffed and stopped moving. “i’m gonna dance with someone else—”

you let go of him and turned but megumi only pulled you back.

“no you’re not and you’re not kissing them either so don’t even think about it—”

“you can’t tell me what to do—”

you pushed at his chest with both of your hands, trying to get him to let go of your waist— his strong grip not letting you.

“why are you being such a brat?!” he exclaimed.

you broke free and started walking.

“a brat that’s gonna dance with someone else!—”

megumi flew and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you back around before literally smashing his lips to yours, your eyes widening in complete shock.

there was your kiss.

he pulled away. “s—sorry i—”

you shook your head and grabbed his cheeks, bringing his lips back in to yours as they moved sloppily and fast, almost matching with the music as his arms engulfed around your waist and pulled you in.

you swiped your tongue over his and whimpered, you figuring he couldn’t hear it over the music but being dead wrong as he felt the blood rush to his dick the minute he heard it.

you pulled away. “what are— what are we doing?”

his chest heaved as he looked at you, cheeks pinky like always and eyes blown wide. “i don’t— i don’t know—”

you wiped your wet mouth with the back of your hand. “do you wanna— stop? i—”

you didn’t know why you were asking, knowing damn well you didn’t want to stop.

“fuck no.”

“okay—”

and his mouth was back on yours, kissing you and running his hands up and down over your body in absolute need, you doing the same as you ran your hands over his chest and down, down, down…

“can i—” you spoke in between kisses. “i’m gonna—”

megumi did it for you and pressed your hand flat against his groin, you palming him slowly as he took in a sharp inhale and broke from your lips, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders with his cheek mushed up against the side of your head, eyes screwed shut at how good it felt.

you continued to palm him through his jeans, going a little firmer when you felt his breath literally tremble in your ear as he shook.

“shit—” his arms tightened around you. “wait—” pant “i’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep—”

“do it.”

“no!” he choked and his hips pressed into your palm, wanting more. “let’s go— to the car. the car please—”

you nodded and pulled back, but stopped.

“megs if we do this we can’t go back, okay?” your chest heaved, a little fidgety. “we can’t— we can’t go back to being just friends i don’t wanna be just friends—”

he shook his head and looped his pinky with yours, leading you through the crowd and speaking over his shoulder.

“we won’t.” he started.

“i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either.”

∘˙○˚. YUJI ITADORI ∘˙○˚.

being good at math had its perks.

yuji was able to get by in every math related class, never had an issue with studying, and even tutored some of his friends and classmates as a side job to pay for his college classes and tuition.

but the minute you approached him one day— you, one of the most popular girls on campus, president of your sorority, life long crush and the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen, asking if he was able to tutor you on wednesdays?

being good at math became a blessing and a curse.

yuji thought he was well off at math… but if he was to tutor you, he wanted to be fucking albert einstein at it so he didn’t look like a fucking idiot if he happened to come across a topic he didn’t know how to teach.

and as he sat on his desk chair in his dorm, textbooks and materials laid out and ready to go as he wiped his clammy hands on his pants for the thousandth fucking time, he heard you softly knock on his door.

oh fuck.

“hi yuji!” you greeted sweetly, him smiling back at you as he stepped to the side to let you in.

“hey! were you able to find my building okay?”

you both walked over to his desk and sat down, you right next to him on an extra chair— your perfume engulfing his senses and your pretty hair over your shoulders neatly.

“oh no i was fine!” you got your little notebook out with your pencil case. “one of my friends is dorming in this building too so i knew where it was.”

he nodded happily and politely, shitting it inside but doing a damn fucking good job at not showing it— though the reddening of his cheeks was something he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried.

since you could only see him once a week, the duration of the tutoring sessions was a lot longer than the rest of his clients, and though yuji literally offered to tutor you for free whenever you wanted, you profusely denied and mentally decided to pay him double for his kindness.

you nervously fiddled with your fingers as he opened the textbook and flipped through the chapters you needed help with, and upon noticing, he frowned.

“sorry is it hot in here? i could open—”

“no! it’s okay!” you shook your head. “sorry i just— i’m really bad at math so i’m sorry if you can’t get anything through my head…”

you giggled nervously, and yuji just about cried.

“oh! don’t worry about that! that’s why i’m here to help.”

he beamed, his smile so big and bright that you found yourself copying his exact expression.

he was so nice.

“right!”

and he did help. yuji was exceptional at teaching, and concepts you had found hard to grasp before during class by your own professor was easy peasy with him, his bubbly and animated way of teaching you something that pulled you in and kept you engaged.

after two hours of tutoring, yuji sat back on his desk chair and exhaled.

“phew, let’s take a break! is that fine?”

“mhm!” you chirped, putting your pencil down and smiling. “you’re really good at teaching yuji, like really good.”

“oh thanks!” he blushed, giving you a cute little smile. “i— i like math so i just, teach y’know..”

you nodded. “what’s your major? is it something to do with that?”

“oh no—” he shook his head. “i’m majoring in finance so i get a lot of math classes.”

“huh?!” you gasped, completely astonished. “i thought your major had something to do with teaching i’ve— i’ve never understood math before until you… you’re brilliant!”

he gulped, your praises washing over him and making him feel tingly all over.

yuji gave you a wobbly shy smile. “t—thank you y/n!”

you grinned kindly, your pretty face making him want to word vomit how gorgeous he thought you were and maybe even sort of ask you to be his wife.

“do you um— are you thirsty? i have—”

he shot up clumsily and walked over to his mini fridge. “i have water? here—”

he didn’t even let you respond as he took a bottle of cool water and handed it to you, you taking it gratefully.

“i— i also have these!”

he reached in again and gave you a little glazed donut pastry, wrapped neatly in a clear bag that had the bakery’s logo on the front.

“oh no yuji it’s okay!” your eyebrows pinched together in worry. “i don’t wanna take what’s yours just the water is fine!”

he shook his head and closed the fridge, sitting back down on the chair next to you. “it’s all good! it’s your reward for hanging on for two hours of tutoring.”

his smile was so kind and sweet, and you bit your bottom lip as you softly thanked him.

“how’s um— how’s your sorority going?” yuji asked.

“my sorority?” you tilted your head to the side. “how’d you know i’m in a sorority?”

“oh! well—” he went completely fucking pink. “s—sorry you’re kind of popular so i just heard..”

you hummed and quickly nodded. “no it’s okay! i didn’t know people were talking about me like that.”

you laughed a little, and yuji thought you were so humble.

“it’s going great! it’s really kind of you to ask.” you crossed your legs and leaned an elbow on your knee, your chin coming down to rest on the palm of your hand. “it’s a little stressful to manage but i love my girls so, they definitely make it easier.”

yuji lit up. “that’s great! i’m glad it’s going well… i— i know i don’t know much about sororities and things like that but i have no doubt in my mind that you’re the most qualified and deserving of a position like that…”

your eyes softened, and your heart literally ached in the best way over his compliment.

“thank you yuji… seriously. you’re so nice!”

you giggled, and it made him gnaw at the inside of his cheek.

the tutoring session continued after that, and just when you had reached your final hour, you slumped over his desk and groaned softly.

“i’m sorry yuji… my motivation is running out.”

he laughed softly. “it’s okay! it happens. if you want we can stop here—”

“no!” you shot up. “i have to get through it i’ll be so mad at myself if i don’t.”

he looked at you, his eyes gentle. “you’re doing really great so far y/n.”

you blushed, “thank you…”

you stood suddenly and reached over to flip through the pages of the textbook, completely unaware of the way your boobs were practically shoved up his face as his breath hitched, hands tightening on the arms of his desk chair.

you really hadn’t noticed, you innocently wanting to just look and see how many chapters you had left to cover, but when you sat back down and quirked an eyebrow over yuji’s flushed face and blown out pupils… it clicked.

was he interested in you like you were with him?

maybe…

“i need motivation.” you sighed.

he cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “i can— i can give you another donut at the end?”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i have an idea.”

he tilted his head, curious. “what is it?”

“maybe we can do like a reward system!”

“a reward system?”

“yeah!” you nodded eagerly. “for every page we cover, i get a reward!”

he sat up and smiled, “oh right! i’ll give you a donut after each page then!”

but you shook your head, and he deflated. “no?”

“do you know about hickeys?”

he choked, eyes widening dramatically. “a—about— well, yeah, i do.”

“maybe that could be my reward! a hickey for every page.”

you smiled at him so fucking cutely, as if you didn’t just ask him for something so raunchy, and his throat literally dried up at your request.

holy fucking shit.

“you want—” he wiped his hands on his pants. “you want a hickey from— from me? really?”

“yeah! only if you’re okay with it, definitely not if you’re not.”

“no i—” his eyes darted from your neck to your face. “i am…”

holy. fucking. shit.

your tutoring session resumed, and yuji literally could not teach you a single damn thing anymore, knowing that by the end of this page he was going to do something that only took place in his dreams.

after a bit, he turned the page and shifted his body to face you, nervous and clammy.

you smiled sweetly and took his hands, yours soft and heavenly as you placed his on your shoulders.

“only if you’re okay with it.” you murmured again softly, tone nurturing as your pretty eyes looked into his.

“i— i am.”

“okay! whenever you’re ready.”

yuji breathed in shakily and out, gulping before coming closer to your gorgeous neck and planting his lips on it.

your hands came to rest on his thighs as he sucked— slowly and carefully, not wanting to suck too hard and accidentally hurt you as his tongue flicked over the spot, the pressure of his mouth making you shudder as he continued to suck and create a pretty purple bruise.

he pulled away when he was finished with a wet smack, his breathing heavy as he searched your face for any indication that he did well.

and you glowed, looking at your reflection on the little mirror that sat on his desk. “it’s so pretty! i love it!”

a hesitant smile spread across his face. “r—really? you can be honest i—”

you looked at him. “no it was amazing! it felt really good!”

his dick twitched.

“okay let’s keep going now!”

well the motivation definitely worked, and funnily enough, you both got through the next page a lot quicker than before, yuji almost immediately turning to face you after turning the page.

this time, he placed his hands on your waist as he sucked. and he sucked, harder and wetter than before as his fingers pressed into you— his tongue running over your new hickey and dragging over the previous one too before reluctantly pulling back, his dick a literal bolder at this point as you squeezed your thighs together, both of your chests panting.

you had barely reached a quarter of the next page when yuji set his pencil down and turned, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“can i please just give you another one?”

you nodded quickly, eagerly, as you both stood and he latched back onto your neck, his arms around your entire body desperately, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh and full on making out with it as he messily sucked and ran his lips all over your neck this time, a moan slipping from you as he did that it made you slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“s—sorry—”

“don’t be don’t be—” he breathed quickly, walking backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sat, pulling you with him and grabbing at your thighs for you to sit on his lap.

you listened, your neck littered with yuji’s hickeys as you subconsciously and softly grinded on his crotch, him groaning into your neck and biting down harder as your breath hitched.

yuji lost it at this point, all forms of moral out the fucking window as he dragged his long wet tongue from the side of your neck and up to your cheek, kissing and licking deviously at it as his hands squeezed hungrily over your plushy thighs.

he pulled back, eyes half lidded.

“can i—” pant “can i give you hickeys on your tits?”

————————————————————————

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[reidmotif]

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat. 

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil? 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. 

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

 For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid. 

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him. 

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man. 

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

 You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed. 

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

 How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall. 

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship. 

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly. 

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?” 

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him.  “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.” 

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.” 

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation. 

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

 There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?” 

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?” 

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues. 

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.” 

You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead. 

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement. 

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement. 

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at you, as if he was sizing you up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.” 

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning. 

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.” 

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging. 

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it. 

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies. 

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.” 

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left. 

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to. 

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that. 

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read. 

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night. 

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon. 

You shrug it off. All in good time, right? 

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind. 

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here. 

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

 “I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.” 

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal. 

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-” 

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted,  missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you. 

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent. 

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them. 

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.” 

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer. 

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.” 

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent. 

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend. 

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.” 

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words. 

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out. 

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.” 

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. “There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.” 

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness. 

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?” 

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever. 

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You don’t move a single muscle. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again. 

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs. 

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before. 

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening. 

“Need to taste you. Please.” 

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out. 

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?  

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment. 

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly.  You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release. 

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream. 

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you? 

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next. 

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against  his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly. 

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you? 

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly. 

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act. 

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end. 

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this. 

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor. 

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good. 

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked. 

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark. 

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine. 

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt. 

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release. 

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.” 

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to. 

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well,  a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could. 

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything,  and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once. 

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened. 

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers. 

“More than okay.” You whisper back. 

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.” 

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out. 

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.” 

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief  can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out. 

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic. 

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you. 

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[satoruhour]

geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him. 

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

part two ♡

[slttygeto]

I'd love to see me from your pov — GOJO S.

synopsis: Gojo Satoru seems to struggle with the idea of love and doesn't quite know where to stand. Luckily for him, you're there to soothe his worries every time.

word count: 2,1k

content warning: a tiny bit of angst, but you know me and my love for this man.

note: hi hello there :)! it's October which means it's the 4th year anniversary since the release of ariana's album positions! I adore that album with all of my being, and what better way to show my love than to dedicate some of my favorite songs to my favorite anime men? enjoy reading!

Satoru has never known what love is. His parents’ marriage was an arranged one, his mother’s good looks and her status along with his father’s powerful technique is what brought them together. And nine months later, the wielder of the six eyes was born. Raised in an environment where his father was barely around, the only warmth he’s ever felt was his mother’s hand holding his smaller one as she walks him around the Gojo estate, showing off the boy whose birth altered the balance of the world. 

Then she was off to do her duties as Madame Gojo. 

Satoru remembers his childhood as being extremely dull. He was forbidden from social interactions, was told that they are useless unless the person was of any benefit to him or his powers—which at the time, six year old Satoru didn’t understand but he had no choice but to comply with his father’s words. 

Bright pair of blue eyes would then follow his father’s figure as he made his way towards the sliding paper door, but before he could leave, the tall man turned towards his wife whose eyes remained glued to her lap before announcing. 

“I’ll be off.” Whether that meant for hours, days or weeks, Satoru never knew. 

Logically, that led to the creation of his image on love and marriage. He avoided the two concepts like the plague. Love was always meant to find others before it could even glance his way, and Satoru was okay with that. 

He was okay with spending the rest of his time alone, maybe he would buy a house on the top of a hill and own a nice border collie dog. Perhaps, that dog would show him a little bit of loyalty and love because Satoru feeds it and takes it on walks, but when the sun goes down and the dog goes to sleep, it would be just Satoru and his thoughts. Dying alone sounded scary, but it was better than ending up like his parents.

“Are you okay?” The tall man feels a gentle squeeze on his large hand. Suddenly, he’s pulled back into the present. 

The smell of fresh roses and the cold breeze overwhelm his senses. He blinks and realizes that he must’ve taken off his blindfold somewhere—Satoru can’t remember where, or why he got so lost in his thoughts.

“Satoru?” That voice. That sweet, warm and honeyed voice, barely above a whisper as it calls out his name and he gets another whiff of something—perfume.

Your perfume.

You’re standing next to him, smaller frame and smaller hand squeezing his own and he remembers why he was pulled back into his childhood. 

You had squeezed his hand the same way his mother did. Except this time, you don’t pull away like she does. In fact, you haven't pulled away in years. 

When Suguru left, Satoru was trying to piece himself back together within the confines of his own place. Quiet, cold and unwelcoming. He despised the feeling, it made him feel like shit and Satoru was usually the type to ignore his feelings—so when they come crashing against him in strong waves, the strongest can’t duck down and avoid them, he can’t swim away and find refuge. He chooses to believe that he is his own refuge, even if he’s messy and selfish and quite literally just a jerk. The strongest was unable to save his own best friend from a fate that is so horrible, one that could’ve easily been avoided had he looked harder. 

Had he not been raised that way. 

“Satoru?” 

On a cold October night in 2007, you show up at Satoru’s apartment with food and homemade sweets. You’re sweaty, clearly having climbed up the stairs since you had no access to the elevator. He sees you, he cannot process the reason for your sudden visit until he sees your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry.” You say with so much emotion that the teenager can only try to stop himself from digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. 

Although he only realizes it years later, the only person who had shown Satoru that he was worth a bit of love was Suguru. He had been your classmate too, your friend. You’re grieving his absence too, but you choose to stay with Satoru that night. He doesn’t say much, you don’t press him about it. 

He doesn’t understand why. 

A couple of months pass, your visits become more regular. He buys you a mattress and even suggests you move in with him in the guest room of his apartment. And after much consideration, you agree and the two of you become roommates.

What had once been a cold, uncomfortable apartment slowly turns into a refuge for Satoru, a place he looks forward to coming back to after a long day of missions. Was it because of the smell of food that fills the hallway as he approaches the door, or the thought of finding you in there when he inserts the key? Satoru isn’t sure yet.

He’s still a bit confused as to why you want to be around him.

Months turn into years, your presence remains a constant in his and Megumi’s lives when he takes him in. You have your own room that you choose to share with Tsumiki and you treat the two children like your own. The strongest believes that your heart is as big as the oceans combined.

For someone whose youth was stolen away by the Jujutsu society, Satoru tries to make sure that his students don’t meet the same fate. So he takes on countless missions, protects students like they’re his own children and promises them a bright future. Even if it’s at the expense of his own. 

You hate that, and you make it clear to him the day he takes in Yuuta.

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“No, you listen to me!” This is the most emotion you’ve shown since that one night you came to visit him. Satoru looks up from his phone where he’s sitting, and is a bit taken aback when he sees your eyes fill up with tears. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be going around and doing shit like that?” 

“What–saving them?”

“Ruining your future!” You raise your hands in the air. 

“I don’t have a future.” 

The room falls silent. Suddenly, you’re glad that Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t home. Your eyes meet his, and the white haired male watches as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There’s a thousand expressions on your face—betrayal? Hurt? Worry? He can’t decipher them.

He is overwhelmed. His six eyes are screaming at him that your cursed energy was elevating, your body temperature was rising and he can see that your chest is heaving. 

He still doesn’t realize what he had just said. 

To him, it was the truth. There was nothing morbid about his words. If he couldn’t see himself marrying or falling in love, then Satoru simply did not have a future. Those children do, and that’s what he should prioritize.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t–”

“Satoru–” you lose your breath as you utter his name, broken and weak. You gulp harshly, heart pounding loudly in your ears. “You can’t say that.”

It’s selfish, you’re aware of that, but it can’t be helped. You watch as the light of the man you had been clinging onto like a lifeline for years starts to dim, and you scramble to find the source of the problem. 

And while Satoru’s six eyes are screaming at him to walk away, his heart pins him to the ground of his living room. Overwhelmed and emotional, it reminds him of that one lonely night. He can’t tell you how he feels, he can’t pinpoint to you that it’s because of his parents that his heart refuses to let him accept the idea of love. He sees the waves coming, large and tall and ready to destroy him years later—as he scrambles to find refuge, his heart finally feels at ease.

Your arms wrap tightly around his middle, chin resting on his shoulder and your hands digging into his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. You want to stop your chest from stuttering, but your quivering lip gives away your strong emotions. 

“I’ll stay.” 

Why would you stay? 

His arms feel heavy as he lifts them up and finally rests them on your warm body, pulling you so close to him you feel yourself suffocate. It doesn’t matter. Satoru hugs you so tightly that you hear your heart break. 

You don’t comment on the wet feeling on your shoulder, or the way his hands tremble as they grip the back of your shirt. You let him cling onto you as though you were the air he needed to breathe, the warmth he sought in the middle of the coldest nights. 

—

“Thank you.” 

“Hm?” You look to your side, a bit confused. The white haired man thinks you look very adorable when you’re clueless, trying to understand his words. 

“Thank you? What for?” Satoru isn’t one to get nervous, but your stare has him feeling a little hot. He hopes he isn’t blushing, it doesn’t suit his brand. 

“For saying yes.” This time, he is the one who squeezes your hand and you hold back a chuckle at how he avoids eye contact. You squeeze his hand back and lean your head against his shoulder.

“I would be crazy not to marry you.” 

“But you know… given my line of work, and Suguru—”

“Satoru,” you stop the man before he can carry on with his small ramble. You appreciate how vocal he is, it is one of the major changes to his personality ever since the two of you made it official. “I am a sorcerer as well. I understand.”

“You hate the missions I take.”

“I hate the way the higher ups view you, not the missions you take.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You fidget with your hands, feeling as though you might’ve crossed a line your husband wasn’t ready to let you cross yet—

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“How do you view me?” He asks, voice low and small. He still doesn’t look at you, nor does he look anywhere really. Despite being 28 years old, Satoru feels the same way he felt at 6 years old. Vulnerable, worthless and in need of a reminder of what he brought to this world other than his powers–

“You’re handsome.” You break his chain of thoughts with a lot of ease, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “A handsome, caring young man with a big,” a finger traces his heart over his shirt, “big heart. You have a child-like spirit, and a boy-ish smile that could make anyone fall for you very easily. I don’t want to focus too much on your looks, but they’re unfortunately a huge part of who you are,”

“You’re selfless.” You lean against the balcony railings, staring down at the city. “People take you for granted and either you don’t seem to notice, or you try not to.”

“And last, you’re too good for this world.” 

Your eyes sparkle as you describe every small detail about the man. You pour all of your emotions into your tiny monologue, so you fail to notice that Satoru had removed his hands off the railings. Until you feel something warm on your sides and something heavy on your shoulder. 

“Satoru?”

“I’m fine,” his broken voice would beg to differ, but you don’t push him. You rest your hands on top of his and let him pull you back against his chest in a warm, tight hug. 

He had always wanted to see himself through your eyes, filled with so much adoration and trust that it made his heart burst in his chest. He was riddled with confusion and something he couldn’t quite decipher anytime you had told him ‘of course it was you’ when he would do something nice, or ‘you’re not like that’ when you heard Nanami mumble something about Satoru’s playful behavior. 

You wish you could give him your eyes, take away some of that overwhelming feeling of being the wielder of the six eyes and allow him to rest—see himself as the selfless, kind-hearted man that he was to you. 

Since that was physically impossible, you’ll stick to loving him as though he held the universe between his palms.

You make loving him seem as easy as breathing, and the inner child living deep within him is forever grateful for that. 

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jace and betrothed unable to wait until their wedding night to have sex??

Request: Jacaerys and his future wife fooling around because they are horny and scared they will die before getting married. I don’t want my boy to die without tasting the greatness of sex

How did this smut piece get to 2.2k words? 😳

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbating, fingering, p + v,��

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I’m scared, Jace,’’ you confessed as you stood by the banister of Dragonstone castle, watching as Vermax and Silverwing flew together over the bay. Hopefully Silverwing will lay eggs when you and Jacaerys have children. ‘’The war is getting closer to us. Soon, we’ll have to get on our dragons and battle against the enemy. We…we might die.’’

Death was inevitable during a war. Especially one with dragons, as Rhaenys once said. Team Black had already suffered a couple of losses — Lucerys, Rhaenys, Ser Erryk —, but more would come. 

‘’The thought of what’s coming is terrifying, but we can’t let ourself be paralyzed by the possibility of dying,’’ Jacaerys said, his hand securely on the handle of his sword. He had taken the habit from Daemon, whom he looked up to in certain aspects. 

You looked down at your bare hands on the top of the banister. ‘’I’m not scared of death, I’m scared of dying without ever calling you husband.’’ 

A few weeks before the petition of Driftmark, you and Jacaerys had announced your betrothal. Rhaenyra had a feast in celebration, proud and happy that her eldest son would marry without any politics involved. The wedding should have happened in the summer, but the King fell to his illness and from there unraveled a series of unfortunate events that postponed the wedding.  

‘’When the war ends and I sit on my throne, we’ll have a large celebration in the Red Keep,’’ the Queen had promised.

But you were tired of waiting. 

‘’Every night, as I lay in bed, I think of you and our life if there hadn’t been a war of succession. I would call you husband, my prince husband, and we would not be sleeping in separate beds across the castle. No one would be chaperoning us from afar and we would not get scolded for sharing ‘too long’ kisses.’’

Jacaerys put his hand over yours on the bannister, sharing the same feelings. He wanted to call you his wife and glare at whoever dared speaking wrong to you. He wanted to spend the evening alone in your shared chambers, eating cakes and talking about your day until one of you fell asleep first. He wanted…he wanted to take you to his bed and have a family with you. Not whilst the war was going. He could not deal with the stress of his pregnant wife going to battle on her dragon. 

A few days later, you were sitting in your settee, reading in your nightgown when you heard a light knock on the door. You raised your head from your book, and saw that a piece of parchment had been slipped beneath your door.  

Meet me when the moon is bright. Careful when you take the stairs, Ser Godric is keeping guard.

The message was not signed, but you recognized the handwriting. 

When you judged the moon was bright enough, you slipped a robe over your nightgown and quietly walked down the corridor to take the stairs to Jacaerys’ chambers. You listened carefully for any guards, not wishing to get caught sneaking to you betrothed’s chambers at the hour of the owl. It would make quite the scandal amongst the servants and the staff. 

You knocked delicately on the door and bit your lip as you waited, your stomach bubbling with excitement. Within a few seconds, the door opened and Jacaerys pulled you inside. 

The room was quite dark as the sun was asleep, only the fire of the hearth and a few candles on a table as sources of light. You noticed the small crumpled balls of parchment on the study, assumingly drafts of his message to you. It had to be not too suggestive, but also not too plain that you would not want to come.

‘’I didn't know if you were going to come,’’ Jacaerys said, his lips curved into a shy smile. 

He was wearing just a tunic and wool trousers. It felt strange to see him without his doublet and riding gear. His dark brown hair was messy and his cheeks flushed from what you could make from the light. He looked so different from the usual picture-perfect prince. 

‘’You asked to see me.’’ 

Jacaerys stepped closer. He raised his hand to stroke your cheek, then your hair, which he seemed taken by. ‘’I didn’t know your hair was so long. You always have them up in braids or pins,’’ he said, his tone soft with wonder.

A slight smile tugged at your lips. ‘’What is it that you wanted, Jace? I doubt you summoned me her to talk about my hair.’’ 

‘’I’ve been thinking. About us.’’ He paused for a moment, looking into your eyes. ‘’The Gods have been unfair to us. So let’s not wait for them to bless and unite us.’’

Your brows drew into a light frown. ‘’Jace, what do you—’’ you began, but he stepped closer, his forehead resting against yours. 

He stepped closer, the fire in the hearth reflecting in his eyes. ‘’Do you love me?’’ 

‘’With all my heart,’’ you replied without hesitation, your eyes filled with sincerity. 

‘’Let’s not wait, then. I…I don’t want to waste our time together waiting for this damn war to be over to take you to bed.’’ 

Jacaerys placed his hands on your hips and pulled you flush against him, his grip loose, giving you time to pull from his grasp if you wanted it. But you didn't. 

Instead, you looked up at him and kissed him, closing the remaining space between you. You kissed him like you've done many times before, only this time you didn't have to pull away every twenty seconds to check if a maester, guard or the Queen was around. You’ll never forget the embarrassment you felt that day…

Jacaerys whimpered as you pulled his bottom lip with your teeth, and pressed you against him, desire spreading through his veins, hot like dragonfire. With less layers between your bodies, you could feel the warmth of his chest through your nightgown, and his...little friend stiffening in his trousers.

‘’Someone is excited,’’ you murmured with a giggle as you broke the kiss to plant a trail of kisses down his neck instead. 

He let out a low moan, tightening his grip on your hips. ‘’I cannot control it when you’re around. Especially when you kiss me.’’ Jacaerys captured your lips into another kiss, and tingles caressed your spine and tickled your lower stomach. 

His hands grabbed and pulled at the material of your robe and nightgown, and you rolled your hips, igniting more of his dragonfire. Jacaerys moaned at the contact, louder than he intended. Your own cheeks turned red, realizing you were starting to reach an intimacy you had never breached before.

‘’I’m nervous,’’ you whispered, biting your lip as you thought of getting intimate. 

You placed your hands on Jacaerys’ chest, distracting yourself from your mind. His heart was beating fast, probably just as nervous. 

‘’We don't have to do anything if you don’t feel ready to.’’

You shushed him with a finger to his lips. ‘’I want to.’’ 

To prove yourself, you untied your robe and placed it on the back of the settee, right next to Jacaerys’ sword. The prince's breathing quickened, his dark eyes fixated on your fingers as you unlaced the ties of your nightgown, slowly unraveling the knot. You sucked in a breath as you pulled it down your shoulders, letting it slip down your body until it reached the floor.

Silence greeted your naked body, and you felt shy suddenly. You almost reached for your robe to cover yourself, but your betrothed sensed your uneasiness and stroked your cheek before taking off his tunic and trousers. He found it unfair for you to be naked while he was still clothed.

Once you were even, he guided you backwards towards his bed. The headboard had a large dragon engraved in the stone and seemed a little bigger than yours. The sheets were pale, and over top was a deep red blanket made of velvet to keep warm from the winds coming from the bay.

Jacaerys sat on the edge and, with an expression of fascination, he reached for your breasts. He made sure to be gentle, sliding his thumbs gently over your rapidly hardening nipples. ‘’By the Sevens, you’re beautiful,’’ he marveled, stars in his eyes. 

‘’I can say the same, my prince.’’ You pressed your palm over his chest, smooth and warm.

Jacaerys smiled, that one soft and genuine smile he reserved for you. ‘’I love you,’’ he said, his hands caressing your side in small, gentle circles. 

‘’I love you to— Aah,’’ you whimpered as his hand reached between your legs, stroking your slit clumsily. He didn't know what he was doing, and lacked finesse as he bumped against your clit at random moments, but it still felt amazing. 

He checked on you, wanting to please. ‘’Does that feel good?’’

‘’Yes.’�� 

His fingers were getting slippery from your arousal, making it easier to slide against your cunny. You’ve done it to yourself a few times, alone in your bed. 

‘’Can you put one inside?’’ 

Jacaerys’ fingers were a bit thicker than yours, and longer. 

He nodded. 

A breathy moan left your lips instantly, pleasure sparkling as your walls clenched around his middle finger. 

‘’Like that?’’ Jacaerys slid his finger out, then back in, repeating the motion as you grabbed his shoulder. 

‘’Yes. Again.’’ 

He listened to your needs, almost forgetting his own as his cock remained untouched against his stomach. It was engorged and painful. While one hand was busy pleasuring you, he wrapped his second around his cock and jerked himself. 

 You noticed and thought of helping him, but Jacaerys added a second finger and your knees almost gave out. The feeling was overwhelming, but you craved more. 

You pushed Jacaerys away, and clambered over his lap. His gaze met yours, equally filled with lust. With a nod from your lover, you reached down to grab his cock and lined it at your entrance, sinking down slowly, inch by inch. 

The intensity of the sensation had you gripping at each other, needing to anchor yourself to something. It was unpleasant at first, feeling a pressure and a stinging inside your intimate tunnel. You felt full in a way that was impossible to describe.

Feeling your fingers dig into his skin, Jacaerys kissed your shoulders and neck to sooth you, trying his hardest not to move by fear to blow too soon or hurt you. It was overwhelming for him too — the feeling of your tight walls squeezing him.

You rose up slightly, and then sank back on with tenderness. Jacaerys moaned deeply with you, his head dropping against your collarbone. He closed his eyes, his hands squeezing your hips as you moved up and down again, the pressure around his cock heavenly.  

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm, becoming one. 

When your legs fatigued, you let Jacaerys know and he moved you on the bed and laid you down on the rich velvet. He adjusted himself to the new position, his dark curls falling like curtains around his face as he thrusted into you with long deep strokes.

‘’Kiss me,’’ he demanded.

You complied, winding your arms around his neck and rocking your hips to meet his thrusts until you reached your high with a broken cry. 

Seconds later, Jacaerys pulled out and spilled onto your thighs, not wanting to deal with the consequences of having sex out of wedlock. 

The bed creaked as he collapsed beside you, breathing heavy. As if an invisible string was pulling you to him, you rolled on your side and clung to him, needing to be close after sex. You stayed that way for a long time, relaxing with your head on Jacaerys' bare chest. Your legs felt like jelly, still dizzy from the intense emotions and the overwhelming pleasure. 

You wished you could suspend time and stay there with him forever. But a soft yawn brought you back to reality.

‘’I must leave,’’ you said, feeling the tiredness catching you. It was difficult not to be lured to sleep when you were cuddling under the covers and Jacaerys’s hand was stroking your back gently.

His arms caged around you, protesting. ‘’Stay.’’ He nuzzled into your neck, his voice muffled. ‘’It’s a command from your prince.’’ 

His tone was unserious, but it still made you guilty and sad to leave him. 

‘’I do not wish to leave and sleep in my bed alone, but I must be found in my own chamber when the maids come in the morn.’’ 

Jacaerys sighed, rubbing his face into your hair. ‘’I know,’’ he said, his voice a mixture of resignation and frustration. 

Reluctantly, his arms slowly unwound from around you and you peeled yourself from him, releasing a small hiss when you sat up. The septa had warned you about the pain after breaking your maidenhead. It wasn’t unbearable, only sensitive when you moved. 

‘’I didn't hurt you, didn't I?’’ Jacaerys immediately asked, his eyes filled with concern as he checked on you.

You shook your head and smiled, washing his guilt away. ‘’No. You were perfect, Jace.’’ 

He knew it was untrue. No one was perfect the first time. 

You struggled dressing back into your nightgown and robe, having to fight with Jacaerys’ lips trying to kiss you and his arms pulling you against him. You gave him a last longing kiss before slipping out of his chambers, promising to see him to break fast. 

—

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[rafesangelita]

rafe jerking off to one of kook!sweetheart!reader’s pictures and making a mess out of himself? 😵‍💫

warnings: reader sends pics, male masturbation, suggestive ending

[10:56 PM] sweetheart <3: 1 attached image

[10:56 PM] sweetheart <3: i just got this sample in for my next collection, what do you think?

rafe stared at his phone, utterly speechless at the sight. how was it that he was the one to receive a picture of you in the skimpiest lingerie he’s ever seen?

he swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he inspected every detail, every curve of your body in the photo. you were obviously in bed, the thought of him barging into your room and ripping every last piece of lace off of you before fucking you into oblivion was, without a doubt, something he was seriously considering doing right now.

mind scrambling to write a reply, rafe cursed under his breath as another picture lit up his screen.

[11:00 PM] sweetheart <3: 1 attached image

[11:00 PM] sweetheart <3: cute little detail, right?

if rafe thought he was losing his mind at the first photo, he was definitely losing it now. there, in the middle of your bra, hung a small gold pendant with the letter ‘R’, the damned thing glinting underneath the dim lighting of your room.

rafe was already a jealous hothead, so to see you put his own little mark on you willingly? oh, he was going to show you his appreciation. with his phone long forgotten next to him, rafe stroked his already hard cock, wishing his hand was your own as he brushed the tip with his thumb.

everything you did drove this man insane. the little glances at his lips whenever you two would be flirting, the way you rested your pretty hand on his thigh when he’d make you laugh, all of it— rafe felt it all boiling down to one thing. and he needed it bad.

“s-shit,” rafe shuddered, his eyes screwing shut as he imagined you on top of him, that pendent with his initial swinging in his face as you rode him like there was no tomorrow. he would bet all of his daddy’s money and tanneyhill, that you’d feel like heaven wrapped around him.

it was embarrassing to rafe how fast he felt himself approaching his high. his mouth fell open, a throaty moan falling from his lips as his hips bucked into his fist. he wondered if you’d let him cum or make him work for it, just like everything else.

the first time he tried to talk to you, you ignored him until you saw for yourself that he wasn’t in any other girls ear. everything, whether it was a peck on his cheek, or simply letting him take you out to lunch, you made his actions determine whether or not he was going to get what he wanted.

“holy fuck!” he whispered, his chest now rising and falling as the band in his stomach threatened to snap. never in his life had he wished he was somewhere else right now, that ‘somewhere’ being between your thighs, hearing your sweet cries of pleasure. rafe couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck his cum inside of you or paint your face, but after this? he figured he’d do both.

“oh, my g-” rafe’s words were cut short when his orgasm hit him, his jaw falling slack as his eyebrows knitted together. spilling his load into his hand, rafe groaned as his cock twitched in his boxers, a hiss sounding from his lips as he continued to move his hand languidly over his length.

by this point, it’d been well over thirty minutes since rafe had left you on seen, your ego a little hurt that he hadn’t responded to any of your texts after you dolled yourself up just for him. just as you were about to call it a night, your phone dinged with a message from none other than the man himself.

[11:33 PM] ray <3: made a mess. i’m getting in the shower and then i’m making my way over there. be ready for me, doll.

[thevoidstaredback]

Red Hood was furious. Beyond that, actually, and he could tell that Nightwing shared his sentiment. Danny was technically the new worker in the alley and had basically been adopted by all the working girls and boys, which is why he had yet to meet him. Apparently, he would scare him off?

Anyway, Red Hood would be out for blood as soon as he got Danny dropped off at The Club. The poor kid was still in shock, cowering in on himself, letting the jacket hide him as much as it could. He could tell the kid was anxious to have Nightwing following behind him, but he was glad he was bearing with it. He needed the insurance that someone wouldn’t try to take Danny while he didn’t have eyes on him.

When they did get to The Club, he and Nightwing watched as Danny walked inside with his jacket still wrapped around him. The kid was bombarded by several of the people still there, though they all backed off when he flinched, gently guiding him to a chair. Lucy was the one to come out and greet them.

“Thanks for bringing him back,” they said, their voice soft.

“It was no problem, Lu,” Red Hood shook his head slightly, his posture relaxed.

Lucy shook their head in denial. “No, I mean it. We were all so worried when he didn’t come back! The others had lost sight of him and came in panicking.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Nightwing stepped up next to Red Hood, “what happened?”

Lucy worried at their bottom lip, glancing at Red Hood, who nodded, before answering. “We always make sure to keep within sight of each other, just in case someone steps outta line. It’s for our safety. That, and keeping in lit areas. I wasn’t out tonight, but there were seven others on the street with him. There must’ve been a few seconds when they didn’t have eyes on Danny and he was nabbed because none of the others said that they saw anyone else out around the time he disappeared.” They met both vigilanties' eyes behind their masks. “Who was it, Hood?”

Nightwing was hesitant to tell, obviously having an idea of what would happen to the BJ. Red Hood had no such reservations. He knew the names and faces of everyone in Crime Alley, including the addresses of those who have them. They all know his rules and the punishments for not following them. “Go back for the night, Nightwing.”

“Hood-”

“No. Plausible deniability and all that.” he waved off, following Lucy as they led him into The Club. “Tell Batman I sent ya early because Alley business came up.”

“It’s no place for a Bat,” Nightwing sulked, “I know. Good night, you two!”

“Goodnight, Nightwing!” Lucy waved as the man grappled away. They turned back to Red Hood before opening the door. “Who was it?”

“Mr. Jameson in apartment 25 of the Katt Building near the middle of the Alley.”

They hummed and opened the door. “I’ll pass it on to everyone.”

The group of fifteen were comforting Danny, helping him clean up and offering an ear to listen to. Danny, throughout it all, was staring mostly blankly at the coffee table in the middle of the commons area. He only really reacted when someone gave him a dog plush. Though, that was only small, hesitant movements to take the plush and pull it close to his chest, Red Hood’s jacket still hiding him as though he were a child hiding from a lightning storm. And that’s what he was, a child hiding from the outside world because it hurt him.

Red Hood had to admit, though, that the guy’s cute. He was really hoping to meet him under better circumstances. Regardless, he took off his helmet, the domino underneath keeping his identity mostly safe from getting out, though he trusted everyone here to keep the secret if they ever found out. He knelt on the floor in front of Danny, keeping his movements slow and telegraphed as he made sure to stay in Danny’s line of sight. “Hey there, hun.”

Danny didn’t respond. He didn’t even move. His breathing had slowed back down to a normal pattern, though, and it seemed to be slowing even more.

Red Hood made sure not to touch him or get too close. “Hey, can you hear me?” he asked, “Blink if you can.”

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, very slowly, Danny blinked. Red Hood smiled at him.

“Good. I’m not gonna ask ya what happened, okay? None of us are. We’re gonna take care of the guy, though. He won’t ever bother you again, ‘kay?”

Again, his blink was slow, but tears slowly fell from his eyes as he did so. Relief seemed to wash over his expression as he relaxed into the couch, the jacket and plush being held slightly looser.

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to go somewhere else?”

The response was quiet, barely a whisper that Red Hood almost missed, “Somewhere else.”

Not too surprising. “Where do ya wanna go?”

“Home.”

“Where’s home?”

Danny didn’t answer as he pulled the jacket around the plush in his arms. Not a good sign, but it was an unfortunately common one for Crime Alley residence.

Red Hood thought for a second, mostly for show, before saying, “I’ve got a safe house you could stay in to recover. No one but me will know where you are if you don’t want them to. You’ll be able to stay as long as you want and you can leave at any time. Sound good?”

“Can Lu or May or Jakey know where it is?”

Not ideal, but anything to make him feel safer. “Of course they can know.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to tell them?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“We’ll touch base then,” He slowly stood back up. “Let me or one of the others know when you’re ready to go and I’ll take ya to the safe house. No rush. We’ll go at your pace.”

Stepping away for a second, he put his helmet back on and turned on his comms. He listened to the conversation he’d tuned into, knowing that Oracle would make him known if the others didn’t stop talking in a moment.

Sure enough, after about thirty seconds, she muted them all and said, “Red Hood, nice of you to join us.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he muttered, ‘Nothing particularly nice about this situation.”

“Oh?” Oracle asked, “What’s going on?”

“Ask Nightwing for details.” he said, “I’m not gonna answer calls for the next few days. Everyone stays out of Crime Alley until I say.” “So normal rules then?” He hummed in response. “Alright. Goodnight, Red Hood.”

Red Hood turned his com off completely, turning to face the kid on the couch and lean against the wall. Danny’s was gonna be okay. He was going to make sure that he’ll be okay.

Part 2 Part 4

[wcnderlnds]

carried away | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: getting to film a movie with seunghyun is all fine until you have to film a kissing scene ・❥・word count: 1.1k ・❥・warnings: n/a ・❥・ authors note: saw a video of tazza behind the scenes and was inspired 👀

Choi Seung-hyun was one of the most interesting people you had ever met. Not only was he a complete sweetheart but he was one heck of a talented actor. He could switch between himself and the character he was playing almost seamlessly. Not many actors had that kind of talent — some opting to stay in character through the whole shoot to not lose focus but not Seunghyun. When he was in character, he was locked in and when he was out of it, he was the fun, sweet guy that you had come to know over the last couple of months. It amazed you every single day.

When you’d first got the job to star alongside him, the nerves you’d felt were probably the worst you’d ever experienced. He was an icon, part of one of the biggest bands in the world. It was daunting knowing you were going to have to be face to face with one of K-Pops biggest idols. Turns out there had been no reason to worry whatsoever because he was the nicest person you’d ever met. The very first day you’d met on set he’d introduced himself politely, made sure you were comfortable and did everything he could to make it easy for you. It wasn’t your first job. You were pretty well known in the industry but every set was different. All the different actors and crew; sometimes you didn’t know what to expect. So far, this had been your favourite movie to work on. Did most of that have to do with Seunghyun? Absolutely.

Today was the day you had been dreading the most, though. Intimate scenes were always daunting to film but now you had to film one with Seunghyun. Oh, you were so screwed. Over the last few weeks, you had developed a little crush on your co-star. Not a word had been uttered to him but you were fairly sure you weren’t hiding it very well. The giggles at his every joke, the way you’d hang on to his every word, find any reason to be close to him — it was like you were a kid again with your very first crush and didn’t know how to act.

“You ready for this?” Seunghyun asked as the two of you stood waiting for the director to start the scene. He stood there, tie loose around his neck, his white shirt unbuttoned slightly showing off some of his chest. If you weren’t so nervous, you’d definitely be staring right now.

“Yeah,” you nodded, hands flexing at your sides. “I'm a little nervous but I’m ready.”

“I’ve got you, okay? You want to stop at any time just tell me and we will. We don’t even have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it. I’m sure we can think of a way around it,” he reached out to give your arm a reassuring squeeze. Even just a simple touch like that made your heart beat ten times faster so what the hell was going to happen to you the moment his lips met yours? 

“It’s okay, I promise. I’m glad it’s with you. I trust you.” A genuine smile adorned your face making Seunghyun smile, too. Was he blushing as well? Surely you were imagining that.

It wasn’t too long after when the director yelled action and it was all hands on deck. Before you could even prepare yourself (which you’d had plenty of time to do if you hadn’t been so nervous), Seunghyun’s hand was on the back of your head and his lips crashed against yours. The second his soft lips began to move, your head turned fuzzy. Your hands fisted in the shirt he was wearing as he backed you up onto the bed. As you laid back, he settled on top of you, his tongue tangling with yours. You knew you were supposed to be acting, that this was your character and not you but it didn’t stop you from getting lost in the way his lips fit so perfectly against yours. Or the way his body slotted between yours like a puzzle piece.

It wasn’t until Seunghyun pulled away — breathless and with red tinted cheeks — that you realised the director had shouted ‘cut’ over five minutes ago. You could feel the flush of your cheeks as the embarrassment coursed through you. Without a single word, you ran off the set to hide in your dressing room. If that wasn’t the most mortifying moment of your life, you didn’t know what was. How could you have gotten so lost that you didn’t realise the scene had ended? How unprofessional. 

It was five minutes later when you heard a knock on your door. You barely mumbled a “it’s open” when the handle turned and in walked Seunghyun. You had your head in your hands but as you heard him clear his throat, you looked up. There he stood looking as gorgeous as ever. 

“Can I…?” He gestured to the spot next to you on the couch. You nodded your head, resting your hands in your lap. He sat beside you, twisting his body slightly so he could look at you. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m embarrassed and mortified and really wish the ground would swallow me up right now.” The urge to hide your face again was strong but you fought against it. You had to be an adult and own up to what had happened. “I’m so sorry, Seunghyun. That was so unprofessional of me. I…I’m really sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t apologise. I could have stopped it sooner but… uh, I didn’t want to.”

Did you hear him correctly? He didn’t want to stop kissing you? 

“…what?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he let out a low chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. “I like you. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make a move without it being weird for a couple weeks now but nothing seemed right. But then when I kissed you and you didn’t seem to stop, I couldn’t help myself. If anything it was unprofessional of me.”

“Just a couple of unprofessionals then, huh?” You joked, gently nudging him with your elbow. “I like you too, by the way.”

“I know, you’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Shutup.”

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his side. “Want to get dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, I’d love to,” you smiled up at him, his eyes catching yours. It was so easy to get lost in him. Everything about him was so perfect. 

“For the time being, we have a lot of kissing to do because apparently we were too intense for the scene or something,” Seunghyun jokingly rolled his eyes, holding his hand out for you as he got to his feet. “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

If work meant you got to keep kissing the handsome man standing in front of you then you were more than happy to get back on set.

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