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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 3 days ago

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Daddy Issues - Johnny Seo x Reader

Now Playing: » Daddy Issues « The Neighbourhood 3:27 ─────〇─ 4:16 ⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻

Pairing: Johnny x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 15,382 Total Word Count: 49,636 Part 3 of 3 (Part 1) (Part 2) -

Playlist Masterlist NCT Masterlist

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, cunnilingus, mating press, pet names), Age Gap, minor angst, not bad but not great relationship with dad

Summary: 🎵 Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues 🎵 or No one makes Y/n feel more rejected that her father. That's what leads her to seek friendship with a bartender

A/N: bloody finALLY FINISHED!! I am literally at work as I post all of these, lol I am so sorry it took this long to publish this fic, I did not expect it to take this song, but I am so glad to have it done now, lol Anyways, I hope you enjoy this last part 💚

Johnny had texted her earlier in the evening. The message was short and simple.

I’m at work and it’s dead here. I’m bored out of my mind.

It didn’t take much for Y/n to offer to swing by and keep him company. After all, she wasn’t doing anything important, and Johnny always had a way of making her nights a little more interesting.

That’s how she found herself sitting at the far end of the bar, drink a dry lemonade with lime cordial while Johnny wiped down the counter.

The place was nearly empty, other than a couple of regulars. Music played softly in the background, just loud enough to fill the silence without overwhelming it.

Johnny leaned his elbows on the bar in front of her, a grin tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have to come, you know. I was more than happy to just text you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, well, I figured you’d find a way to rope me into coming over eventually. Might as well make it easy for you.”

He laughed, that low, easy sound that made it hard not to smile. “What can I say? I’m persuasive.”

God, his smile mad her head roll.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, you’re here, aren’t you?” He gave her a wink before straightening up and heading toward the other side as a new customer wandered in. “Hold that thought,” he said over his shoulder, his voice light.

Y/n watched him work, effortlessly slipping into bartender mode, greeting the customer, pouring a drink, and making casual conversation as usual.

When he returned, he placed his hands on the counter again, leaning slightly toward her. “Alright, where were we?”

“Me being the only salvation for your boredom,” she said.

Johnny tilted his head in mock offense. “Wow. I invite you to my workplace for free drinks and entertainment, and this is the respect I get?”

Y/n chuckled. “Free fizzy. Score!”

“Still counts.” He chuckled.

The night continued like that, easy banter and light-hearted teasing. As another hour passed, Y/n propped her chin on her hand, watching as Johnny restocked the shelves behind the bar.

“So, how long until you’re done here?” she asked, glancing at the clock.

“About an hour, give or take,” he said, turning around to face her. “Why, tired already?”

“Nope, just wondering if you wanna grab something to eat after.”

Johnny smiled. “You gonna try pay this time?”

Y/n sat up straighter. “Fucking right, I am.”

“We’ll see,” he said with a laugh before adding, “But yeah, that sounds good.”

And as Y/n sat there, watching Johnny work and listening to the low hum of music. It wasn’t a big night out or anything fancy, but sometimes, these were the best nights.

As the clock struck midnight and the last of the bar’s patrons filtered out, Johnny flipped the sign on the door to Closed and locked up.

Y/n leaned back in her seat, watching as he went through the motions of shutting everything down, cleaning glasses, wiping down the bar, and double-checking the till.

“Damn, you’re fast,” Y/n said, watching him place the last glass on the shelf.

“You learn how to close up quick when all you wanna do is get out and eat.” He shot her a grin before grabbing his jacket from behind the bar and slinging it over his shoulder. “Speaking of which, you still up for grabbing something?”

Y/n hopped off her chair. “Depends. Where are we going? Everything’s probably closed by now.”

Johnny glanced at the time on his phone and shrugged. “Yeah, nothing proper’s open this late, but…” He paused, giving her a knowing look. “I know a spot. It’s this little 24-hour fried chicken place. Greasy, messy, and definitely not gourmet, but it’s good. What do you say?”

Y/n’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. “I’m down.”

“Let’s go.” He opened the door for her, locking it behind them once she stepped out.

The night air was crisp, a faint chill brushing against their skin as they made their way to Johnny’s car parked out back. The ride was calm, the city around them dim and sleepy, with only the occasional streetlight illuminating their path.

A few minutes later, Johnny pulled up in front of a small joint with a neon sign that read Fried & True - Open 24/7. Despite the hour, the place still had a cozy, welcoming vibe, with warm light spilling out onto the pavement.

They got out, and as Johnny locked the car, he gave Y/n a glance. “This chicken is, no joke, the best you’ll ever try.”

Y/n laughed. “Big promises for fried chicken.”

“Hey, this is very serious for me,” Johnny said, clearly joking.

Inside, the smell of crispy fried goodness filled the air. Y/n looked around the little store and smiled. When Johnny was about to approach the counter, Y/n rushed in front.

“Ah! No, you sit your ass down, you ain’t paying for this!” Y/n pointed to a table off to the side.

Johnny huffed out a chuckle before walking over to take a seat. Looking up at the menu, Y/n chose three different flavours of chicken and some chips to go.

As Y/n made her way over to the table, Johnny leaned back in his seat, eyes half-lidded but still full of that lazy charm. “So, did hanging out at the bar beat whatever else you had planned tonight?”

Y/n snorted. “You mean staying home doing fuck all? Yeah, you win.”

“Well, yeah. I was always gonna win.” He jested. “I’m pretty good company?”

“I don’t know,” Y/n teased, resting her chin in her hand. “You did trick me into hanging out at an empty bar for hours.”

“And now you get to hang out with me, that’s a pretty good deal,” Johnny shot back.

Before Y/n could respond, their food arrived, neatly packed in to-go boxes. Johnny grabbed the bag and held the door open for her as they stepped back outside.

The ride back was quiet, Y/n rested her head against the window, content with how the night had turned out. Soon, they arrived at Johnny’s apartment. He parked, grabbed the bag of food, and led the way up.

Inside, Y/n made herself comfortable on the couch while Johnny disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning with plates and drinks.

He set everything down on the coffee table and handed her a plate.

“After this, you’ll never think of another fried chicken again,” he joked, opening the to-go box.

Y/n laughed, grabbing a piece of chicken. “I don’t doubt it.”

They ate together, the conversation flowing easily between bites. Johnny put on some show in the background, creating a relaxed atmosphere. The food was exactly as good as Johnny had promised.

“We should do this more often,” Y/n said, leaning back against the couch.

Johnny grinned, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Told you. Stick around, and I’ll introduce you to all the best things.”

Y/n chuckled, finishing off the last of her fries. Johnny leaned back in his seat as his gaze rested on Y/n, his expression calm but thoughtful.

Y/n met his eyes, and for a moment, she felt that familiar flutter in her chest. Her mind drifted back to that night at the club, the things he’d said, the way he’d looked at her, the intensity behind his words.

Her heart dropped. It hadn’t left her mind since.

Shifting slightly in her seat and lowering her eyes to the floor, Y/n hesitated before speaking. “Uh, Johnny…”

“Yes, Y/n?” he responded, his eyes searched hers curiously.

“Do you…remember what you said to me at the club the other week?” she asked, her voice quieter now, uncertain.

Johnny’s posture stiffened just slightly, his gaze falling to his hands. He shifted in his seat, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his voice low. “I remember.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart racing. “Can you…explain what you meant?”

She didn’t want to tiptoe around it anymore. His words had been replaying in her mind all week, how he said he’d make her feel special, feel good, feel worthy.

But that night, they’d both been under the influence of alcohol, and she wanted clarity, wanted to hear it from him while they were both sober.

Johnny sighed, running a hand through his hair as if trying to figure out where to begin. “Yeah…you should know,” he said, his tone softening.

He leaned back into the couch, settling in as if preparing himself for a long explanation. “My dad…left me and my mum when I was young.”

Y/n’s brows furrowed in confusion. What?

“I was probably five or six when he walked out on us…I never knew where he went, but he still sent money to my mum every now and then,” Johnny said, his voice quiet, distant.

Y/n blinked, trying to process what he was saying. What on earth was he talkin–

Shit.

Suddenly, it hit her. Johnny had briefly mentioned at the club how he could relate to her daddy issues. Her heart sank as she remembered that moment.

She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, seeing the pain on his face, she realised how deeply it ran. Her face dropped, filled with sorrow as she listened.

“I hated him,” Johnny admitted, his voice growing heavier. “He ruined my life without even being in it.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a second, as though trying to keep himself composed. “Then when I was seventeen, I got news from my mum that…he died.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her gaze falling to Johnny’s hands. She noticed the slight tremor in them and how his eyes glistened, the emotions he tried to bury rising to the surface. Without thinking, she reached out and gently took his hand in hers, squeezing it in silent support.

“I didn’t cry when he left at first,” Johnny continued, his voice breaking slightly.

“But when I found out he was dead, I couldn’t stop. That’s when I realised...I would never have a father present in my life. Not even the hope of one.” His voice cracked, and before Y/n could say anything, tears began to roll down his cheeks.

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She launched forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Johnny didn’t resist, instead, he let himself fall into her comfort, his broad shoulders trembling as he broke down.

Y/n had never seen Johnny like this before. He was always the strong one, the one who picked up her broken emotions, who made things better with his happy nature and warm presence. But now, here he was, vulnerable and raw, the weight of years of buried pain finally catching up to him.

“It’s okay, Johnny,” she whispered, gently running her hand through his hair. “You don’t have to hold it all in anymore. I’m here.”

He clung to her like she was the only thing grounding him at that moment, his tears dampening her shirt, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was being there for him, the way he’d always been there for her.

Minutes passed, and slowly, Johnny’s sobs began to fade. His breathing steadied, but he didn’t loosen his grip on Y/n. He clung to her as he released the emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

Y/n rested her chin on his shoulder, her hand rubbing slow circles on his back. She remembered how many times Johnny had comforted her, his words, his comfort, the way he always seemed to know what to say to make things better. Now, it was her turn.

“You know,” she began softly, her voice low but steady, “you are so amazing. You’ve grown up to be an amazing man. That fuckhead missed out on a wonderful son.”

Johnny’s breath hitched slightly, but he stayed silent, listening.

“You always make things better for me,” Y/n continued. “Whenever I felt like I couldn’t handle things, you were there. You didn’t judge me, didn’t ask for anything in return. You just stayed. And that helped more than you know.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders. “I will always be here for you when you need me.”

Johnny swallowed hard, his eyes still glassy with tears, but she could see how her words hit him. He was always the shoulder to lean on, he never really had the sentiment returned until now.

Johnny sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he tried to sit up straighter, regaining his composure. “God, that was embarrassing,” he muttered, avoiding Y/n’s gaze.

Y/n tilted her head. “If that was embarrassing, then I should be humiliated after all the times I cried my heart out to you.”

Johnny paused, glancing at her, and for the first time since the conversation began, a genuine chuckle escaped his lips. “Go ahead and cry all you want, I can’t judge you.”

They laughed together, the tension slowly easing into something lighter, something more familiar. Without saying anything else, Johnny reached out, pulling Y/n into his arms. This time, it wasn’t for comfort, it was just to hold her, like a giant teddy bear, solid and warm.

Y/n leaned into him, letting herself relax against his chest. They didn’t need words. The TV played softly in the background, filling the room with a quiet hum as they sat there, wrapped in each other’s presence.

This wasn’t the conversation she had planned to have, but it was one she truly appreciated. Seeing Johnny open up, laying bare emotions he usually kept hidden behind his easygoing exterior, made her realise just how much he cared.

It wasn’t an easy conversation, but in that moment, she knew it brought them closer.

Y/n stared at her phone, blinking a few times to make sure she was reading the email correctly.

Congratulations on your Achievement! You’ve been selected to receive an award for excelling in Biochemistry this semester. Please attend the prizegiving ceremony on…

The words practically leapt off the screen, and before she could stop herself, a wide grin spread across her face.

She reread the email, just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it, and then immediately jumped to her feet, excitement bubbling up inside her.

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed to herself, clutching the phone tightly.

For a moment, Y/n stood there, feeling a bit silly for how excited she was over a university award. It wasn’t like she was getting a Nobel Prize or anything, but still…it made her feel good.

Better about herself, actually. All those late nights cramming in the library, those moments where she thought she wasn’t smart enough, weren’t for nothing after all. Someone had noticed her efforts, and that recognition, however small, felt like a win.

And hey, there were gift vouchers that came with these awards, which was definitely a nice bonus.

Still smiling to herself, Y/n couldn’t help but think of Johnny. She felt a little ridiculous wanting to tell him right away, but he’d always been the one cheering her on when she was doubting herself the most.

She almost started typing a message to Johnny, but then paused, biting her lip. As much as she wanted to tell him, she knew Yangyang would give her shit if he found out she’d told someone else before him.

She quickly pulled up his number and gave him a call.

“Hey, what’s up?” Yangyang’s voice came through, light and cheerful as always.

“I just got an email…I’m getting an award for being an excelling student in biochem,” Y/n said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

“Yo! Really?!” Yangyang exclaimed. “We have to go out to celebrate. Clubbing! Shots! Full-on party mode.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, laughing. “Yeah, no. I was thinking of something a little more chill. We already went clubbing a couple weeks ago.”

“Fine, fine,” Yangyang teased. “How about dinner, then? I’ll take you somewhere nice.”

“That sounds perfect,” Y/n said, smiling. “Thanks, Yangyang.”

“Of course! You deserve it,” he said sincerely.

Y/n hung up the call, still grinning from ear to ear. She clutched her phone tightly, her giddy mood refusing to fade.

She had to go tell her dad. He’d definitely be proud of her, she was sure of it. Y/n ran downstairs, her excitement bubbling over as she entered the living room.

Her dad was sitting on the couch, watching TV, his attention fully on the screen. She hesitated for a moment, feeling a sudden rush of nerves before shaking it off.

“Dad?” she called out, stepping closer.

His eyes didn’t leave the tv. “Mhmm.”

“I just got an email,” Y/n said, trying to keep her voice steady, though the excitement spilled through in her tone. “I’m getting an award for being one of the top students in biochem.”

Her dad’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Really? That’s incredible, Bub.”

Before she could say another word, he stood up, walking over to her. To her surprise, he wrapped her in a tight hug, patting her back firmly. “I’m so proud of you. That’s really good, Bub.”

Y/n felt her throat tighten, overwhelmed by the warmth of his words. He didn’t say things like this often, but when he did, it stayed with her. She hugged him back, savouring the rare moment.

“Thanks, Dad,” she murmured, her voice soft.

He pulled back, stroking her hair in that familiar, affectionate way. “I’ll take you out some time to celebrate.”

As he settled back onto the couch, Y/n sat down beside him, still basking in the moment.

“I’ll forward the email to you, with the details of the prizegiving and stuff,” Y/n said.

“Sweet,” He said, his attention back on the tv.

Y/n returned home after dinner with Yangyang, they’d laughed over pasta, drank glasses of fizzy, and toasted to her success. As she kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed, a thought struck her.

I still haven’t told Johnny!

She sat up quickly, clutching her phone. She hit his contact and waited for the call to connect.

“Hey, Y/n. What’s up?” Johnny’s familiar voice came through the phone.

“Okay, so…I have some news!” Y/n blurted, still unable to contain her excitement.

“Yeah?” His tone was light, curious.

“I got an award for biochem!” she said proudly, her heart racing as she waited for his reaction.

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Johnny’s voice filled with excitement. “Are you serious? Y/n, that’s amazing! Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!”

Y/n felt her face heat up at his praise, a giddy blush creeping across her cheeks. “Thanks, Johnny. It feels kinda silly being this excited about it, but–”

“Hey, don’t even start. You should be excited! This is a big deal!” Johnny cut in, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. “You worked your ass off. Honestly, you’re incredible.”

Her heart pounded at his words, and she couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. “Stop, you’re embarassing me.”

“You deserve all the praise,” he said with a chuckle. “Okay, so when are we going out to celebrate? My treat.”

Y/n winced a little, feeling bad. “Uh…so…Yangyang already took me out for dinner.”

“Damn,” Johnny muttered. “He beat me to it. What else can we do, then?”

Y/n thought for a moment before an idea popped into her head, her voice turning playful. “Well…we didn’t get dessert.”

Johnny let out a low laugh. “Dessert, huh? I’ll pick you up in twenty.”

Y/n giggled, feeling her heart flutter. “Okay. See you soon.”

As she hung up, she found herself grinning from ear to ear. Having a good meal with Yangyang, and now having desert with Johnny.

Could this night get any better?

Twenty minutes later, Y/n heard the familiar rumble of Johnny’s car pulling up outside. She grabbed her jacket, still buzzing with excitement, and hurried out the door. As she approached the car, Johnny rolled down the window and grinned at her.

“Hey, superstar,” he greeted, his voice teasing yet warm.

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Don’t embarrass me, it’s just a uni award. And thanks for coming out this late.”

“Anything for you.” He winked as Y/n slid into the passenger seat and buckled in.

“Picked up a cake on the way. We can celebrate back at mine.” he said, reaching into the back seat and placing a box on her lap.

Y/n opened the box to reveal a beautifully decorated cake, and her heart swelled at the thoughtful gesture. “Johnny…you didn’t have to do this. Ice cream would have been fine.”

He shrugged, putting the car in drive. “Of course I did. I mean, how often do you get an award? Gotta do it right.”

Her cheeks flushed, the weight of his words sinking in. She wasn’t used to someone going out of their way for her like this, and Johnny made it feel so effortless. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said with a smirk, earning a playful shove from Y/n. “But seriously, you deserve it. Tonight’s about you.”

As they drove through the quiet streets, the excitement of the day still lingered in Y/n’s chest, but now it was mixed with a warmth only Johnny seemed to bring out in her. Celebrating at his place, just the two of them, sounded perfect.

Once they got to Johnny’s place, Y/n kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the couch. She watched as Johnny disappeared into the kitchen, rummaging around with an air of determined enthusiasm.

A few moments later, he returned, balancing a tray loaded with a couple of cans of fizzy, plates, utensils, and, of course, the cake, now topped with a single candle flickering softly. He set everything down on the coffee table and grinned at her.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, eyeing the candle. “Johnny, that isn’t necessary. It’s not my birthday.”

“Nonsense.” He gave her a playful look, lighting the candle with a lighter. “You’re celebrating something big. That’s worth a wish and a candle, don’t you think?”

She tried to hide her smile but failed miserably. With a small laugh, she leaned forward, clasped her hands together, and closed her eyes. “If my wish doesn’t come true, I blame you.”

Johnny chuckled. “Sounds fair.”

Y/n took a deep breath, made her wish, and blew out the candle. The tiny flame blew out, leaving only a trail of smoke floating into the air. Johnny clapped lightly, grinning like it was a real birthday celebration.

“Congratulations! What did you wish for?” he asked immediately.

You.

“I’m not telling! It won’t come true if I do,” she laughed, shaking her head as he grabbed the knife to cut the cake.

“Come on! You just said making a wish wasn’t necessary, now you won’t even tell me your wish,” Johnny said, slicing generous pieces of cake and placing them on plates.

“I ain’t taking no chances,” Y/n said as she accepted her slice.

Johnny grabbed his slice of cake and plopped down on the couch next to Y/n, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed.

He handed her a fork with a little smirk. “Go on, you’ve earned it. First bite goes to the award-winner.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “It’s not that amazing, Johnny,” she mumbled, taking a bite nonetheless.

Johnny leaned back against the couch, watching her with that same teasing glint in his eyes. “Don’t downplay it. You clearly worked your ass off for this. You should be proud.”

“You know what, yeah, I should be!” she replied playfully, flashing him a grin. “I’m amazing!”

He chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “There’s my good girl.”

Her fork froze halfway to her mouth, her heart suddenly racing.

“Oh, so you do remember what I said back at the club,” she muttered.

Johnny leaned in a little, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “Of course, I remember.” His tone softened, losing some of its teasing edge. “And I meant it.”

Y/n couldn’t look away from him. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, and her mind scrambled to make sense of what she was hearing.

Where was all of this coming from? There was no alcohol to blame this time, no hazy late-night atmosphere clouding their words.

“You have no idea what I would do for you, Y/n.” His voice was low as he carefully placed his slice of cake down on the coffee table.

Leaning back, he allowed his gaze to sweep over her, as if taking in every detail, memorizing her stunned expression in that moment.

“If you were mine, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give you,” he said quietly, the sincerity in his voice sending a shiver down her spine. “All you’d have to do is ask. You’re too precious to be treated like an afterthought.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. She was shocked, trapped in his steady gaze, the weight of his confession pressing down on her in the most unexpected way.

“Johnny–” she began, but he cut her off with a sigh, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his head dropping briefly before he lifted it again, meeting her eyes with raw emotion.

“I know I shouldn’t be saying these things to you,” he murmured, his voice tinged with guilt. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you, but I can’t help it, Y/n. I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I see you…it’s like nothing else matters.”

The longing in his eyes was unmistakable, and it pulled at something deep inside her. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself.

“Johnny…” she whispered, unsure of what to say, yet feeling the weight of his vulnerability settle over her.

There was no teasing smirk on his face this time, no playful comment to ease the tension. This was real, raw, and it left her breathless.

She didn’t know what to say, but she knew exactly what she wanted. Her mind was racing, yet her heart seemed to know the answer before she did.

“Can you…tell me more?” she whispered, her voice soft but steady.

Johnny’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting that response. For a moment, he just stared at her, as if trying to gauge whether she truly meant it. When he saw the sincerity in her expression, something in his gaze softened, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease.

Y/n carefully placed her own slice of cake down on the coffee table and, without thinking too much, scooted closer to him. The space between them was now nearly nonexistent, and she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I want to hear it,” she said, her eyes locked on his as she placed her hand on top of his. “I want to know how you feel…because I don’t think you realise how much it means to me.”

Johnny exhaled slowly, his hand turning over to entwine his fingers with hers. His thumb gently traced the back of her hand, grounding himself in the moment.

“Y/n, you deserve so much more than you get, and I want to be the one to give you that,” he said quietly. “I want to give you everything your dad couldn’t.”

Her breath hitched at his words, a blush creeping up her neck. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like this. And yet, here Johnny was, laying it all bare without hesitation.

The air between them grew heavier, charged with something neither of them could deny. Y/n felt her pulse quicken as Johnny’s gaze locked onto hers, deep and unwavering. Neither of them said a word, but the tension between them spoke volumes.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “If I was your little girl…what would you do to me right now?”

The question hung in the air, a quiet echo of the conversation they’d had back at the bar, only now, there was nothing playful about it. Her words were laced with vulnerability and something more daring.

Johnny’s eyes darkened, his expression shifting into something more serious, more intense. He inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself, and leaned in just a little closer, his voice low.

“Whatever you want me to,” he murmured, his tone smooth and steady, but with an edge of restraint.

Y/n’s breath hitched at his response, a shiver running down her spine. He was waiting for her next move, giving her control over whatever came next. Her fingers tightened slightly around his, and for a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

“Then…” she said, her voice soft and her eyes flicking to his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Kiss me.”

Johnny didn’t hesitate. He jolted forward, closing the small gap between them, his free hand gently cupping her cheek. The moment their lips met, it was soft yet electrifying, the sweet taste of cake still lingering on their lips. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut as she melted into the kiss, her heart racing faster with every second.

It wasn’t hurried or desperate, it was slow and full of emotion as if Johnny was pouring everything he felt for her into that single moment. His thumb brushed her cheek before falling behind her neck, holding her.

Her lips parted slightly, her own breathing hitching as her body leaned instinctively closer. “Johnny…” she whispered, her voice barely audible against Johnny’s lips, but it was all the encouragement he needed.

The kiss became deeper, more desperate, as if a dam had broken between them. His hand on her neck pulled her closer as his other arm wrapped around her waist. Y/n let herself sink into him, her hands gripping his shoulders before sliding up to tangle in his hair.

He pulled back briefly, just enough to murmur against her lips. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” His voice was thick, his hand at her waist tightening slightly, his thumb brushing the curve of her hip.

Y/n’s heart raced, her cheeks flushing as she met his gaze. “Good,” she replied, her voice shaky but teasing, a boldness rising within her. “Because you do the same to me.”

Johnny groaned softly, a deep, frustrated sound that sent a thrill through her. He leaned forward, pressing her back against the couch as his lips found hers again.

This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. His hand slid under the hem of her shirt, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of her waist, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

Y/n gasped softly at the contact, her body arching into him instinctively. She could feel the tension between them building, unable to ignore it.

“Tell me to stop,” Johnny whispered against her lips, his voice raw and breathless.

His forehead rested against hers, his chest rising and falling with the same uneven rhythm as hers. “If this is too much, if I’m too much, just tell me, and I’ll stop.”

But Y/n shook her head, her hands clutching at his shirt, her eyes locking with his. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice firm and certain. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all Johnny needed. His lips crashed against hers again, growing more consuming. The intensity of the moment was magnetic, pulling them into their own world where nothing else existed, just the heat between them, their breaths, and the electric connection they shared.

Johnny’s lips left hers, trailing a path down the side of her face, slow and deliberate, as though savouring every inch of her. His mouth lingered at her jawline, where he pressed a series of soft, teasing kisses before suckling gently at her skin.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut as a wave of warmth coursed through her. She tilted her head instinctively, granting him more access, her heart pounding in her chest. She let herself melt into his touch, her body surrendering entirely to him.

Johnny’s tongue slipped out, gliding along the curve of her jaw in a way that sent sparks shooting through her veins. He moved lower, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched. The gentle scrape of his teeth followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue made her pulse race even faster.

Her hands clung to the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself against the dizzying sensations he was creating. She felt her body respond instinctively, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

Every nerve seemed to come alive under his touch, every thought replaced by the overwhelming reality of him.

“Johnny…” she whispered, her voice trembling with the pleasure his lips promised.

Her mind struggled to grasp what was happening, but her heart didn’t care, it was doing backflips, completely lost in the moment.

Johnny pulled back slightly, his breath hot against her skin, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. His eyes were dark, filled with a desire he no longer tried to hide.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick, every word laced with raw honesty.

Her lips parted as if to respond, but the words never came. Instead, her hand lifted, fingers brushing against his cheek before sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

Johnny didn’t hesitate, his lips finding hers again, capturing them in a kiss that was deeper. His hands slid to her waist, gripping her firmly, as though she were something precious in his grasp.

She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss grew more urgent, their breaths mingling as they explored this newfound connection.

But then Johnny stilled, his lips hovering just above hers as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. His breath came in shallow and his voice was quiet when he spoke.

“Y/n…” he began, his hands settling on her hips, steadying her. “You deserve more than this.”

She blinked up at him, dazed, her lips swollen and her heart racing. “What do you mean?”

He smiled softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I mean you deserve better than a couch,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and care. “If I’m going to do this, if I’m going to show you how much you mean to me, it’s going to be right.”

Johnny broke their kiss with a sharp exhale, his chest heaving as he sat back on the couch, his hands still resting on her waist.

For a moment, he just looked at her, his eyes tracing every detail of her face as if committing her to memory. Then, with a sudden movement, he rose to his feet, towering over her.

Y/n blinked up at him, her breath catching in her throat as he extended a hand toward her. His fingers brushed hers before he clasped her hand firmly, tugging her up from the couch in one smooth motion.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice laced with a determination that sent shivers down her spine.

She barely had time to process before Johnny was leading her through the dimly lit space, his grip on her hand strong and steady. He pulled her through the house quickly, basically dragging her down the hall.

He pushed open the bedroom door without hesitation. Johnny turned to face her, still holding her hand as he pulled her closer. His free hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as his gaze searched hers.

“I don’t want to rush this,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less intent. “But I can’t keep holding back, not when I’ve wanted this–wanted you, for so long.”

Y/n’s lips parted, her heart pounding as she nodded, her fingers tightening around his. “I don’t want you to hold back,” she whispered, her voice trembling but sure.

Johnny smiled then, a mix of relief and longing, and he guided her inside, letting the door fall closed behind them.

The moment the door clicked shut, Johnny’s lips were on hers again, claiming her with a hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. His hands slid up to her shoulders, his touch firm yet careful as he guided her backward toward the bed. Y/n clung to his shirt, her fingers holding the fabric as if letting go would take her away from this moment.

With each slow step, the air between them grew heavier. When the back of her knees finally met the edge of the mattress, Johnny’s hands traced down her arms before gently pressing against her waist, easing her down onto the soft sheets.

Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, her heart somersaulting in her chest. The dim glow from the window cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the warmth in his half-lidded eyes. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders filling her vision, his arms on either side of her as he hovered just above.

Johnny dipped his head, his lips ghosting over her cheek as he whispered, his voice low and full of promise. “I’m gonna take real good care of you, Y/n.”

The warmth of his breath sent a delicious shiver through her, and as he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, she knew she was his, and she had never felt safer handing herself over.

The kiss he pressed against her lips was filled with a hunger that neither of them could suppress any longer. Their hands roamed, fingers grasping and tugging at fabric, desperate to feel more skin, more heat, more of each other.

Johnny straightened as he reached behind his head, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The moment he tossed it aside, Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her gaze instinctively dropping to his muscular chest. The way the light from the window traced over his toned muscles made it impossible to look away, until Johnny’s eyes found hers again, dark with intent.

She pushed up onto her elbows, her fingers moving to the hem of her own shirt, but Johnny was quicker. His hands slipped beneath the fabric, brushing against her skin as he lifted it over her head and tossed it aside. Before she could take another breath, he was back, his lips claiming hers once more as she melted beneath him.

His touch was slow, his large hands gliding down her sides, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When his fingers reached the waistband of her pants, he paused, his grip tightening slightly as if asking for permission.

Y/n arched her hips in silent approval, and Johnny wasted no time, pulling the fabric down her legs with a tantalising slowness that sent a thrill through her.

Johnny pulled away again, and the loss of his lips left Y/n aching and breathless, her body instinctively leaning forward as if to chase him. But then his hand dropped to the button of his pants, and her breath hitched.

She didn’t look away. Instead, she slowly shuffled back toward the centre of the bed, settling against the pillows, waiting, watching. The anticipation in her gaze, the way her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, it made Johnny pause for a second, his lips curling into the faintest smirk.

Johnny’s gaze lingered on her as he slowly undid his belt. “You’re making it hard to focus, Y/n,” he murmured

Y/n’s lips curled into a smile, her eyes not leaving his. “I’m not doing anything.”

Johnny chuckled softly as he grabbed his pants. “You don’t have to.”

Johnny pushed his pants down, letting them drop to the floor before stepping out of them. His movements quick, trying to get back to her as quickly as possible. Y/n’s breath hitched as her eyes traced over the sharp lines of his body.

Before she could process anything else, Johnny was back on top of her, his hands slipping around her waist as he guided her back down against the mattress. She squeaked and grabbed his shoulders as he moved her.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her jaw as he settled above her. “I’ve got you.”

Johnny’s lips found hers again, his hands roamed over her body, fingers tracing every curve. His kiss was consuming, leaving her breathless, her hands gripping onto his shoulders as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

A soft hum escaped her as he pressed a trail of kisses down her neck. But then she let out a breathless laugh, tilting her head to the side.

“Johnny,” she murmured against his lips, “we still have our underwear on. Not much we can do with that.”

Johnny pulled back slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyes dark with amusement. “Oh,” he murmured, dragging his fingers along her waist, “there are plenty of things I can do with it still on.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “But since you wanna get to it…”

Johnny’s fingers traced the straps of her bra, his touch featherlight as he slipped them down her shoulders. His lips followed, pressing soft, lingering kisses against the newly exposed skin.

He reached behind her, unhooking the clasp. His gaze darkened as he took her in as he pulled the fabric away.

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration.

His hands trailed lower, gliding over her hips before slipping beneath the thin fabric of her underwear. He took his time, savouring the moment as he dragged it down her thighs, letting it join the rest of their discarded clothing.

Johnny sat back for a moment, his eyes raking over her, drinking in every inch of her bare form. The heat in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, anticipation churning in her stomach. His lips parted slightly, his breathing deep and measured as if he was trying to compose himself.

“God, Y/n…” he exhaled.

His own followed, discarded just as quickly, giving her no time to look herself as he was back, closer than before, his body flush against hers. His lips found hers again, hungrier than ever.

“I wanna taste you,” Johnny gasped against her lips.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering open in shock. “T-taste me?” she stammered.

But Johnny didn’t answer, his lips curled into a smirk before he began his descent, trailing heated kisses down her neck, her collarbone, over the swell of her chest, and lower still.

When he reached her hips, he grasped them firmly, pressing one last kiss to her navel before pushing her legs apart. His hands held her thighs steady, his grip firm as he settled between them.

A soft whimper escaped her lips as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He was taking his time, savouring the moment, watching her every reaction.

Her heart pounded, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside her as he inched closer to her core. She barely had time to process the intensity in his gaze before he finally closed the distance, his lips latching onto her sensitive clit.

A sharp gasp tore from her throat, her back arching as pleasure flooded her senses. Johnny groaned against her, his grip tightening as he pushed her thighs further apart, making room for himself.

Johnny’s tongue performed magic, delving into her opening before gliding back up to flick against her bundle of nerves. The way he moved had Y/n unravelling beneath him, her body trembling with every stroke of his tongue.

The pleasure was overwhelming, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. A breathy moan escaped her lips as her fingers instinctively tangled into his dark hair, gripping tightly in a desperate attempt to ground herself.

Her thighs twitched, instinctively trying to shut, but Johnny wasn’t having it. His strong hands tightened around her thighs, keeping her wide open for him. He let out a low hum of approval, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through her.

“Don’t hide from me, sweetheart,” he murmured against her, the heat of his breath making her shiver. “I want to taste every bit of you.”

Y/n whimpered, her chest rising and falling rapidly as Johnny continued, his tongue slipping inside her again before coming back to swirl around her sensitive bud. Her fingers clenched in his hair, tugging slightly, but Johnny only groaned in response, watching the way she was falling apart under his touch.

“Johnny,” she moaned, her voice trembling, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as she felt her insides tighten as her orgasm neared.

Johnny must have noticed too, with the way her thighs tensed and the way her body trembled beneath him, because just when she was on the edge, he pressed one last, lingering kiss against her mound before pulling back completely, leaving her aching and empty.

A shocked whimper slipped out Y/n’s lips, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared at him in utter disbelief. Her legs were still open, her body overwhelming with unfulfilled pleasure, and yet Johnny was pulling away, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

“What the fuck?” she breathed, her voice filled with frustration.

Johnny merely chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he licked the corner of his mouth with his tongue. Without another word, he shifted, moving back up her body until they were face to face, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

His lips hovered just above hers, teasing. “Relax, little girl,” he murmured, his breath warm against her lips. “I just wanna feel you fall apart around me the right way.”

Johnny didn’t give her a chance to protest, not that she could have, not when his lips crashed back against hers, stealing whatever breath she had left.

The kiss was deep and slow, and it wasn’t long before she tasted herself on his tongue. The realization sent a new wave of heat rushing through her, her body responding instantly to the way he moved against her.

His hands found her thighs, fingers digging in as he gripped them firmly, guiding them up and around his hips. The shift brought them even closer, her body molding perfectly beneath his.

His fingers traced slow, soothing circles against her skin, as if grounding her in the moment. “You ready?” His voice was husky, thick with restraint, but his eyes were burning with need, they left no doubt about how much he wanted this. Wanted her.

Y/n swallowed hard, nodding as her fingers curled around his biceps. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I’m ready, Johnny.”

With one last lingering kiss, he adjusted his hold on her legs, pulling her in closer. Reaching between the two, Johnny lined himself up, right at her entrance. And then, finally, he began to push forward, inch by inch, stretching and filling her in a way that had her gasping his name all over again.

Johnny groaned as he eased into her, his grip on her thighs tightening as he fought to keep himself steady. Y/n's breath hitched, her fingers digging into his arms, anchoring herself as he filled her completely.

He stilled for a moment, pressing his forehead to hers, giving her time to adjust. His hands soothed over her skin, trailing from her thighs to her waist, grounding her.

"You okay?" His voice was strained, his self-control hanging by a thread.

Y/n let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding. “Mhmm,” she hummed, rolling her hips just slightly, letting him know she wanted more.

That was all it took for Johnny’s restraint to snap. A low curse left his lips as he pulled back, then pushed in again, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had Y/n gasping, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through her.

“Johnny..” Her voice broke, pleasure unraveling her completely.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips before capturing them in a kiss.

One of his hands slipped between them, his fingers finding her clit and sent her spiraling, drawing even more pleasure from her until she was arching beneath him, lost in sensation.

Johnny’s voice was a low murmur against her lips. “You like that, little girl?”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling with every heated second between them. Johnny’s lips traveled to her jaw, pressing rough kisses against her skin. His teeth grazed lightly before he nibbled, making her exhale a soft, trembling sigh.

“You sound so sweet when you breathe like that,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Y/n gripped onto him, her body melting into his touch. “Johnny…” she whispered, the way she said his name making his grip tighten.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxed, his lips brushing just below her ear.

Y/n’s lips parted, but all she could manage was a breathless, desperate, “More.”

Johnny’s eyes darkened, his grip on her thighs tightening as a slow smirk tugged at his lips. “More?” he echoed, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “I can give you more, baby.”

Without another word, he adjusted his hold, lifting her legs and hooking them over his shoulders. The new angle had her gasping, her fingers gripping onto his arms as he pressed into her deeper, forcing her body to submit entirely to him.

“That’s it,” Johnny murmured, his voice low and commanding.

Y/n’s back arched, her body surrendering completely as his pace grew more rough. He held her there, locked in place, making sure she felt every inch of him, every movement that sent her spiraling further into submission.

His name fell from her lips in broken, breathless whimpers, her fingers clutching desperately at the sheets beneath her. The intensity was overwhelming, his pace slow but deep, each movement sending heat curling deep in her core.

Johnny watched her, eyes dark and filled with something primal. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands gripping her thighs as he pushed deeper, the new angle making her toes curl. “You feel that? How good you take me?”

All Y/n could do was nod, her voice failing her, reduced to soft moans and gasps as pleasure crashed over her in waves. Johnny leaned forward, folding her even further beneath him, his lips ghosting over hers as his breath mixed with hers.

“Let go, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. “Give it to me.”

Her body trembled, the pressure in her core tightening, building to something uncontrollable. And when Johnny rolled his hips just right, she shattered, her cry muffled against his lips as her orgasm overtook her.

Johnny groaned, feeling her pulse around him, his grip on her tightening as he chased his own release. A few more deep thrusts, and he was right there with her, a low moan spilling from his lips as he buried himself deep, his body trembling against hers as he filled her with his hot cum.

For a moment, neither of them moved, their ragged breaths the only sound in the quiet room. Johnny finally exhaled, pressing slow, lazy kisses to her collarbone as he dropped her legs back down, his fingers tracing soothing circles on her skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with tenderness.

Y/n let out a small, breathy laugh, her arms wrapping around his neck as she nuzzled into him. “Better than okay.”

Johnny smirked against her skin, but this time, there was no teasing edge, just warmth. He pulled her closer, their bodies still tangled together as their breathing slowly evened out.

“You did so well,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Not just now, but with the award. I’m proud of you, Y/n.”

Y/n let out a sleepy hum, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against his back. “Mmm…Thank you, Johnny.” Her voice was drowsy, content.

He smiled, smoothing a hand over her hair. “You deserve it, you know? You work hard. And I love seeing you shine.”

A warmth spread through her chest at his words, and she tightened her hold around him. “Means a lot coming from you.”

Johnny chuckled, nudging her nose with his before settling deeper into the mattress. “Get some rest, baby,” he whispered, his voice softer now. “You earned it.”

With one last lingering kiss, they drifted off, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the night settling into a peaceful stillness.

She didn’t know when her luck got so good, but she wasn’t about to complain.

But of course, Y/n’s luck never lasted long. It never did.

The next morning, she woke to an empty bed, the warmth from the night before already faded. But that didn’t bother her, not after everything that had happened.

Sitting up, she stretched, the golden morning light spilling through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. They’d been too caught up in each other to even think about drawing the curtains. A small smile tugged at her lips at the memory.

Her gaze drifted across the room, searching for any sign of Johnny, but all that remained was the faint scent of him lingering in the sheets. With a quiet sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for the scattered clothes on the floor, slipping them back on one by one.

As Y/n slipped her shirt over her head, she stepped out of the bedroom, her bare feet padding softly against the cool floor. The moment she entered the living room, she spotted Johnny pacing back and forth, his jaw clenched, one hand running through his hair.

She paused in the doorway, brows furrowing. “Johnny?” Her voice was soft, cautious. “You good?”

He stopped but didn’t turn right away. His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath before he finally faced her.

That’s when she saw it, something was wrong. It was written all over his face. The tension in his features, the way his fingers flexed at his sides, like he was holding something back.

Y/n took a slow step forward. “Johnny…what’s going on?”

Johnny let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand down his face before finally meeting her eyes. His expression was pained, conflicted.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “None of that should have happened.”

Her stomach twisted. “W-what?”

She took a shaky step closer, searching his face for something, anything, that made sense of what he was saying. “Johnny, what are you talking about?”

He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “You’re too young. I should’ve never come onto you like that.”

Her heart clenched. “But I wanted it.”

“That’s not the point.” His tone was firm, almost bitter. “I should have never wanted it. I should have known better.”

Y/n opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The warmth from last night, the way he touched her like she meant something, the way he whispered her name, it was all unraveling before her eyes.

Johnny took a step back, putting distance between them. “It was wrong, Y/n. And I can’t take that back.”

Y/n took a step forward, her brows knitting together in frustration. “Johnny, I wanted it to happen,” she insisted, her voice firm but laced with emotion. “I like you. And I can legally be with you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Johnny let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about what’s legal, Y/n. It’s about what’s right.”

Her chest tightened. “It doesn’t matter,” she pressed, reaching for him, but he took another step back.

“It should..” His voice dropped lower, heavy with something deeper, something that made her stomach sink.

He looked at her then, really looked at her. “Because I can’t have that weighing on my conscience. I can’t be the guy who takes advantage of you.”

Her breath caught. “You didn’t–”

“But what if I did?” he cut in, his gaze sharp. “What if that’s exactly what happened?” He let out a bitter laugh, his jaw tightening. “Yangyang warned you this would happen. Looks like I’m proving him right. And now, look at us.”

Y/n felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her. “Yangyang?” Her heart pounded, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “So what?” she snapped. “You’re just gonna listen to that guy? Act like last night meant nothing?”

Johnny exhaled sharply, his expression torn. “I’m saying it shouldn’t have happened,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Because no matter how much I want you, Y/n…it’s wrong.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing into a glare. “What about what I want?” she shot back, her voice rising. “Does that not matter to you at all?”

Johnny let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/n, you don’t even know what you want,” he said, exasperated. “You’re too young.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you fucking serious?” she scoffed, taking a step back like he’d just slapped her. “You think I don’t know what I want just because I’m younger than you?”

Johnny clenched his fists at his sides, avoiding her sharp gaze. “I think you’re still figuring things out,” he muttered, but it sounded weak even to him.

Y/n let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Wow,” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s actually insane. You didn’t seem to have a problem with my age last night.”

Johnny flinched, his face tightening. “That’s exactly the problem, Y/n.”

“No,” she snapped, stepping forward. “The problem is that you’re treating me like some clueless little kid who doesn’t know her own feelings. I know what I want, Johnny. I wanted you.”

He finally met her gaze, something torn and conflicted flickering in his eyes. “And that’s exactly why this is wrong,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pained. “Because I should’ve never let it get to this point.”

Y/n’s heart sank, a heavy weight settling in her chest as his words hit her like a cold bucket of water being poured over her. She felt defeated, helpless, as though all of her emotions and desires from the night before had been reduced to nothing but foolishness.

Her stomach twisted in humiliation. Did she really look so helpless to him? Maybe she had made herself look desperate, foolish in her own eyes.

She took a shaky breath, trying to push the lump in her throat away. "I think I should go," she murmured, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

Johnny looked at her with a hint of guilt, his shoulders slumping. "I’ll drive you to Yangyang’s," he said softly, as though offering some sort of comfort, but all it did was make Y/n’s blood boil.

Her eyes shot up to meet his, and she straightened, her posture suddenly brimming with defiance. "Fuck you," she spat, her voice sharp and cutting. "I can get there myself."

Johnny flinched, clearly taken aback by her reaction, but Y/n couldn’t bring herself to care. She grabbed her bag and made her way toward the door, her heart heavy but her mind set. As much as it hurt, she needed to leave, to get out of that space that now felt suffocating.

Without looking back, she stepped out into the hall, slamming the door behind her. Y/n's legs felt heavy with each step as she walked down the hallway, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest.

She couldn’t stop the tears from falling, hot and relentless as they blurred her vision. She wiped them away angrily, trying to steady herself, but the humiliation of it all, of being rejected, of feeling like she was nothing more than a mistake, was too much.

She pulled her phone from her bag, her hands trembling as she unlocked it. Her fingers hovered for a moment over the screen before she quickly dialed Yangyang’s number. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Y/n stepped inside, leaning against the wall as she waited for the call to connect.

The ringing seemed to stretch out, each second longer than the last. Y/n bit her lip, trying to choke back the sob that threatened to escape. The silence was only broken when Yangyang's voice finally came through.

“Y/n? What’s up?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge of concern beneath it.

Y/n took a shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "Yangyang," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I need you. Please."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Yangyang asked, his voice quiet but insistent, for what must have been the third time.

Y/n stared out of the car window, the tears still falling, too exhausted to wipe them away anymore. She could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her, suffocating, and she just wanted to escape it for a little while.

Yangyang glanced at her briefly before focusing back on the road. "Do I need to turn this car around and go beat up Johnny?"

Y/n let out a shaky laugh, though it barely sounded like one. "No, he'd waste you," she replied, her voice hoarse. "I'll tell you when we get to yours."

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The silence in the car felt thick, and Y/n found herself staring out at the passing scenery, feeling more lost than she had in a long time.

The car stopped out fron Yangyang’s and the moment they stepped inside, Y/n made a beeline for his bedroom, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. As soon as she reached his bed, she collapsed onto it face-first, letting out a muffled groan against the sheets.

Yangyang shut the door behind them, crossing his arms as he leaned against it. "Alright, are you going to tell me what happened?"

Y/n sighed, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. "You're just gonna call me an idiot."

Yangyang scoffed. "Yeah, probably. But what’s new?"

She let out a dry laugh, but it faded quickly. Swallowing hard, she finally admitted, "I slept with Johnny."

Yangyang’s eyebrows shot up, his expression unreadable. "Shocker…and?"

"And then this morning, he regretted it." The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

Saying it out loud made it feel even worse, like it was something that was officially real, something she couldn’t take back.

Yangyang let out a slow exhale, rubbing his face. "Shit."

Yangyang sat down next to Y/n on the bed, the mattress dipping beside her. She turned her head to look at him, only to find the look of pity in his eyes. It made her stomach twist. She didn’t want to be pitied.

“You can just go ahead and tell me how fucking stupid I am,” Y/n muttered, forcing a weak smile.

Yangyang hesitated for a moment before sighing. “...I did try to warn you.” His voice was quiet, careful, but it still stung.

Y/n let out a humourless laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, I know…I should’ve listened.” Her voice wavered, but she kept going. “I just thought I wouldn’t even have a chance with him, so there was nothing to avoid in the first place. I didn’t think this would actually happen.”

Yangyang stayed quiet for a moment, then asked, “Tell me what happened.”

Y/n exhaled, staring up at the wall. “I went over to his place after dinner with you. It was supposed to be a celebration…he got me a cake and everything.” Her voice softened at the memory before she scoffed at herself. “We made out…had sex…slept…and then morning came, and he told me it should’ve never happened.”

Yangyang squinted his eyes, questioning the situation. “So, what? He just acted like the whole thing was a mistake?”

Y/n swallowed hard. “Pretty much.”

“What an asswipe,” Yangyang muttered, shaking his head. “You want me to talk to him?”

Y/n let out a tired laugh, though it lacked any real amusement. “Nah, not worth it…I just wanna forget any of this ever happened.”

Yangyang narrowed his eyes. “You’re not still gonna be friends with him, right?”

“Fuck no,” Y/n scoffed, burrowing her face deeper into the pillow. “I can’t even face him again. He probably doesn’t even wanna be friends with me either. I mean, I’m clearly too young for even that.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but underneath it, there was bitterness.

Yangyang blinked, confused. “...Huh?”

Y/n sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time. “He said I’m too young to be with him. And like…maybe he’s right, but come on! He already fucked me, so what’s the issue now?” She let out a humourless scoff. “Oh, and he said you were right.”

Yangyang grinned, leaning back on his hands. “I’m always right.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small, dry laugh that escaped her lips. “Yeah, yeah. But basically, he made it clear, I’m too young to even think about him like that. So that’s the end of that, I guess.”

Yangyang clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Damn. He really fumbled.”

“Guess so,” Y/n muttered, but the ache in her chest told her it wasn’t that simple.

It had been a week since everything went down, yet the ache in Y/n’s chest refused to fade. She knew there was nothing she could do to change what had happened, that it was out of her hands, but that didn’t stop her from replaying it over and over in her mind.

What could she have said differently? What could she have done to make him stay?

But no matter how much she thought about it, the answer was always the same. It didn’t matter. Johnny had made his choice. And now, she had to let go.

Tonight was supposed to be a big night. Prizegiving. The moment all her hard work would finally be recognized. Yangyang was coming to pick her up soon, and her dad was supposed to come straight from work. It should have been exciting. It should have been a night worth celebrating.

Yet here she was, sitting on the edge of her bed in her formal dress, twiddling her fingers in her lap, staring blankly at the floor. She should be happy. She should feel proud. But all she felt was hollow.

Johnny had tainted this moment for her. Because no matter how much she tried to push it aside, no matter how much she told herself it didn’t matter, the truth was, she wanted him there.

Y/n’s phone buzzed beside her, snapping her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen. It was Yangyang.

Outside boi!

Rolling her eyes, she let out a small sigh before grabbing her bag. She stood, smoothing out her dress, and took one last look in the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, polished, put together, but she still felt out of it.

Shaking off the feeling, she grabbed her keys and made her way downstairs. The house was quiet, almost eerily so, but she didn’t linger. She locked up behind her, stuffing the keys into her bag before heading toward the car parked at the curb.

Yangyang was leaning against the hood as he scrolled through his phone. When he saw her, he let out a low whistle.

“Look at you,” he grinned. “Flashy clothes and all.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, slipping into the passenger seat. “It’s a formal event, you egg.”

Laughing, Yangyang slid into the driver’s seat, turning the key before pulling away from the curb. “Alright, alright. But seriously, you look good.”

Y/n stared out the window, resting her chin against her hand. “Thanks,” she muttered. “Wish I felt like it.”

Yangyang sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as they hit a red light. He glanced over at Y/n, who was still staring out the window, lost in her own head.

“Look, I know you’re still thinking about him,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “And I get it. But you’re not gonna let some dumbass ruin your night, right?”

Y/n stayed quiet, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress.

Yangyang sighed again, shaking his head. “Come on, Y/n. You worked your ass off for this. You deserve to be proud of yourself. You deserve to have a good time tonight. And most of all, you deserve better than some guy who made you feel like shit for wanting him.”

Y/n blinked, finally looking over at him. “I know…” she murmured. “I just…I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

Yangyang gave her a small smile. “Then fake it. Cause I ain’t about to take pictures of you on stage mopping about. You better look about at this later thinking you’re the shit.”

A tiny smile tugged at Y/n’s lips. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Yangyang admitted with a shrug. “But you’re Y/n. You’ll be just fine.”

The light turned green, and he pressed on the gas. “Now, let’s go get you that damn award.”

When they arrived at the venue, the place was already filled with people. The hall was dimly lit, chandeliers casting a soft glow over the round tables draped in black cloths. Students, parents, and faculty were scattered around, chatting, laughing, and enjoying their meals. A stage stood at the front of the room, the podium set up with a microphone, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Y/n and Yangyang made their way through the crowd, finally spotting an empty table off to the side, away from the main crowd. It was quiet, which was perfect, she wasn’t really in the mood to make small talk with anyone else.

As soon as they sat down, Yangyang’s eyes immediately landed on the buffet table across the room. “Yo, they got some good shit over there,” he said, already standing back up. “I’m getting some food.”

Y/n huffed a small laugh. “Figures.”

“You want me to grab you anything?”

She shook her head. “Nah, I’ll just wait here.”

Yangyang nodded before making his way toward the buffet, leaving her alone at the table.

Y/n exhaled and leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze wander around the room. It was a nice event, and she wished she could fully enjoy it.

At least Yangyang was here. And her dad would be showing up soon. That was something to be happy about, right?

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to push away the lingering thoughts of the past week. This was supposed to be her night, she had worked hard for this moment.

Maybe, just maybe, she could let herself enjoy it.

Yangyang returned to the table with a full plate stacked high with food and a drink in hand.

He plopped down into his seat and, without a word, set a plate down between the two of them. “Got some for both of us.”

“You’re a blessing,” Y/n said, already picking up a fork.

“I know,” Yangyang smirked before taking a sip of his drink.

Y/n glanced at the cup in his hand. “What are you drinking?”

“Beer.”

Her head snapped toward him. “What the fuck? Where did you get beer here?”

Yangyang shrugged casually, stuffing a bite of food into his mouth.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That is your only drink tonight. You still have to drive me back, dumbass.”

Yangyang groaned but didn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He took another sip before setting the cup down. “Just let me enjoy this one, alright?”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Fine. But I swear, if I catch you sneaking another, I’m taking your keys.”

Yangyang snorted. “Noted.” Then he dug into his food like he hadn’t eaten in days, and Y/n shook her head, finally feeling a little lighter than she had all night.

Y/n picked at the food on the plate, taking small bites as the ceremony began. The event started with introductions, a slideshow about the course, and acknowledgments of the faculty. The speaker’s voice droned on in the background, but Y/n’s mind was elsewhere.

She glanced around the room, scanning the faces, searching for her dad. Still no sign of him.

With a quiet sigh, she pulled out her phone under the table and flicked him a quick text.

Hurry up, it’s started.

She tapped her fingers anxiously against her lap, waiting for a response, but nothing came. Putting her phone back down on the table, she tried to focus on the ceremony, but the empty seat meant for her dad weighed on her more than she wanted to admit.

About fifteen minutes later, Y/n’s phone vibrated. The screen lit up with her dad’s name, and a pang of hope shot through her, maybe he was outside, letting her know he had arrived.

She leaned over to Yangyang. “I’m just gonna take this.”

He nodded, mouth full, and she slipped her phone into her palm as she made her way out of the hall. The murmurs of the ceremony faded as she pushed through the doors, stepping into the quieter hallway before answering.

“Hey, Dad–”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make it, bubs.”

The words hit her like a punch to the throat.

She blinked, staring at the ground, her chest tightening as disappointment crushed her. She had told herself she wouldn’t expect much, but a part of her still held on, still thought, just this once, he’d show up.

He was still talking, saying something about work, how he’d make it up to her, how proud he was. But Y/n barely heard any of it. His voice was a distant hum, drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

Her fingers curled around the phone. She wanted to say something, call him out, tell him how much this meant to her, how he always did this, but what was the point?

Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and forced out, “Yeah…okay, that’s fine.”

It wasn’t. It wasn’t fine at all.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Sorry, bubba,” her dad sighed. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” she muttered before hanging up.

She stood there for a second, staring at her screen, the weight of it settling in. Then, with a deep breath, she shoved her phone into her pocket and forced herself back inside.

Y/n felt hollow as she walked back into the hall, her legs heavy like they were being weighed down with bricks. The voice from the speakers droned around her, blending into a dull hum as she made her way back to the table.

She sat down next to Yangyang, eyes fixed on the table, barely able to breathe past the lump in her throat.

Yangyang looked over, instantly noticing something was off. “What’s up?”

She blinked rapidly, trying to push down the tears welling up, but they betrayed her, slipping free and pooling in her lashes.

Yangyang frowned, leaning in closer. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Y/n exhaled shakily, voice barely above a whisper. “Dad’s not coming…”

Yangyang’s face darkened. He sat back with a scoff, shaking his head. “Fucking typical.”

Before she could say anything, he pulled her into him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. That was all it took for her to break. She buried her face into his shoulder, the tears finally falling as she cried quietly, gripping onto his sleeve like it was the only thing holding her together.

Yangyang didn’t say anything else, he didn’t need to. He just held her, rubbing her back as the ceremony carried on around them like nothing had happened.

Yangyang glanced up at the presenter, then down at Y/n, his grip on her shoulder giving a small squeeze. “Hey,” he murmured, “award giving’s about to start. You should go clean up quickly.”

Y/n sniffled and nodded, slowly pulling away from him. She stood up, smoothing out her dress before making her way to the bathroom.

Inside, she leaned against the sink, staring at her reflection. Her eyes were red-rimmed and cheeks blotchy from crying. With a deep breath, she grabbed some paper towels and dabbed at her face, doing her best to erase the image of disappointment.

She fanned her face with her hands, willing the puffiness to go down, but there was only so much she could do. The mirror didn’t lie, she looked tired, drained, but at least she wasn’t outright sobbing anymore.

“This is as good as it’s gonna get,” she muttered to herself, straightening up.

Taking one last steadying breath, she turned on her heel and stepped out of the bathroom, heading back into the hall.

Just as Y/n stepped out of the bathroom, she heard her name being called, echoing through the hall, and a curse slipped past her lips. She straightened herself up quickly, wiping the last of the moisture from her eyes and forcing a smile, even though her heart still felt heavy.

Making her way toward the stage, she kept her posture perfect, doing her best to appear as composed as possible. Every step felt heavier, but she was determined to keep it together.

She shook hands with the people on stage, each interaction feeling more like a blur than a moment, and received her award, a small trophy and framed certificate.

She saw Yangyang, his face was practically glowing with pride, his phone held high as he recorded the moment. She couldn’t help but smile at him, the smallest bit of warmth returning to her chest, just enough to push away the knot of tension.

Then came the moment of standing there, in front of the audience, while they listed off her achievements and took pictures. She stood tall, trying not to fidget even though her stomach twisted. Her eyes scanned the room as the flashes of cameras went off. And then, she saw him.

Johnny.

For a second, it felt like the air in the room went still, the chatter around her fading into the background. He had clearly just walked in standing at the back of the tables, his gaze locked on her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she instinctively glanced away, her fingers tightening around the edges of the award in her hands.

Even after she looked away, Y/n couldn’t shake the disbelief settling in her chest. What the fuck was he doing here? She had told herself she wouldn’t let him get to her, but just the sight of him, standing there in the crowd, sent a surge of emotions she wasn’t prepared for.

She hesitated, but her eyes found him again. Johnny was still there, standing tall, a smile on his face, not smug, but genuine, proud even. He wore a suit that helped him to blend into the crowd, but Y/n couldn’t look away, and the moment he caught her gaze, her heart stuttered.

The presenter stopped talking, and that’s when the applause started. Y/n watched as Johnny slowly took his hands out of his pockets, joining the applause for her. She forced herself to look away, not wanting to linger on him any longer than necessary.

She made her way back to the audience, her heart hammering in her chest. As soon as she reached Yangyang, she was greeted by his warm eyes.

Yangyang pulled Y/n into a tight hug as soon as she sat down, squeezing her in celebration. "Well done, you did it!" he said, his voice full of pride.

But Y/n didn’t respond. She was still frozen, her eyes locked on the back of the room, her mind racing.

Yangyang pulled back slightly, brows furrowing as he looked at her. "Hey, what’s up?" he asked, his voice softer now, noticing her tension.

Y/n didn’t answer him. Her gaze was fixed somewhere behind him, and Yangyang’s confusion deepened. He turned around, following her line of sight, and that’s when he saw Johnny walking toward them, making his way through the crowd.

Yangyang’s expression shifted instantly, a sharp defensive edge taking over. Without thinking, he stood in front of Y/n, blocking her from Johnny’s view. He pushed his shoulders back, trying to appear bigger, though it did little, as he glared at Johnny.

Johnny stopped in his tracks, eyes flicking between Yangyang and Y/n. It was clear he was expecting this kind of attitude, but he was ready. The tension between them hung thick in the air.

"You got some nerve showing up here," Yangyang said, his voice low, barely containing his anger as he kept his stance between Johnny and Y/n.

Johnny met his gaze, unflinching, and gave a slow, resigned nod. "I know," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of something more than just an apology. "I just...I need to talk to her."

Yangyang's expression remained hard, crossing his arms. "What for?" he demanded, clearly not trusting Johnny's intentions.

Johnny’s eyes flickered to Y/n for a brief moment, his plea more genuine than either of them could have expected. "Please," he said, voice barely above a whisper, though it was laced with sincerity.

Yangyang hesitated, then slowly turned his head to look at Y/n. His eyes searched hers for confirmation, his protectiveness still strong but giving her the space to decide.

Y/n met Johnny’s gaze for a moment before looking back at Yangyang, still shaken but steadying herself. She gave a soft nod, standing up from the table and smoothing her dress. "We can talk outside," she said, her voice more composed than she felt.

Yangyang stepped aside, giving her the space she needed. "I'll be right here," he said before watching as Y/n walked toward Johnny.

Y/n made her way to the end of the hall, her eyes fixed on the floor as her mind raced, trying to process everything. She could feel Johnny’s footsteps behind her, each step a reminder of the presence she hadn’t expected to face tonight. She could feel him drawing closer, his energy almost suffocating in its intensity.

They reached the door, and before Y/n could open it, Johnny held it open for her. She walked through it without a word, the cold air of the hallway brushing against her skin. Her heart was racing, but she didn’t stop until she reached the middle of the corridor. The noise of the event seemed to fade away as she turned to face him.

She stood still for a moment, her breath shaky as she looked back at him. He was standing there, just a few feet away, his expression unreadable. Y/n didn’t know what to say. How could she?

"Why are you here, Johnny?" The words felt heavy, yet so light at the same time, escaping her lips before she could stop them.

“I told you I would come,” Johnny said, his voice steady but tinged with regret.

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “And you think that was a good idea, after everything that happened the other day?”

Johnny exhaled sharply, frustration and guilt flickering across his features. He ran a hand through his hair, looking down for a moment, clearly upset with himself. “I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression a mix of hurt and exhaustion. She crossed her arms, her stance defensive. “But you did,” she said quietly, her voice almost too calm for the storm brewing beneath it. “You said it, and now here we are. You can’t just take it back, Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyes softened, a mix of regret and sincerity overtaking his usual confident demeanor. “I never should’ve said any of that, Y/n,” he began, his voice quiet but earnest. “I regret every word of it. I don’t want you to think I said it because I didn’t care or because I didn’t feel anything. The truth is, I felt more for you than I ever wanted to admit. And I–”

Y/n cut him off. “And what does this apology actually change, huh? You still regretted it.” She paused, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked at him. “You still regret everything.”

Johnny winced at the words, but never backed down. “I never regretted it, Y/n.” He stepped a little closer, his gaze unwavering. “What I regretted…what I was afraid of, was what it would mean for me, for you. I didn’t want you or anyone to think I was some weirdo because of how much younger you were. I know how people would look at me, and I couldn’t deal with that. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, or that you didn’t deserve better.”

He looked away for a second, as if the weight of his own words had become too much to bear. "But that's the thing, Y/n. I shouldn’t have let that get in the way. You were never a mistake to me."

Y/n’s eyes narrowed as she processed his words, her emotions still raw, but somewhere beneath all of that hurt, a spark of curiosity flickered. She crossed her arms, looking at him like she was still trying to figure out if this was real or just another excuse.

“So, what do you want, Johnny?” she asked, her voice steady, though there was a hint of vulnerability she couldn’t quite hide.

Johnny’s gaze softened, the usual guarded expression he wore fading into something more honest. “I want to be with you,” he said without hesitation, his voice low but firm.

“I’m not saying it’s perfect or easy, but I don’t want to let this go, not when it means something to me. And I don’t care about the age, or what anyone thinks anymore.” He took a step closer, his words filled with a raw honesty that Y/n couldn’t ignore. “What I care about is you. I want to make this right.”

Y/n stood there for a moment, her mind racing, her heart still bruised but not as hard as before. She let out a soft laugh, the kind that was almost disbelieving but somehow light-hearted. “All’s forgiven, huh?” she said, her tone teasing.

Johnny smiled, the weight of the past few days finally lifting off his shoulders. “If you’ll let me,” he said, his eyes locked on hers, full of sincerity. “I’ll make it right. I swear I will.”

Y/n looked at him for a long moment, trying to read his face for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But there was nothing there, just the same guy she’d met at the bar.

“Well,” she said, her voice quieter now, “I guess I could give you another chance...but you’d better not mess it up again, Johnny.”

Johnny grinned, a genuine smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “I won’t, I’ll make sure of it.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart still a little heavy, but the tension between them had eased. She stepped up to Johnny, her arms wrapping around him before he even had the chance to react. Johnny’s arms came around her instinctively, pulling her close as if he didn’t want to let go.

“Atleast you actually showed up,” Y/n said, her voice muffled slightly as her face was pressed into his chest. “Fucking dad didn’t.”

Johnny pulled back just enough to look down at her, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You fucking kidding me?” he asked, a slight laugh escaping him.

Y/n shook her head, chuckling. “Nope.”

She felt Johnny’s arms tighten around her again. She would’ve probably felt like shit thinking about her dad and how he had let her down tonight, but in that moment, with Johnny holding her, everything else just faded away. She felt…happy.

“There’s no chance I wouldn’t have come,” Johnny said softly, his voice almost a whisper as reached under her chin to tilt her head up. “I know how much it mattered to you”

Y/n looked up at Johnny, her heart racing as his fingers gently brushed her chin, lifting her face to meet his. His words hung in the air between them, soft and sincere.

“You always do,” she whispered back, her breath catching in her throat.

The space between them closed, and in an instant, Johnny’s lips were on hers. It wasn’t rushed or forced, but soft, like he was savoring the moment. Y/n’s mind finally quiets, letting the warmth of the kiss wash over her.

It was like everything outside of that moment faded away, leaving just the two of them, connected in a way that felt real, felt right. When they finally pulled away, Y/n’s eyes stayed closed for a moment, her lips still tingling from the kiss.

Y/n pulled back slightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at Johnny. “I’ve already got my award,” she said, her voice light. “We can totally just leave now, right?”

Johnny grinned, his eyes lighting up with relief. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed quickly.

Y/n started to turn back toward the hall, ready to grab Yangyang and get out of there, but Johnny gently caught her arm, halting her. He stepped closer, his expression softening.

“Before you go,” he said quietly, his hand reaching for her face once more, “can I’ve a kiss?”

Y/n met his gaze, her heart fluttering, and she nodded with a soft laugh. Without another word, Johnny leaned down, capturing her lips with his once more. Neither of them could hold back from smiling in the kiss, the happiness and relief that had been building between them for so long finally spilling over.

When they finally pulled away, Y/n was smiling, her hand lingering on his chest. “Happy now?”

“Very.” he said softly, her tone teasing like usual.

She chuckled, shaking her head as she gave him one last look before turning to head back toward the hall to grab Yangyang.

Y/n couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good. With Johnny, she found more than just someone who showed up when she needed him. He was kind, supportive, and cared in a way that felt rare to her.

As she made their way back into the hall, she realized that despite everything, despite her father’s absence, the hurt from before, she had Johnny who made her feel seen, heard, and truly valued. With Johnny by her side, the weight of the world felt just a little bit easier to carry, and for the first time in a long while, Y/n let herself believe that things might just be okay.

A/N: Just thought I should say that I do NOT condone drinking and driving! Anyways! Thank you so much for reading this fic, the next one of the series I'll be writing is Yuta~ so slay! hope you look forward to that Thank you again for reading 💚

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amethystarachnid · 1 day ago

Note

PLEASE PLEASE pt 3 of “New Years Eve” that promise ring turning into a engagement ring one day 😍 that whole thing about marriage was so cute 😍 and I bet their parents would love some grandbabies 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

NEW YEAR EVE - part III

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Young!Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Timeline: they just finished college

ᯓ★ Word count: 7k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said + a little surprise at the end

ᯓ★ TW(s): some spicy scenes but nothing explicit

ᯓ★ Part I | Part II

ᯓ★ Tony taglist: @groovy-lady

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The years after college blur together in a whirlwind of late nights, ambitious projects, and the exhilarating rush of success. Both of you have poured yourselves into your respective careers, with Tony inevitably making waves in the tech world and you earning accolades for your groundbreaking work in sustainable technology. It’s not just that you’re making money—you’re thriving.

The first time Tony mentions moving into a better apartment, you brush it off. “This place isn’t so bad,” you tell him, running your fingers along the slightly warped kitchen counter that has seen better days. “It’s home.”

But Tony, being Tony, raises an eyebrow and grins. “Home is wherever you are, babe. But let’s be real—this place is one squeaky pipe away from falling apart. We can do better.”

He’s right, of course. You’ve both outgrown the cramped space, and within a week, he’s already scouted a stunning loft downtown. It’s the kind of apartment you used to joke about owning someday, with floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek modern finishes, and a view of the city that takes your breath away every time you look out.

Moving day is chaotic but fun. Tony insists on carrying the heaviest boxes himself, only to dramatically collapse onto the couch the moment you’re done unpacking. “I think I pulled something,” he groans, draping an arm over his forehead like a damsel in distress.

You laugh, nudging his leg with your foot. “That’s what you get for refusing to hire movers.”

“Movers wouldn’t have handled your plants with the same care,” he retorts, gesturing toward the cluster of greenery you’ve already set up in one corner.

“They’re fake plants, Tony.”

“They still deserve respect.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. The apartment already feels like yours, like it’s filled with the little quirks and comforts that make up your life together.

The first night in the new place is magical. You order takeout and eat it on the floor, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes. Tony lights candles he insists are for ambiance, though he nearly sets one of your sleeves on fire while adjusting them.

Later, as the city lights twinkle outside, you’re lying on the massive new bed, wrapped up in each other. Tony’s fingers trail lazily over your bare shoulder as he murmurs, “You know, this is just the beginning. You and me, we’re gonna build something incredible.”

“You mean more plants?” you tease, but your voice is soft, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his tone.

“I’m serious,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “Everything we’ve done so far—college, work, this place—it’s just the start. I want… everything with you. A house someday, a family, all of it.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his eyes, and you nod, unable to find the right words. Instead, you pull him down for a kiss, one that deepens quickly, becoming a slow, burning exchange that leaves you both breathless.

The days in the new apartment settle into a comfortable rhythm. You cook together when you’re not working late, Tony’s attempts at chopping vegetables often ending with him grinning sheepishly as you take over. You spend lazy Sunday mornings tangled in bed, the sunlight streaming in through the windows as Tony refuses to let you get up.

One day, while you’re perched on a ladder trying to hang curtains, Tony comes up behind you, his hands steadying your waist. “Careful, future wife,” he says casually, and the words make you laugh despite the way your heart flips at how easily he throws them out.

“You can’t just call me that whenever you want, you know,” you tease, glancing down at him.

“Why not? It’s gonna be true eventually,” he replies with a smirk.

It becomes a running joke—or at least, you think it’s a joke. Every time he calls you “future wife” or “fiancée,” you roll your eyes, but the warmth in his voice always makes your stomach flutter.

One evening, after a long day at work, Tony insists on taking you out to dinner. He doesn’t say much about where you’re going, only that it’s “a surprise.” You’re too tired to argue, so you let him whisk you away in his sleek new car, the city lights blurring past the windows.

When you arrive, the restaurant is breathtaking. It’s perched on a rooftop, with a view of the skyline that rivals even your apartment’s. The table Tony reserved is tucked into a private corner, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights and soft candlelight.

“Wow,” you breathe as you take it all in.

“Only the best for you,” Tony says, grinning as he pulls out your chair.

The evening is perfect—great food, soft music, and Tony at his most charming. He’s in an unusually reflective mood, reminiscing about your college days and all the milestones you’ve hit since then.

As dessert arrives, your favorite kind of cake, Tony clears his throat. His usual bravado falters slightly, and you can tell he’s nervous.

“Okay, so,” he begins, reaching into his pocket. Your heart starts to race because you can already guess what’s coming.

“Tony…”

“Wait, let me do this right,” he says, cutting you off with a crooked smile. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I wanted to wait until the timing was perfect, but honestly, every day with you feels perfect, so why wait anymore?”

He pulls out a small velvet box and opens it to reveal a stunning diamond ring, its delicate design exactly the kind of understated elegance you’d imagined.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “You’re my everything. My partner, my best friend, my future. Will you marry me?”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod, too overwhelmed to speak at first. “Yes,” you finally manage, your voice breaking. “Of course, yes.”

Tony slips the ring onto your finger, then stands to pull you into a tight embrace. The restaurant staff applauds, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart and the soft murmurs of love from Tony as he holds you close.

That night, back at the apartment, you can’t keep your hands off each other. The passion between you is electric, charged with the promise of forever. Tony’s kisses are fervent, his touch reverent, and the way he whispers “fiancée” against your skin sends shivers down your spine.

As you lie together afterward, your head resting on his chest, you glance down at the ring on your finger. It glints softly in the low light, a tangible symbol of the love and commitment you share.

Tony presses a kiss to your temple, his voice soft as he murmurs, “So… when do you want to start planning this wedding?”

You laugh, snuggling closer. “Let’s enjoy being engaged for a little while first.”

“Deal,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

And as you drift off to sleep, you know that whatever the future holds, you’ll face it together, hand in hand.

Organizing a dinner for both sets of parents feels like a bigger event than either of you expected. Tony insists on handling the arrangements, booking a private dining room at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. “It’s not every day we drop life-changing news on them,” he says with a grin, leaning against the counter as you look over the guest list.

The dinner is scheduled for a Saturday evening, giving you just enough time to overthink every possible outcome. You’re nervous—not because you think the news will go badly, but because there’s something so monumental about the idea of your families sitting together, your lives becoming that much more intertwined.

When the night arrives, the private dining room is elegant but welcoming, the table set with crisp linens and softly glowing candles. Tony is uncharacteristically fidgety, straightening his tie every few minutes and checking his watch.

“Relax,” you say, taking his hand. “They��re going to love this.”

“I know,” he replies, flashing you a crooked smile. “But I also know my dad. He’s going to make a scene about something, and I want to be ready for it.”

You squeeze his hand, grounding him. “We’ll handle it. Together.”

The first to arrive are your mom and younger brother. Your mom beams as soon as she sees you, pulling you into a tight hug while your brother mutters a teasing comment about how fancy everything looks.

Tony’s parents arrive shortly after, Howard looking as stately as ever while Maria radiates warmth. They greet your family politely, Maria exchanging pleasantries with your mom as if they’ve known each other for years.

As everyone takes their seats, the conversation flows surprisingly smoothly. Your mom and Maria bond over shared stories of raising their children, while Howard listens intently to your brother talk about his plans for college. Tony, ever the charmer, keeps things light and entertaining, ensuring there’s never a dull moment.

Once the main courses are cleared, Tony catches your eye and nods subtly. You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you prepare to share the news.

“So,” Tony begins, leaning forward slightly, “we have something we want to tell you all.”

Maria’s eyes light up, and she immediately clasps her hands together. “Oh my goodness, are you… are you having a baby?”

The question catches you so off guard that you almost choke on your water. “What? No!”

Your mom gasps, her expression flipping from surprise to amusement as she laughs. “Maria, let them finish!”

Tony, meanwhile, looks like he’s having the time of his life. “Not yet,” he says with a playful smirk, “but I’ll let you know when we get there. No, the news is…” He takes your hand in his, lifting it slightly so everyone can see the ring on your finger. “We’re engaged.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then the room erupts into cheers and congratulations. Maria is on her feet in seconds, hugging you tightly while your mom dabs at her eyes with a napkin. Howard stands and shakes Tony’s hand, the closest thing to emotional you’ve ever seen him, while your brother teases Tony about finally making an honest woman out of you.

“You kept this a secret?” Maria asks, pulling back to look at you with mock outrage. “How could you not tell me immediately?”

“It only just happened,” you explain, laughing. “We wanted to share it with you all together.”

Howard claps Tony on the shoulder, his voice gruff but approving. “You’ve done well, son. You’ve made your choice, and it’s a good one.”

Tony’s grin is soft, his gaze flickering toward you. “Yeah, I think so too.”

The conversation turns lively as everyone begins asking questions about the wedding. When will it be? Where will it be? How big is the guest list?

“We’re still figuring all that out,” you say, glancing at Tony for confirmation. “We wanted to enjoy being engaged for a little while first.”

Maria nods, her smile warm. “That’s wise. There’s no need to rush. But if you need help with anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Weddings are such beautiful celebrations, and I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

Howard, however, clears his throat, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Now that you’re taking this step, Tony, it’s time we talk about the family business.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly curious but cautious. “What about it?”

“It’s time for you to have access,” Howard says simply. “You’ve proven yourself—your success in college, the work you’ve done since then, the way you’ve taken responsibility for your life. I think you’re ready to start taking on more.”

Tony looks stunned for a moment, the weight of his father’s words sinking in. You can see the mix of pride and determination in his expression as he nods. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Howard replies.

Maria, ever the peacemaker, redirects the conversation with a bright smile. “And while we’re on the subject of family… I hope you know we’ll be expecting grand-babies someday. No pressure, of course.”

Your mom laughs, joining in the teasing. “Oh, absolutely. I’d love to spoil some grandchildren. But, like Maria said—no pressure.”

Tony grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Well, don’t hold your breath. We’ve got a wedding to plan first.”

The rest of the evening is filled with laughter and stories, the kind of warmth that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. As the night winds down, Maria pulls you aside, her eyes soft as she says, “I’m so happy for you both. You’re perfect for each other.”

“Thank you,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion. “That means so much to me.”

By the time you and Tony get home, you’re both buzzing from the success of the night. Tony kicks off his shoes and pulls you into a slow, lingering kiss, his hands warm against your back.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours.

“So are you,” you reply, threading your fingers through his hair.

The night ends in a tangle of sheets and whispered promises, the kind of passion that reminds you why you said yes in the first place. As you fall asleep in his arms, the future feels brighter than ever, full of love, laughter, and the shared dreams you’re building together.

Planning the wedding starts almost immediately after the engagement dinner. Maria, ever the enthusiast, insists on helping, and while Tony initially tries to claim he doesn’t care about the details, he quickly gets invested in anything that allows him to be over the top.

“Let’s rent out a castle,” he suggests one evening, sprawled out on the couch with you as you scroll through wedding venues.

You snort. “A castle? In New York? Sure, Tony, let me just call up my royal connections.”

He smirks. “Hey, I’m just saying, Stark and future Stark deserve a wedding that screams power couple.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “How about something a little less medieval? Something classy, but not ‘Tony Stark just bought an island’ level of extravagant?”

After weeks of searching, you finally settle on a stunning estate just outside the city. It has everything—a grand ballroom, a breathtaking garden for the ceremony, and enough space to accommodate both your families and the absurd number of people Tony insists on inviting.

Next comes the dress shopping, and it’s the one thing Tony is explicitly banned from seeing.

“You know,” he teases as you head out with Maria and your mom for the fitting, “I could totally hack into the bridal shop’s database and—”

“Don’t you dare,” you warn, pointing a finger at him. “This is the one tradition we’re sticking to.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if I die from the suspense, just know it’s on you.”

Shopping for the dress is an emotional experience. Your mom wipes away tears every time you step out in a new gown, and Maria makes sure you’re getting nothing but the best. After trying on at least a dozen dresses, you finally find the one. It’s perfect—elegant, timeless, and when you see yourself in the mirror, you can actually picture yourself walking down the aisle to Tony.

Meanwhile, Tony takes it upon himself to handle the cake tasting. “You don’t even like cake,” you remind him when he schedules five different bakery appointments.

“I like this cake,” he argues, stuffing a bite of red velvet into his mouth. “Besides, I’m doing my duty as a supportive fiancé. Can’t let my future wife eat subpar cake on our big day.”

The cake is ultimately decided—a mix of flavors to satisfy both of you, with a stunning design that Tony jokingly suggests should have “Stark Industries” written in gold across the front.

Between booking florists, hiring musicians, and designing invitations, the months fly by. Everything is falling into place, and with only five months left until the wedding, you feel like you’re finally getting everything under control.

Then you miss your period.

At first, you brush it off. Stress, excitement—there are a million reasons your cycle might be off. But as the days pass, the nagging thought in the back of your mind won’t go away. It takes you another week to finally go out and buy a test, and when the little plus sign appears, you almost drop it in shock.

You’re pregnant.

You sit on the bathroom floor for a long time, trying to process the news. It’s not bad news—not at all. But it changes things. And Tony. You have no idea how Tony is going to react.

That’s when a devilish idea strikes. You decide to make it as dramatic as possible.

That evening, you sit Tony down on the couch, taking his hands in yours with a somber expression.

“We need to talk,” you say, keeping your voice serious.

Tony immediately straightens, his playful smirk fading. “Uh-oh. What did I do?”

You bite your lip, forcing yourself to keep a straight face. “I think… I think we need to cancel the wedding.”

His entire body tenses. “What?”

“Or at least push it back,” you continue, watching the panic set in. “I just don’t think I can do it, Tony.”

His eyes widen in sheer horror. “What?! What did I do? I—Was it the thing with the catering? Because I swear, I didn’t actually mean to offend the guy, I was just saying that sushi is a risky—”

“Tony.” You grip his hands tighter, trying so hard not to laugh at how distraught he looks. “It’s not that.”

“Then what? Do you—do you not want to get married?” His voice is suddenly quieter, more vulnerable, and your heart clenches.

You let out a dramatic sigh before finally giving him the truth. “I just… I don’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a balloon.”

There’s a beat of silence. Tony blinks. His eyebrows furrow. Then realization dawns.

He glances at your stomach, then back at you. “Wait. Wait. Are you—are you saying—?”

You nod, biting your lip. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he’s completely still. Then his eyes widen, and he lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. “You’re pregnant?!”

You barely have time to react before he’s pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder. You feel his chest rise and fall in a shaky breath, and when he pulls back, his eyes are glossy with unshed tears.

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice cracking.

You nod again, and he lets out a breathless laugh, cupping your face in his hands. “We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby,” you confirm, grinning.

That’s when the tears actually spill over. Tony Stark—genius, billionaire, self-proclaimed coolest guy ever—is crying. Happy, overwhelmed tears.

He presses kisses all over your face, whispering, “I love you. I love you so much. We’re having a baby. Oh my God.”

Then, suddenly, he freezes. “Wait. You let me think you were canceling the wedding?”

You burst into laughter. “I had to make it dramatic!”

He groans, burying his face in your neck again. “You’re the worst. The worst.”

But you can feel the way he’s smiling against your skin. His hands find their way to your stomach, resting there gently, reverently. “I can’t believe this,” he murmurs. “I get to marry you, and we’re going to have a kid.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “I love you.”

He lifts his head, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you too. And for the record, I don’t care when we get married. Pregnant, not pregnant—you’d be the most beautiful bride either way.”

Your heart melts. “Smooth, Stark.”

“Always.”

That night, he’s extra affectionate—his hands never leave your stomach, even as things grow more heated between you. It’s different this time—more intense, more meaningful. Every kiss, every touch is filled with love and excitement for the future.

And as you fall asleep in his arms, one thought lingers in your mind:

This is just the beginning.

Telling Tony had been fun. Telling your parents? That was going to be legendary.

Tony had insisted that if you were going to be dramatic with him, then you both had to be dramatic with your families. It was only fair. And honestly? You were completely on board.

So, a week later, you and Tony invite both sets of parents to dinner at your place. Maria and Howard arrive first, looking elegant as always, while your mom and brother walk in a little more casual but just as curious. Everyone settles around the dining table, making polite conversation, but you and Tony exchange glances.

It’s time.

Tony clears his throat, tapping his fork against his glass as if he’s making a wedding toast. “We’ve gathered you all here today for a very important announcement.”

Maria straightens in her chair, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Oh? Is this about the wedding?”

“Actually…” You take a deep breath, biting back a smile. “It’s about the wedding date.”

Your mom frowns. “What about it?”

You sigh dramatically. “We’re thinking of postponing it.”

There’s a beat of silence before chaos erupts.

“What?!” Maria exclaims, sitting up straighter.

Howard raises an eyebrow but remains quiet, waiting for an explanation.

Your mom immediately turns to Tony. “What did you do?”

Your brother, completely missing the tension in the room, shoves another piece of bread into his mouth. “Did she finally realize she’s too good for you?”

“Hey!” Tony glares at him before turning back to the group. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Then why postpone it?” Maria presses, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

You exchange another glance with Tony, your lips twitching. “It’s just… I don’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a balloon.”

More silence. Then—

Maria gasps.

Howard chokes on his drink.

Your mom’s eyes widen.

Your brother? Still eating.

Maria is the first to recover. “Are you—” Her voice catches. “Are you saying—?”

Tony grins, wrapping an arm around you. “We’re having a baby.”

The room erupts again, but this time with joy. Maria lets out a small, delighted shriek, covering her mouth as her eyes well up. Your mom jumps out of her seat to hug you, already crying. Howard claps Tony on the back, murmuring something about how he’d better be ready to be a dad.

Your brother finally stops eating long enough to blink at you. “Wait. You’re pregnant?”

Tony smirks. “Way to keep up, buddy.”

Your brother shrugs. “Cool. Can I name it?”

Your mom glares at him. “Absolutely not.”

Maria, meanwhile, is already in full planning mode. “We need to start thinking about a nursery! And have you been to the doctor yet? When’s your first ultrasound?”

Your mom nods eagerly. “And have you thought about names? Do you know the gender yet?”

You laugh, overwhelmed but incredibly happy. “It’s still really early. We just found out last week.”

Howard, despite his usual reserved nature, is smiling. “Well, I suppose this means I’ll finally get to be a grandfather. Stark Enterprises will have an heir.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Relax, Dad. We’re not raising the next CEO in the womb.”

Howard smirks. “We’ll see.”

Maria wipes away a tear before reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “This is wonderful news, sweetheart. You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

Your mom nods. “And Tony—” she gives him a look “—you’d better take good care of her.”

Tony places a hand over his heart. “Always.”

Your brother, not one to be left out, finally grins. “So, when do I start teaching the kid how to throw a football?”

Tony scoffs. “Oh, please. If anything, I’ll be the one teaching them engineering before they can even walk.”

Your mom groans. “God help this child.”

The rest of the night is spent talking about the baby, the wedding, and how this little life growing inside of you is already so loved.

And as Tony squeezes your hand under the table, you know that no matter what happens next, you’ll be doing it together.

Tony insists on driving even though the doctor's office isn’t far. His fingers drum anxiously against the steering wheel at every red light, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds as if you might suddenly need something. You try not to laugh, because honestly, it's sweet seeing him like this, but you also don’t want to encourage his nerves.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the leather if you keep doing that,” you say, nodding toward his tapping fingers.

Tony stops immediately, flexes his hands, then grips the wheel tighter. “I’m fine.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I just… I mean, yeah. I’m good.” He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Totally cool.”

He’s totally not cool.

By the time you get to the clinic, Tony’s opened your car door before you’ve even unbuckled your seatbelt. He hovers close as you step out, his hand automatically going to your lower back. The waiting room is quiet, the receptionist offering a warm smile as she checks you in.

Tony, however, looks ready to interrogate the entire staff.

“They know what they’re doing here, right?” he murmurs as you both take a seat.

You give him a look. “Tony. We have the best doctor in the city.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, exhaling sharply. “But still.”

You take his hand, squeezing it. He squeezes back, his knee bouncing slightly.

When your name is called, Tony stands faster than you do, helping you up like you suddenly can’t walk on your own. The nurse leads you into the exam room, and as you sit on the table, Tony remains standing, arms crossed, eyes scanning every medical instrument like he’s memorizing them for later questioning.

The doctor enters with a warm smile, introducing herself even though you both already know who she is. She’s friendly, experienced, and exactly the kind of person you’d hoped for.

“So,” she says, glancing between you and Tony. “First pregnancy?”

Tony nods before you can even answer. “Yeah. And we want to make sure everything’s perfect. No mistakes.”

The doctor chuckles. “Well, we’ll do our best to make sure everything goes smoothly. Let’s start with some basics.”

She asks a few routine questions, goes over dietary recommendations, and gives you a list of vitamins. Tony takes mental notes like he’s going to be quizzed on them later. Then comes the part that makes your heart race a little—the first ultrasound.

The doctor sets everything up, explaining what she’s doing, and as the screen flickers to life, you grip Tony’s hand tightly. He’s holding his breath, eyes locked on the monitor.

“There’s the little one,” the doctor says, pointing.

Tony freezes. “Wait. That’s it?”

You blink at the tiny dot on the screen. It doesn’t look like much yet, but your heart swells at the sight.

The doctor nods. “That’s your baby.”

Tony doesn’t speak for a moment, just stares at the screen, his jaw slack. Then he exhales a breathless laugh. “Holy shit.”

You squeeze his hand. “Pretty amazing, huh?”

Tony swallows hard, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

The doctor prints out a few images for you, goes over some final instructions, and schedules your next appointment. As you leave, Tony holds onto the ultrasound pictures like they’re the most valuable thing he’s ever owned.

The ride home is quieter, but not in a bad way. Tony keeps sneaking glances at the pictures in his hand, his expression unreadable.

When you finally step inside your apartment, Tony immediately goes into full protective mode.

“Okay,” he says, setting the pictures carefully on the counter. “New rules. You don’t lift anything heavy. No more stress. We’re eating all the right foods. And I’m handling everything, so you just have to sit back and relax.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Tony—”

“I’m serious.” He steps closer, hands on your shoulders. “You need anything, anything, you tell me. I don’t care if it’s two in the morning and you suddenly want ice cream from across the city. I’m getting it.”

You smile, leaning into him. “You’re already the best dad ever.”

Tony smirks. “Damn right I am.”

That night, as you get into bed, Tony’s arms automatically wrap around you, holding you close. But then, to your surprise, he shifts, propping himself up slightly.

Then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your stomach.

“Hey, kid,” he murmurs. “It’s me. Your ridiculously cool dad.”

You bite your lip, watching him with warmth in your chest.

“I know you’re not really doing much yet,” Tony continues, his fingers brushing your skin. “But I just want you to know we’re already so freaking excited about you. And I promise I’m gonna be the best dad ever. Just, you know, give me a heads-up before you decide to make your grand entrance, alright?”

You laugh softly, running your fingers through his hair. “Talking to them already?”

Tony grins up at you. “Of course. Gotta make sure they know how awesome their life is gonna be.”

You cup his cheek, bringing him up to kiss you. “I love you, you know that?”

Tony smiles against your lips. “Yeah. And I love you too. Both of you.”

As he settles back down, arms still wrapped protectively around you, you know that no matter what comes next, you’re going to be okay. Because you have Tony. And he’s already proving to be the best partner and father you could ever ask for.

Tony has been obsessed with your belly ever since it started showing. It’s a slow change at first, a slight curve that he constantly traces his fingers over at night, but by the time you hit five months, there’s no hiding it anymore. You’re officially pregnant pregnant, and Tony takes it upon himself to remind you every chance he gets.

"Look at you," he says one morning, standing behind you as you stare at yourself in the mirror. His hands rest on your stomach, fingers splayed out like he can already feel the baby moving beneath them. "Absolutely stunning. My two favorite girls in one place."

You roll your eyes, but you can't fight the smile that tugs at your lips. "You don't even know if it's a girl yet."

Tony smirks. "I have a feeling."

The gender reveal party is his idea, of course. He wants something big, something dramatic, and naturally, he insists on making it a surprise for both of you. The only person who knows the gender is your younger brother, who’s taken his role as the secret keeper way too seriously.

The party itself is extravagant, but that’s to be expected. Tony doesn’t do anything halfway. Your families gather at a beautiful outdoor venue, decorated in both pink and blue, with tables full of food and an entire section dedicated to baby-themed desserts. There's even a betting board where guests can guess the gender, and Tony, confident as ever, has already placed his bet on a girl.

"You're going to lose," you tease as you watch him add another tally mark to the girl column.

Tony wraps an arm around your waist, resting his free hand on your belly. "No way. I know my daughter is in there."

"You mean our child."

"Our baby girl," he corrects, winking.

When it's finally time for the reveal, everyone gathers around, buzzing with excitement. Your brother stands off to the side, grinning mischievously as he sets everything up. The reveal method? A giant balloon filled with colored powder, because of course, Tony wanted something flashy.

"Alright, lovebirds," your brother calls. "Time to pop this thing and see if I'm getting a niece or a nephew."

Tony takes the pin in his hand and turns to you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Ready, future Mrs. Stark?"

You shake your head at the unnecessary dramatics but nod, placing your hand over his. Together, you pop the balloon, and in an instant, a cloud of pink explodes into the air.

The crowd erupts into cheers, but all you hear is Tony's loud, triumphant "I KNEW IT!" as he lifts you into the air, spinning you around.

"A girl," you whisper, eyes wide with happiness. "We're having a little girl."

Tony sets you down, cupping your face in his hands. "I told you. I'm always right."

You laugh, smacking his chest lightly. "She's not even here yet, and you're already smug."

"Damn right." He kisses you, long and deep, before pulling away with a dazed smile. "I'm gonna spoil the hell out of this kid."

The rest of the party is a whirlwind of hugs, congratulations, and Tony gloating to anyone who will listen about how he knew it was a girl. Your families are ecstatic, Maria already talking about all the beautiful dresses she'll buy and Howard muttering about how another Stark genius is on the way. Your mom is in tears, overjoyed at the thought of having a granddaughter, and your brother looks relieved that his secret-keeping days are finally over.

A few days after the party, Tony springs another surprise on you—he's booked a pregnancy photoshoot.

"You're glowing," he insists when you try to protest. "We need to capture this moment."

So, despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself standing in a gorgeous studio, dressed in a flowing white gown that highlights your bump. The photographer is incredible, making you feel comfortable as she directs your poses, and after a few shots, you start to enjoy yourself.

Tony, of course, sits to the side, watching you with a look of pure awe.

"You look unreal," he murmurs when there's a break between shots.

You raise an eyebrow. "You say that like I’m an illusion."

He stands, walking over to you, his hands finding your belly. "You kind of are. You're carrying our baby. Do you know how insane that is?"

You smile softly, covering his hands with yours. "I think about it every day."

The photographer clears her throat. "Would you like to join in, Tony?"

Tony smirks. "Thought you'd never ask."

He changes into a button-down and slacks in record time, and before you know it, he's standing behind you, his hands resting on your belly as he presses a kiss to your temple. The photographer captures it perfectly.

"Alright," she says, directing you both into another pose. "Tony, can you kneel in front of her?"

Tony immediately drops to one knee, kissing your belly before resting his forehead against it. "Hey, baby girl," he whispers. "You're already the best thing to ever happen to me."

You blink back tears as the camera clicks, and at that moment, you know these photos will be some of your most cherished memories.

When the session is over, Tony doesn’t let go of you immediately. He keeps his hands on your belly, rubbing gentle circles. "You’re breathtaking," he murmurs.

You chuckle, resting your forehead against his. "I’m huge."

"You're perfect," he corrects. "And I’m madly in love with you."

You kiss him, slow and deep, your heart full.

Tony smirks against your lips. "So, what do you say we head home and continue celebrating our baby girl?"

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the way warmth spreads through your body at the suggestion. "You never stop, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you," he murmurs, his hands tightening around your waist.

And as he pulls you in for another kiss, you realize that no matter how much things change, one thing will always stay the same—Tony Stark is completely and utterly in love with you.

ony is pacing.

He never paces.

But right now, as you grip his hand with enough strength to cut off circulation, as doctors and nurses move around you in a blur, as the reality of what’s happening fully settles in—he can’t help himself.

You’re in labor. His baby is about to arrive.

And despite all the months of preparation, of books he skimmed through, of doctor’s appointments he never missed, of baby-proofing the penthouse like a madman—he is terrified.

"You're doing great, sweetheart," he says, though his voice is slightly panicked. His other hand wipes sweat from your forehead, his thumb brushing over your temple. "So great. The best. Ten out of ten. Would recommend."

You shoot him a look between contractions, your face contorted in pain. "Tony—if you don’t shut up—"

"Right, yeah. Shutting up."

He doesn’t, though. He keeps whispering encouragements, keeps pressing kisses to your knuckles, keeps trying not to freak out because you are pushing his daughter into the world, and holy hell, he has never loved you more than in this moment.

And then it happens.

A tiny, sharp cry pierces through the room, cutting through the chaos, silencing everything else.

Tony stops breathing.

The doctors move quickly, cleaning her up, wrapping her in a soft pink blanket. The moment they place her in your arms, everything in the world shifts.

She is perfect.

"Layla," you whisper, your voice full of awe.

Tony sits beside you, eyes locked on the little face peeking out from the blanket. She is so small, so delicate, with dark tufts of hair and the softest little hands that flex in the air. His heart is hammering in his chest, and when she lets out a tiny sigh, he is officially a goner.

"She’s—she’s so beautiful," he breathes, reaching out a trembling hand to stroke her cheek. "She looks just like you."

You laugh softly, tired but happy. "I think she has your nose."

Tony swipes at his eyes, overwhelmed. "She’s gonna be a menace, just like her dad."

"God help us."

When the nurses take her for a moment to check her vitals, Tony watches them like a hawk. His protective instincts are already in overdrive. The second they hand her back, he doesn’t hesitate.

"Can I—?" His voice is rough, full of emotion.

You nod, carefully passing Layla into his arms.

The second she settles against his chest, something deep inside Tony shifts.

He has done a lot in his life. He has built things, created things, changed the world in ways most people never will. But this? This little girl, looking up at him with barely-open eyes? This is his greatest achievement.

"Hey, baby girl," he murmurs, rocking her gently. "I’m your dad."

Layla makes a tiny noise, her mouth parting in a sleepy yawn.

Tony lets out a choked laugh. "Yeah, I know. I’m pretty great. You’re lucky you got me."

You roll your eyes, but the sight of Tony holding her so tenderly, looking at her like she’s the most precious thing in the universe, fills you with indescribable love.

The door opens, and your families rush in. Maria is the first to reach you, her eyes misty as she takes in the sight of her granddaughter.

"Oh, Tony," she breathes, pressing a hand to her heart. "She’s—she’s absolutely precious."

Howard, usually composed, clears his throat, visibly emotional. "Congratulations, son."

Your mother is already crying, rushing to your bedside and kissing your forehead. Your brother grins, peering over Tony’s shoulder to get a look at the baby. "She’s tiny," he observes.

"She’s perfect," Tony corrects, not looking away from her.

Layla Stark is officially the most loved baby in existence.

Bringing her home is an entirely new adventure.

Tony refuses to let anyone else carry her into the penthouse. He’s been watching every single movement she makes like a paranoid watchdog, convinced that she’s too fragile for the world.

When you finally settle onto the couch with her, Tony perches beside you, eyes locked onto Layla’s tiny face.

"So," you say, amused. "How does it feel to officially be a dad?"

Tony exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Like I’m holding the entire universe in my arms and I have to make sure nothing ever hurts her."

Your heart melts. "You’re already an amazing father, you know that?"

He scoffs but can’t hide his smile. "I better be. You and Layla deserve the best."

The first few nights are exhausting. Layla is up every two hours, and while you try to let Tony sleep, he refuses to leave you alone with her.

He is obsessed with watching you two.

And then, the inevitable moment happens.

One night, you’re sitting on the bed, exhausted, as Layla starts fussing. Without thinking twice, you unclip your nursing bra and guide her to your breast.

Tony, who had been half-asleep beside you, sits up immediately.

"Whoa."

You blink at him. "What?"

His eyes are locked onto you, specifically onto the fact that Layla is latched onto your breast. His ears turn red.

"Nothing, just—wow. This is… new."

You snort. "Tony, it’s literally just feeding her."

"I know that," he says, dragging a hand down his face. "It’s just—multitasking. You’re being a mom, but you’re also… you."

You laugh. "You’re ridiculous."

Tony sighs dramatically. "This is gonna take some getting used to."

Despite his embarrassment, he helps however he can. He’s up for every diaper change, every late-night rocking session, and every sleepy cuddle.

One afternoon, as Layla naps on his chest, you bring up the wedding.

"I was thinking," you say, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe we could finally set a date? When Layla’s about four months old?"

Tony stiffens, then lifts his head. "Nope."

You blink. "What do you mean, nope?"

He carefully shifts Layla off his chest and sits up, looking at you seriously.

"You just gave birth," he says. "You’re recovering. We have a newborn. The last thing you need to worry about is wedding planning."

"But—"

He silences you with a kiss.

"Later," he murmurs. "We’ll think about it later. Right now, all that matters is you, me, and Layla."

You sigh, but you know he’s right.

And as he pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead while your daughter sleeps peacefully beside you, you realize—there’s no rush.

Because no matter what, you and Tony already have everything you’ve ever wanted.

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ohtobefreaky · 4 days ago

Text

just general silco thoughts again <3

tw: hey. Hey I bet you can’t guess what I’m gunna say.

(It’s incest :3)

Not a lot this time though, it’s just a bit and then it’s on to another thing

Speaking of which, pet play, sorta? It’s a collar/leash thing, master/pet, but none of the more extreme pet play stuff, pretty tame

I just want a father figure who lets me sit in his lap and do whatever I want and ohhhh ohhhh chat

I wanna sit in his lap and sleepily press kisses to his face and groan and shake my head when he says I should go to bed bc I wanna spend every minute with him

I wanna be his pretty little daughter he’d do anything for, he just can’t resist that little pout on your face and ofc I’m using that to my advantage (oh daddy, I feel so weird, can’t you help me <3) chat

want him to call me his pretty little girl while I take his cock

anygays not to be a complete and total freak but I wanna be Silco’s sheltered little daughter

Like, ur 18 and everything but you act way younger bc you never go anywhere cause ur papa is worried you’ll get hurt or kidnapped to get back at him, so ur very sheltered, you don’t really know anything at all so ofc when ur tummy starts feeling weird when you see your father ordering people around or being bossy in general, you have no idea what’s going on :( you go straight to silco, cause he’s ur daddy, he’s wayyyy smarter than you, surely he knows what’s going on!!

And of course, he does know, but how is he supposed to explain that to you??? He just kinda brushes it off, tells you not to worry about it, but it just keeps coming back and it’s worse everytime :( eventually you end up letting it slip that it *hurts*, and he obviously can’t have that so he finally caves and explains it to you, but he refuses to touch you, even when you whine ab not understanding

I want him to pass by ur room, just a quick check to make sure ur all tucked in and sleeping but you aren’t, you’re trying to follow his directions and your face is covered in tears cause it just isn’t making sense in ur dumb little brain </3

want him to finally give in and knock on ur door and tell you he’ll help you only if it’s this once (it won’t be)

his plan is to show you and then never touch you again, he’s only being a good father by explaining this to you but any further and it’s too much, but obviously just once becomes twice becomes three times becomes all the time

he was a fool to think he could stay away after getting a taste of how pretty his baby looks even more dumb than usual

not to be freaky as fuck but if he asked me I’d wear a collar and let him lead me around everywhere idc

I wanna be his little pet, following him around just waiting for him to give me an order oh chat he brings out the worst in me

like he has a collar on you with his name on the tag and has you kneel (on a soft pillow ofc) by his chair and lay your head on his knee as he works and he occasionally reaches down to pet your hair and if you get needy he tugs on the leash

(okay but imagine this but if anyone comes in he atill keeps you down there and hes almost just Waiting for them to say something)

i just know he buys you so many different color collars so they can match the pretty little outfits he buys you and the leashes match too

not to be freaky but he could buy me one of those slip chain collars so if I’m getting too needy or distracting he can pull on it and choke me a little (eventually he’s gunna find out I’m doing it on purpose but shhh)

thinking about how even if he has you on a collar and leash and has you call him master, he is still wrapped around your little finger and puts his life into yout hands, like he would sleep next to you with no worries that you may try to attavk him, he lets you give him his shot with full confidence, ect

I want him to play with me during meetings and make fun of me when I get all embarrassed and try to hide my face in his shoulder

purely for the power I want him to use you as leverage on his underlings, he knows how they look at you, he certainly can’t blame them

Does he ever actually go through with it, of course not

You’re his and his only, but he supposes they’ve done a good enough job this month to watch him wreck you <3

#silco x reader #silco #arcane silco #pet pl4y #pet pl@y #tagging both to be safe #but it’s pretty tame #just collars/leashes and the master/pet dynamic #I want him so bad yall #I need that dilf #I need himmmm #I wanna sit in his lap and give him his injection and then kiss him #I want him to grab me by my hair and drag me to his lips when I pull away #where do I think I’m going?#we’re only done when HE says we’re done <3

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moreaujeans · 2 months ago

Text

IM FREEEEEE

#(FROM PROJECTS)#personal #the engineering chronicles #WILL HOPEFULLY NEVER NEED TO SLEEP THREE NIGHTS ON THE FLOOR OF THE ENGINEERING BUILDING AGAIN!!!#one class the final project was to build a karaoke machine which my partner and i had planned on making look like actual speakers and #microphone but we couldn’t find the stuff in time and her mom made a joke abt singing into hairbrushes and we decided to take that and #run lol we used a pink sparkly makeup box to store our circuit and cut out holes for the speakers and decorated it with makeup and put the #hairbrush mics inside and it was very fun actually and our class voted us as one of the groups to go to project day which was pretty cool!!#project day did get canceled bc of. asnow day which was unfortunate especially considering we stayed up until 4am the night before #preparing our documents for it and trying to perfect the karaoke machine when we could have been putting that time toward project number #2 😐 but whatever we still get our extra credit and i can say i qualified for it so im happy enough #then project 2 was for another class but we’re lab partners in both (+ another guy for this project) and it was digital monster pet so we #made a dragon i was mostly on design so i hand CADed the whole thing which was living hell if i never want to lay eyes on solidworks #again but also he came out very cute after MUCH hasle putting him together with all the wires and components bc our wires from the kit are #so bad they’re constantly getting disconnected from each other which we didn’t know would happen bc the labs we usually do we don’t have to #connect them together like that since you’re not routing them thru bodies etc and they’ve worked great until now but anywya.#i did the lcd faces and the light sensor and a couple other things + a lot of the code was copy and paste from past labs and fitting it to #suit the project but for the most part it was a shit ton of hardware on my end while she and the other guy managed the rest of the code #which i really wish i could have been more involved with but oh well. as it is though he’s my baby i birthed him <3 we’re planning on #meeting up over weekends next semester to change some stuff and add other extra features that we missed we got a decent grade 85% but we #all agreed we don’t want to leave him like this we want to add the extra features we had come up with and also i think we should switch out #our motors for servos bc the motors we were required to use #instead suck they’re not strong at all compared to what a servo can do for you. also we want to make it so you can not only pet him which w #already have with light sensors but also wash him with a Hall effect sensor and magnet so like we’d stick the sensor inside and the magnet #inside a little cad brush or sponge is what im envisioning and i have an expression in mind for what we’d do then. also paint him and #redesign the platform he stands on bc it’s rlly cramped and also make a pcb bc we only have him with the microcontroller and breadboards rn #and i might mess with his face piece a bit too im not sure. oh and speakers!!! those were technically a requirement but we didn’t get them #done on time but i want to make him play music sooooo bad so definitely that. anyway want to be more involved in the software when we do #all this. pretty excited actually :]

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pomegranatesarchive · 7 months ago

Note

Heloo can I request a smau where the reader and lando are dating and they always do date nights but its not really a date night cus oscar is always with them everytime lily isnt there and he just becomes their child 😭 thank you thank youu

just us, and your friend steve | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: at first you were annoyed by oscar being at all of your dates, until you started to miss him when he wasn’t.

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 572,016 others!

yourusername: date night with my boyfriend <3…and his boyfriend!

view comments below!

user1: oscar the certified 3rd wheel

user2: that picture is so cute

landonorris: i love you :)

yourusername: haha simp

landonorris: oscar give my girlfriend her phone back

yourusername: fine 😒

yourusername: i love you too lan :D

landonorris: there she is!

user3: man i would KILL to be a third wheel in this relationship

user4: i would be landos boyfriend 😏

user5: is lando oscar’s only friend??

landonorris: yes!

oscarpiastri: it’s not nice to lie lando

landonorris: im not lying?

oscarpiastri: i have other friends!

landonorris: oh…then why don’t you go hangout with them instead of 3rd wheeling with me and my girlfriend?

oscarpiastri: …

landonorris: that’s what i thought!

yourusername: that was not nice lando.

landonorris: it wasn’t meant to be nice, it was the truth!

yourusername: still, it was mean.

oscarpiastri; yeah lando. it was MEAN.

landonorris: don’t gang up on me??

user6: LMAOO they hang out for one night and they become like this 🤞

user7: i need more of this trio

danielricciardo: and why wasn’t i invited?

maxverstappen1: i have the same question?

landonorris: because you guys have other friends! for osc it’s just me and yn

oscarpiastri; I HAVE OTHER FRIENDS.

landonorris: shhh, shhh, shhh baby it’s okay. it’s okay.

yourusername: baby 🤨

landonorris: omg it just slipped out

user8: that’s…interesting!

user9: yn and lando are so cute together

user9: and oscar cute too ig?

user10: you guess?? that man is gorgeous

user11: the “…and his boyfriend” is TOOO funny. yn i love you

user12: she’s seriously so funny

user13: how can people hate her?

user14: they’re most definitely just jealous

maxverstappen1: oh but when i want to make a heart shaped pizza with you it’s weird?

landonorris: yes!

maxverstappen1: double standard much?

landonorris: she’s my GIRLFRIEND

maxverstappen1: AND WHAT AM I?

user15: i feel like im interrupting something

yourusername: how do you think i feel…

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 528,058 others!

yourusername: paddle and golf with my baby <3 and my baby 🥹

view comments below!

landonorris: why does he get the cool picture and i get that?

yourusername: i think both pictures summarize you guys perfectly!

landonorris: so he’s cool while i’m a loser?

yourusername: i didn’t say that but…

landonorris: WOW, already favoriting the child. i can’t believe this.

yourusername: my child will ALWAYS come first.

oscarpiastri: :D

user16: we went from “my bfs bf” to “my child 🥹”

user17: WE DID IT GUYS

user18: yn and lando adopting oscar agenda is HAPPENING

charle_leclerc: are you trying to steal my child from me?

yourusername: it’s not really stealing if he willingly comes with…

charles_leclerc: it’s just stockholm syndrome, don’t worry oscar i’ll get you away from them soon

oscarpiastri: im actually having lots of fun :)

charles_leclerc: OMG WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM

user19: we got lando and yn adopting oscar…but we lost this during

user20: totally worth it

danielricciardo: when is it my time to be adopted?

maxverstappen1: you are a 35 year old grown man.

danielricciardo: 😐

user21: why is max coming for daniel??

maxverstappen1: i’m bored. since APPARENTLY i’m not landos paddle partner anymore

landonorris: max…i can explain…

maxverstappen1: save it. don’t call me. don’t come by my house. we’re done.

landonorris: i see you watched diary of a wimpy kid

maxverstappen1: i did indeed..

user24: they’re at it again…

user22: max is so funny

user23: i love him

user24: oscar being so quite during all of his is so him coded

user25: he’s just enjoying being out and about

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 601,958 others!

yourusername: vacation with the boyfie <3

view comments below!

user26: omg lando looks so good

user26: i’m going into heat

user26: WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF

user26: GRRRR

user27: this is the first post in 2 months that doesn’t have oscar…

user28: and the crowd…cry’s?

user29; i can’t be the only one who thought oscar would 100% go with them on vacation

user30: i definitely thought so too!

user31: they’ve literally spend all their extra time together

maxverstappen1: how many times did he belly flop?

yourusername: i’ve been swore to secrecy.

user32: she’s so lucky

user33: right? ‘the boyfie’ IMAGINE BEING ABLE TO CALL LANDO NORRIS YOUR BF??

charles_leclerc: guess who’s with me right now 😏

landonorris: charles…don’t.

charles_leclerc: hehehe

yourusername: you’re just his rebound. you’ll never be me.

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiatsri what do you think?

oscarpiastri: i still like yn better

charles_leclerc: i bought you ice cream…

oscarpiatri: you could never be her 🤷

yourusername; IM COMING HOME FOR YOU OSCAR

landonorris: see what you did charles?

maxverstappen1: how are you holding up?

yourusername: i feel like my hearts been ripped out of my chest. i have no reason to wake up.

maxverstappen1: oh!

user34: max was NOT expecting that answer

user35: if oscar doesn’t get himself over to that damn island soon istg

user36: THATS HER BOY 💔💔💔

oscarpiastri: did you find any crabs? :D

yourusername: yes. i will put them in my suitcase and take them with me to show you

user37: so this is crazy!

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 713,046 others!

yourusername: look who joined us!! my son <3

view comments below!

user38: THEY REUNITED!!!

maxverstappen1: how did she take it? 🤣

landonorris: she cried.

yourusername: i did not!

landonorris: yeah baby you did…

oscarpiastri: yn you know how much i hate agreeing with lando, but yes you did cry

yourusername: I MISSED MY SON, GOD FORBID I CRY??

user39: i get you yn. i really do

user40: omg this is so cute

user41: truly adorable

oscarpiastri: now i can see all the crabs in person :D

yourusername; THATS MY SON EVERYONE

charles_leclerc: he was mine first 🥲

yourusername: #getoverit??

landonorris; can’t believe you cried when you saw him

yourusername: i was EMOTIONAL

landonorris: in the four years we’ve been dating you have never cried when seeing me

yourusername: i see you all the time! no need to cry!

landonorris: i want you to cry! cry for me!

oscarpiastri: you could never be me ;)

landonorris: i will send you back to australia

yourusername: if you send him back, i’m going with him

landonorris: WOW.

user42: we have officially entered the era where yn is choosing oscar over lando

user43: her son > her boyfriend

danielricciardo: does this mean i can hop on a plane and go visit you

landonorris: NO. this is officially a family vacation.

danielricciardo: and i’m not family? 💔

yourusername: you’re that one uncle that you see twice a year and don’t talk to or interact with for the rest of said year.

danielricciardo; yeah that makes sense.

. . .

notes; thank you for requesting!! hope you enjoyed :)

5K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

Text

do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—”

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips.

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly.

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest.

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips.

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both.

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall.

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses.

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair.

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence.

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door.

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening.

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara.

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy.

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands.

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose.

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue.

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that.

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y.

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small.

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself.

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer.

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him.

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission.

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye.

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours.

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought.

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist.

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips.

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place.

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind.

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow.

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear.

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing.

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision.

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this.

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable.

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back.

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression.

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth.

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone.

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt.

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway.

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.”

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally.

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb.

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords.

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms.

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him.

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day.

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold.

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness.

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you.

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters.

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten.

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you.

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you.

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin.

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way.

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot.

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts.

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach.

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again.

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself.

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over.

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe.

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second.

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words.

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles.

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him.

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is.

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up.

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow.

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you.

“Really?”

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic.

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology.

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering.

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off.

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you.

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?”

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately.

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark.

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation.

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have.

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot.

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again.

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast.

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his.

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise.

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear.

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore.

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit.

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance.

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt.

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed.

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking.

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried.

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles.

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one.

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks.

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body.

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself.

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh.

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else.

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm.

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?”

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly.

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked.

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off.

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination.

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk.

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass.

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush.

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked.

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are.

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers.

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft.

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence.

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands.

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly.

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso.

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten.

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense.

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up.

He’s still perfect.

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear.

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit.

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him.

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent.

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him.

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod.

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately.

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging.

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth.

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths.

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle.

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever.

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest.

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely.

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours.

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times.

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you.

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment.

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin.

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you.

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows.

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders.

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again.

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish.

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are.

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance.

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly.

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous.

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for.

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly.

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time.

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you.

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two.

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you.

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours.

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you.

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre.

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in.

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static.

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak.

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern.

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good.

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling.

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time.

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you.

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound.

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good.

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums.

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him.

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses.

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily.

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster.

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect.

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face.

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear.

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies.

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are.

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt.

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine.

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe.

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure.

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him.

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good.

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it.

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him.

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps.

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you.

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward.

But it’s too much all combined.

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers.

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained.

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob.

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach.

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you.

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly.

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes.

“Hi.”

He smiles.

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back.

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage.

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs.

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe.

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile.

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek.

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms.

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be.

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you.

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face.

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies.

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems.

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself.

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin.

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile.

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty.

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now.

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color.

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks.

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too.

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves.

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves.

You want the same.

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.”

part eight

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic

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cyberrmusee · 4 days ago

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got a request for loser!choso by an anon :3 hope you like it anon!! :D

loser!choso who always watched you from afar, admiring your popularity as you hung with a large crowd of friends, smiling and giggling, jealousy bubbling in his blood.

loser!choso who always secretly left you flowers and notes on the windshield of you car, too scared to face you himself and talk to you, with your large crow of friends surrounding you constantly.

loser!choso who finally gained a modicum of confidence and started complimenting you on your cute & preppy outfits and the way your hair always looked so pretty, a blushing stuttering mess every time he spoke to you—avoiding eye contact.

loser!choso who became obsessed with you and kinda started stalking you on campus, sort of on accident definitely not, he knew your favorite food spots, watched you at every party you attended and even memorized your coffee order at the nearby cafe after watching you order it every straight for a week.

loser!choso who was a complete perv and snapped pictures of you when you weren’t looking, they wouldn’t even be provocative, just pictures of you mid conversation with someone or standing alone, he’d be pumping his pathetic cock in his hand at night while swiping through his camera roll, whimpering your name as he came on his own hand, wishing it was your tight cunt instead.

loser!choso who got caught by you, snapping the pervy pictures of you in your cute little skirt, you scolding him while dragging him by his ear telling him how he’d make this up to you by doing your homework assignments for a month.

loser!choso who finally got to feel your pussy grip him during your ovulation week while you were over at his place letting him do your homework—

his hips clapping against your ass relentlessly as he chased his and yours nth orgasm, while he practically cried into your pussy, profusely apologizing and begging for god knows what, but his hips never faltering.

“m’sorry—ngh—m’sorrrryyyy.. so so s-sorry.. please.. please… pleaseeeee”

you were ruined, you stopped counting how many times you’d came long ago, a mess between your legs as he held your head down into the pillow with one hand while the other held your hip in place. watching his cock slide in and out of you, obscenely loud sloshing and squelching noises bouncing off the wall right along with his whimpers as he reached another climax, abdomen tightening as he staggered his hips and came, painting your insides white with his hot seed for what had to be the millionth time.

you slumped forward, legs and body trembling from the way his cock worked your cunt out, only for him to flip you over into missionary, and get in between your legs, no fucking way, he was still hard.

“no more cho… can’t take it” you breathed out. he whined and leaned closer placing himself at your entrance “m’sorry, just one more.. please.. please.. need it.. need you.. pleaseeeee”

you rolled your eyes “fine one more.. then we’re done, you’ve got homework to finish” you huffed tiredly.

he stopped listening after he heard you say ‘fine’ and sunk right into to you, already crying and whimpering while he rocked his hips forward.

you were sort of amazed at how he could just keep going, how hard he stayed for you, it was kind of an ego boost and you smirked tiredly thinking to yourself ….

fucking loser.

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infictionalwonderland · 10 months ago

Note

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

part 1 / part 3

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone��s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.��

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

#marvel cast x reader #marvel cast #avengers #the avengers imagine #avengers x reader #famous reader #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan imagine #chris evans imagine #sebastian stan x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #chris evans #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #actress reader

5K notes · View notes

sunniques · 1 month ago

Text

— 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !

➺ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: your stepdad shows you how blissful life would be if it was just you and him.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, age gap, reader can be carried by cheol, mentions of drugging, daddy kink, spanking, cockwarming, fingering, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, mirror sex, having sex while someone else is in the same room, creampies, squirting

➺ WC: 6.5k

NOTE: PLF MASTERLIST. don’t like, don’t read. thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading <3

Seungcheol is conscious of the fact that he’s been acting out of character ever since his wife returned from visiting her parents. Maybe he’s being too obvious about no longer wanting to stay married, but he doesn’t care. Not when making you happy is the greatest joy in his life.

“Cheolie,” you say sweetly as you gently tug on his hand to get his attention. “Look at this one! It’ll look so good on you!”

You’re giddily pointing at one of the many necklaces on display. It’s exactly the type of jewelry he likes to wear, and his heart tightens with affection at the fact that you know that. Unlike his wife.

“Sir, box this necklace up for me please,” he says to the employee attending you two without looking away from your smiling face.

“The price—”

“It’s fine,” Seungcheol waves him off without any hesitation. “I’ll pay whatever price.”

Even the man blushes when Seungcheol brings your intertwined hands to his lips to place a sweet kiss on the back of your hand. His love for you is so clear, and he thinks it’s extremely sweet that your boyfriend(?) bought every single piece of jewelry you said will look good on him without any hesitation.

“What about you, sweetheart?” Seungcheol says as he tugs you closer. “Do you want anything else?”

You tilt your head with a thoughtful hum. The cute bracelet and matching rings were enough for you, but there is something else you want. Something that only Seungcheol could get you and would mean more to you than the things you picked out.

“Will you choose something for me?”

Seungcheol’s heart stutters at the way you blink up at him, eyes shining with affection and anticipation. There’s no way he could ever say no to you, and the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of you going around wearing something he chose for you. So he pulls you to the opposite end of the counter where the more expensive items are at.

After you’re done, Seungcheol savors the walk to the car. Your hand in his feels so right. It’s almost like his hand was made to fit with yours. Even on the drive home, Seungcheol doesn’t let go of your hand. He’s not ready to yet. Knowing that he’ll have to let you go and act like you didn’t spend the day together is getting harder for him. Having to hide everything he feels for you is bothering him more and more as the days go on.

“We’re home!” You call loudly as you walk into the large foyer.

“You’re back!”

Your mom rises from the couch when you step into the living room. Immediately, she goes to hug your stepdad. You stifle a laugh when Seungcheol obviously dodges her kiss and it lands on his cheek instead. Your mom frowns but doesn’t say anything. Instead she focuses on all the shopping bags in her husband’s hands.

“What’s all this?” She glances up at her husband before looking back at you. “Did you ask Seungcheol to take you shopping?”

“He offered,” you say casually, trying not to sound smug. “Since we’re spending next week at the villa.”

Your mom sighs and looks at her husband pointedly. “You didn’t need to buy her so many things.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Seungcheol says sincerely. “It’s the first time we’re going away together as a family, so I wanted to spoil her a little.”

Your mom frowns, but doesn’t argue. “Fine, but Y/N, at least help your stepdad with the bags!”

Seungcheol waves his wife off, assuring her once again that it’s no problem. You shrug insouciantly when your move gives you an irritated look. It’s not your fault her husband’s love language is acts of service (not that she would know). Instead of lingering downstairs so she can nag you, you follow your stepdad upstairs.

A warm feeling tugs on your chest when you see him set down all the bags beside your bed. You wonder what it would would be like to live every day like this—a life where it’s just you and him. The fleeting thought pushes you to go and hug him from behind.

Seungcheol smiles when you lean your head against him and tighten your arms around his waist.

“Thank you for my gifts, Cheolie.”

The words are spoken sincerely and with no trace of lust. Only with pure, unadulterated affection. It makes him smile wider. “You’re welcome, baby.”

You two stay like that for a while until your mom’s voice calls for her husband. A petulant frown takes over your face as you reluctantly step away from Seungcheol. It’s times like these where you wonder how much longer you can keep doing this. Sharing him wasn’t (that much of) an issue for you before, but things shifted drastically after the weekend you two spent alone. Now, Seungcheol feels more like yours than he ever has.

What you don’t realize is that your stepdad feels the same way, only his feelings are ten times more intense than your own.

That night, Seungcheol lays in bed and goes over his plan to make sure his wife doesn’t get in the way next week. He plans to have fun with you and only you. It’s the perfect opportunity to show you what a life with him will be like. By the end of the week, he knows you’ll want nothing more than to start a life where it’s just the two of you.

“Mom, it’s not a real vacation if you work the entire time,” you say with a sigh.

As usual your mom waves you off with a disinterested hum. She types away on her computer, only pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “I just need to answer a few emails.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

Even though it’s such a nice day out, your mom refuses to go anywhere. The most she’s willing to do is sit out on the terrace and work. It makes you wonder why she suggested this vacation in the first place.

“Why don’t you go keep Seungcheol company?” Your mom suggests without looking up. “He’s inside watching a movie.”

You sigh again and head to the living room where your stepdad is. Licking your lips, you go over and join him on the couch. Seungcheol smiles warmly when you sit down next to him. He wraps a strong arm around your waist to pull you closer. His hand slowly trails up until his fingers are teasing your nipple. The thin sundress you’re wearing makes it easy for him to get it to pebble.

“You look so cute, princess,” Seungcheol says as he roughly squeezes your tit. “Did you wear my favorite dress on purpose?”

The devious smirk you give him makes him groan quietly. He yanks up the hem of your dress, exposing your plush thighs and bare pussy to the cool air. Seungcheol licks his lips. “Fuck. You just wanted me to see your cute little cunt, didn’t you, brat?”

“Yes,” you say as your body burns with need.

You spread your thighs, bearing your dampening cunt completely for your stepdad. Seungcheol goes to cup your pussy, thumb slowly rubbing dizzying circles on your clit.

“You’re already so wet,” he groans in delight. “What a little slut.”

You mewl as he slowly sinks two fingers into your clenching hole. A loud whine gets stuck in your throat as Seungcheol’s fingers venture deeper into your needy cunt, eagerly seeking out the spongy spot that always reduces you to a moaning mess. You rock your hips slightly as you turn your head to bury it in his broad shoulder.

“Daddy,” you whimper as his fingers flex deeper into your soaked pussy. “Make me cum.”

“Nasty girl,” Seungcheol’s smirk is wolfish as he sinks a third finger into you. “You that desperate for me?”

Your cunt throbs and releases more juices as his long fingers scissor you open. Arousal pools in the pit of your stomach as your tight walls flutter around his fingers. They slowly pick up the pace, reaching the spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Yes—fuck. It feels so good, daddy,” you whine brokenly as your tight walls suck on his fingers.

“You’re going to get us caught if you keep being loud, baby,” Seungcheol groans as his thick cock strains against his sweatpants.

You moan softly when his fingers slide deeper inside you to press against the sensitive spot that always makes your brain shut down. He laughs in his throat when your eyes shut and your mouth drops open in a silent moan. The sound of your arousal gets louder with every passing moment. Seungcheol’s eyes are dark as he grabs your leg to hook it over his own to spread your pussy wider for him.

“God, just look at how wet you are,” Seungcheol uses his free hand to grab the back of your head and force you to watch as he plays with your squelching pussy. “Dripping all over my nice couch.”

“Can’t help it, daddy,” you whimper as you watch his long fingers penetrate your tight hole. “I’ll lick it clean later.”

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, cock throbbing at your filthy words. You’re both entranced with how your cream is coating his long fingers, noticeably creating a ring where his wedding band is. You can’t deny that you love how your juices stain the metal. It’s like you’re claiming his as yours.

“Nasty little slut,” Seungcheol growls as he works your pussy open. “You like daddy fingerfucking you while your mom is on the terrace?”

You close your eyes and nod dizzily.

“Keep your eyes open, brat.”

The demand is followed by a harsh slap on your cunt. Your loud cry mixes in with the lewd sounding smack. Seungcheol quickly stifles your cry by smashing his lips onto yours. He swallows all your moans and mewls as he forces his tongue into your mouth. The way his tongue massages yours is enough to push you over the edge.

Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as your orgasm rips through you. Seungcheol groans into your mouth as you gush all over his fingers. Your soft cry sounds so hot, even if it is stifled by his mouth.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs adoringly as you grind into his hand. “Fuck. It’s so easy to make you cum.”

You whine when he slowly pulls his fingers out of your soaking cunt. Your pussy flutters when you see sticky strings of arousal clinging to his long digits. Seungcheol gives you a filthy smirk before he sucks on his fingers, groaning lowly at your sweet taste.

“Can I have your cock now, daddy?” You bat your eyelashes in the way that always gets him to do what you want.

Seungcheol immediately pulls down his sweats enough to let his cock spring free. It pulses with need as he goes to lay you on your back. Your dress is pulled higher to completely expose your messy pussy.

“Be good for me, baby,” your stepdad hisses as he rubs his leaking tip between your folds.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as Seungcheol collects your arousal on his cock. He smirks down at you before slowly easing into you. His groan makes you clamp down on him.

“Goddamn,” Seungcheol groans when he finally bottoms out. “Pretty little pussy’s always so fucking tight.”

Impatient as ever, you start to grind up into him, using his cock like a toy. Seungcheol’s eyes gleam with fondness as your juices smear all over his pelvis. He starts to move, hips grinding into yours. You moan quietly as his thick cock stretches and fills your needy hole.

“Harder, daddy,” you whine like the brat you are. “Make me cum all over your big cock.”

Seungcheol growls quietly. He loves how nasty and needy you get whenever your mom’s around. As always, he can’t deny you or himself that pleasure. Your stepdad starts fucking into you roughly, making your pretty tits bounce in your dress. He roughly yanks down the material, loving how hard your nipples are. He swoops down to suck and bite on them, hips never stopping as he fucks his thick cock into your aching cunt.

“Daddy!” You mewl, arching your back and forcing your tit deeper into his mouth.

You love how he’s fucking you like some mindless animal. His cock is drenched with your cream, completely coated to the hilt. You cry out when his leaking tip hits your sweet spot, repeatedly ramming it over and over again.

Seungcheol nips at your nipple before moving to give the other one the same attention. His heavy balls slap your ass with every thrust, and he can feel his orgasm quickly approaching.

The sound of the glass doors sliding open startles you, but not enough to tell your stepdad to stop. Seungcheol slows his movements, but makes no move to slip out of your pussy. He releases your nipple with a too loud pop and slowly straightens out. You cover your mouth with your hands, pussy clenching as you hear footsteps fade into the direction of the kitchen.

“Honey, where’s Y/N?”

Seungcheol eyes flicker down to you, cock throbbing at the sight of you all fucked out underneath him. All his wife has to do is walk in his direction to see her lovely daughter stuffed full of cock with her pretty tits out. She’d see the remnants of his spit on them and know he was licking and sucking on them like he’d never done to hers.

“She went upstairs. I think the movie bored her.”

Luckily, only your stepdad’s head and shoulders are visible from over the back of the couch. You’re completely hidden, which is why Seungcheol slowly starts to drive his girthy cock into you. You’re sure that if the movie wasn’t playing, your mom would be able to hear the lewd squelching coming from your pussy.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to have to jump on a call in a bit,” your mom says dismissively, clearly not too interested in your whereabouts. If only she knew. “I’ll be out on the terrace for a while.”

“Fine,” Seungcheol’s voice is a bit strained as his wife comes out of the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee. “Just make sure you tell your boss that this is the only call you’ll take this week.”

His hips have stopped moving by now, but the fact that you can tell your mom has come closer makes you clench down on his cock. You stifle a whine as you carefully grind on his dick. Your clit bumps against his pelvis, making your eyes cross from pleasure.

“You know I can’t do that,” your mom sounds disapproving as she looks down at her phone. “The company needs me. No one knows more about this proposal than I do.”

Using the distraction on her phone to his advantage, Seungcheol grabs your hips and pulls you down on him as he gently thrusts forward. The fat tip of his cock slams right into your sweet spot, and you can barely hold back your moan. Light tremors rake through your body as your stepdad keeps fucking you while his wife in none the wiser. His hands slip down to your thighs before he presses them into the couch to keep you spread for him.

Fuck. It’s such a filthy sight that he almost wishes his wife would see it. That way she would see for herself how much better you look taking his cock.

“Okay. Just let me know when you’re done working. Y/N wanted to go to the beach later.”

His heated gaze stays on you as his wife mumbles a dismissive agreement. Seungcheol’s cock throbs as his wife walks back out to the terrace, sliding the door closed with an audible click.

Seungcheol lets out a dark laugh and immediately goes back to pounding your hot cunt. He grabs your hips and pulls you to meet his rough thrusts. Loud squelching and skin slapping fills the large room as your ravenous stepdad uses you to get closer to his orgasm.

“God, baby. You get so tight when you think we might get caught.” Seungcheol groans loudly, knowing his wife has put in her earphones by now to focus on her meeting. “You like the idea of your mom catching you fucking her husband?”

You nod through an impetuous moan. “Yes—fuck. I wonder what she’d do if she saw how much better you like my little pussy.”

“Filthy little brat,” Seungcheol groans fondly as he keeps pumping his leaking dick into you.

“You like it too, daddy,” you moan as his frantic movements grow rougher. “Just knowing your wife might walk in and see you stretching me out on your big cock turns you on.”

Seungcheol moans, unable to deny it. He starts to rub fast circles on your raw clit, eager to get you to cum on his cock. He gives you a filthy smirk when you tighten around him again.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Cream all over my cock so I can fill you up like you want?”

Your stepdad fucks into you harder when you moan out a desperate yes. He rams his cock deeper into your pussy until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. Filthy noises mix in with the forgotten movie as Seungcheol’s thick cock spears into your messy hole. His fingers play with your sensitive bud, quickly driving you over the edge from how good it all feels.

You wrap your legs around him, pussy convulsing as you cream all over his dick.

Seungcheol groans out your name, sloppily fucking you through your orgasm. Your pulsing walls grip his cock tightly, effectively milking him for his hot cum. He shoots thick ropes into your pussy, filling you to the brim. You happily take it all, loving how it drips down his cock with every needy grind. He slaps your pussy playfully before capturing your lips in another nasty kiss.

You gently nip at his soft lips, not wanting to separate from him yet. “Let’s go upstairs, daddy. We need to clean up before lunch.”

Sometimes, you wonder if your mom cares about you at all. In the morning, you wake up to a text saying she’s cutting the vacation short because an emergency came up at work. You almost think you’re still dreaming until you rub the sleep out of your eyes and read the text again.

It’s not disappointing, not exactly. From the start you knew she didn’t actually want to go on vacation. It was just another attempt to save her failing marriage, but as usual, she put her career first.

You roll out of bed and go to the master bedroom. Right away, you can tell your mom is gone. All her stuff is gone, and you wonder just how early she got up to catch a flight back home. You pout when you notice that Seungcheol also isn’t in the room. Since your mom is gone now, you had planned to wake him up with some head. Just as you contemplate your next move, you hear noise coming from downstairs.

One thing you never thought you’d see is Seungcheol standing at the stove, shirtless and only wearing pajama bottoms. He’s cooking something that smells delicious, and the fact that he looks so hot doing it just makes it even better.

You quietly walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his chiseled torso. “Morning, Cheolie.”

“Morning, baby.” He says fondly.

Your stepdad shudders when you place a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. He basks in your touch, glad that you don’t immediately pull away from him now that you’re alone.

“I’m glad she’s gone,” you say after a while. “That way I can have you all to myself.”

Seungcheol knows he’s blushing, and he’s glad that you can’t see it. His heart pounds as he hums in agreement.

“We can do whatever you want, baby. Just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

You grin against his back, already planning the perfect day with him in your head.

After you two have breakfast, you and Seungcheol head to the beach. It’s a beautiful day out, and you love that you can openly hold his hand and be affectionate with him to your heart’s content.

“Let me put sunscreen on you, princess.”

You lay on your stomach, humming in delight when your stepdad’s big hands smooth down your back and legs. He really works the cream into your skin, making sure no place goes untouched. Once he’s done, you grin at him.

“Your turn.”

Seungcheol feels like he’s in heaven. He’s lying on his back with you sitting on his lap in the tiniest bikini he’s ever seen. You’re rubbing sunscreen all over his chest and torso, cooing about how hot he is every thirty seconds. He sees other men looking at him with pure envy, and that just makes the experience all the more sweeter. Because he belongs to you, and it’s clear that everyone on the beach knows it.

You spend most of the day at the beach, building sandcastles and playing in the pretty ocean. Being with Seungcheol makes you feel alive and at ease. He’s so easy to be with, and you can tell he feels the same way.

When you return to the villa, Seungcheol tells you to shower and get ready because he’s taking you to one of his favorite restaurants. The way you run upstairs while squealing with excitement is so endearing to him. He yells a reminder to use the bathroom in the master bedroom since that’s where you’ll be staying for the rest of the week. He laughs heartedly when you respond with yes, daddy!

Seungcheol has never felt more lucky than he does now with you on his arm. You cling to him as you’re escorted to a secluded table with a fantastic view of the city. Seungcheol pulls out your chair, eyes trained on the glittering necklace around your neck.

“You keep staring,” you say teasingly as your stepdad goes to sit down.

“It’s because you look incredible in diamonds,” he says honestly. “I’ll have to get you matching earrings next time.”

Your stomach flips in excitement. Not because he’s talking about getting you something incredibly expensive to go along with the diamond necklace he bought you, but because he says it like you deserve nothing less.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, eying the necklace you picked out for him.

“My girl has incredible taste.” He says with a flirtatious smile.

The words make your heart stutter. It’s the first time he’s said something like that without being in a sexual setting. You don’t hate it. Actually, you like it a little too much.

“What kind of wine do you prefer?” Seungcheol wonders as he looks through the menu.

“Choose for me,” you say. “I want to know what you prefer.”

Seungcheol tries to contain his smile as he tells the waiter to bring a bottle of red wine. It’s hard not to feel like a giddy schoolboy when you make it clear the relationship you two have is not just one sided. His heart soars every time you demand to know more about him.

The rest of the night feels like a beautiful dream, one that neither of you want to wake up from.

“Let’s go upstairs. I want to fuck you properly.”

You laugh excitedly as Seungcheol leads you up the stairs. He’s playfully biting at your neck and letting his hands roam your body. It feels so blissful that you barely register that you’ve made it to the master bedroom.

Seungcheol spanks your ass before he’s desperately yanking your dress off. You go to take off the expensive necklace you’re wearing, but he stops you.

“Leave it on.”

You feel arousal drip down your thighs as you go to lay on the bed. Seungcheol quickly takes off his own clothes. His eyes are locked on your body, staring at you like you’re his prey. You’re no better. Like always, you can’t take your eyes off of his girthy cock.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” Seungcheol demands as he gets on the bed. “I need to taste you.”

You do as he says, eager to feel his tongue slipping through your folds. A loud moan cuts through the air when he buries his face in your pussy. He places open mouth kisses on your lips and clit, eager to make you fall apart on his tongue.

“Fuck, daddy,” you moan at you use your hands to hold yourself open for him.

Seungcheol fucks his tongue into your fluttering hole, moaning at the taste of you. He quickly loses himself in your taste, slurping up every bit of your arousal. You clench down on his tongue as he messily licks back up to your clit. You writhe underneath him as he sucks your pulsing bud into his hot mouth. Eagerly, you grind your clenching cunt into his mouth.

“So fucking sweet,” your stepdad groans as he slowly pulls back.

You cry out when he gives your pussy a harsh slap. The wet smack sends tingles up your spine. Your pussy is pulsing as you stare at Seungcheol with hungry eyes. His lower face is completely covered with your juices, and he’s never looked hotter. You moan when he slaps your cunt again. It hurts so good, and you arch into it when he keeps doing it. Each slap is harder than the last, and by the time he’s done, you’re gushing all over the sheets.

“Roll over for me, baby.”

You do as he says, pussy clenching in eagerness. He’s always so rough when he takes you from the back. Seungcheol’s eyes are dark as he yanks you toward him. Just when you think he’s going to tease you, he sinks his cock into your pussy.

“Take daddy’s cock like a good little princess.”

You let out a wanton cry when he harshly bottoms out. His leaking tip slams right into your g-spot and forces more juices out of your hot cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you deepen your arch.

“Fuck me, daddy!”

Seungcheol growls in his throat before he pulls his cock out of you halfway only to slam it back into your clenching heat. Arousal gushes from your pussy at his rough movements. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. A quiet whine escapes you when Seungcheol grabs your hair and pulls your head up to make you look into the mirror across from the massive bed. The sight is so filthy and hot that you start to lose yourself in the pleasure of it all.

Your stepdad starts pounding into your tiny pussy, fat cock stretching you out just how you like. As your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hips start to move on their own accord, rocking back on him to get his dick deeper inside of you.

“That’s it, baby,” Seungcheol groans, drilling his cock deeper into your squelching pussy. “Work that hot little cunt on your stepdad’s cock. Fuck. Get it nice and wet for me.”

You move your hips more eagerly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Seungcheol hammers into your sweet spot. He’s relentless, fucking you like you’re nothing more than a hole.

“Keep your eyes on me, brat,” Seungcheol commands as he gives your ass a hard smack.

He meets your eyes in the mirror and smirks. God is he fixated on you and the way you look while he’s splitting you open. Your diamond necklace dangles with every rough thrust, and it makes his cock twitch and throb. As always, Seungcheol was right. You look so lovely getting fucked in the diamond necklace he picked out for you.

“Da-Daddy,” you gasp out.

“So fucking tight,” Seungcheol groans, fucking into you harder than before.

The sound of skin slapping together gets louder, and so do your filthy moans. You watch Seungcheol in the mirror, loving how hot he looks while he destroys your pussy.

“You’re so fucking hot, daddy,” you whine as you spread your legs.

Seungcheol hums approvingly and starts snapping his hips into you. He slaps your bouncing ass, pistoning his big cock in and out of your dripping cunt like a madman. You’re completely gone, moaning and mewling like it’s all you know how to do. It makes him go harder, fucking into your tight little pussy with no mercy.

“Tomorrow, we’ll do this outside.” Seungcheol decides, cock throbbing at the idea. “I’ll fuck you out in the open like the nasty slut you are.”

You slip your fingers down to rub your pudgy clit, loving his filthy words and how much they turn you on. Seungcheol lets out a dark laugh when he notices.

“Like that? Yeah, I bet you do,” he groans, taking his eyes off the mirror to watch your pretty ass recoil against his pelvis. “Dirty little brat. I’m gonna cream your little pussy until you can’t take anymore.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you mewl. “You’re so dirty.”

Seungcheol laughs as he drills his cock deeper into your cunt. His heavy balls slap your clit and drive you closer to your climax. All your stepdad has to do is give you one last thrust to push you over the edge. You yell out his name as your pussy gushes with your orgasm. Your stepdad groans loudly at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing his dick.

“That’s it, princess. Cream all over daddy’s cock like a good girl.”

You bounce back on him, eager to get him to stuff you full. “Cum inside me, daddy!”

Seungcheol moans your name and fucks his cock deep into your cunt before releasing his hot load inside you. Your pulsing walls milk him for everything he’s worth. Thick ropes of cum flood your little pussy until it’s leaking onto the soiled sheets. Slowly, Seungcheol pulls his cock out of your messy pussy. He loves the sight of his cum dripping out of your pretty cunt. It makes him ravenous all over again.

“Get up.”

You lick your lips and follow your stepdad as he gets off the bed. A squeal escapes you when he presses you against the wall. Seungcheol kisses you hotly as he pulls you closer to him. You barely notice as he goes to pick you up. He effortlessly throws your legs over his bulky arms before he teasingly drags his dripping cock over your messy cunt.

“Guide me in, baby,” he says as he presses wet kisses on your jaw. “Let daddy slide into your tight pussy.”

You whimper, pussy dripping with revived arousal. Lust clouds your mind as you go to do as he says. With one hand on his broad shoulder, you grab his cum covered cock and guide it to your soaking entrance. His bulbous tip nudges your pussy before he sinks you down on his throbbing cock. His hips flex as he slowly starts to fuck up into your little cunt.

“God, baby. Your cute little pussy just keeps sucking me in.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks his cock against your sweet spot. Lewd squelching fills the room as your stepdad bounces you on his cock. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his big dick stretches you out for the second time. The slight pain from his thrusts make you clamp down on his cock tighter.

“Daddy,” you mewl almost pitifully. “You’re gonna break my pussy.”

Seungcheol laughs. Not only because you sound so fucked out, but because you rock your pussy down to meet his unhurried thrusts. You’re addicted to his cock, and he loves that you can never hide it.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he coos, eyes fixed on the way your bouncing tits make the diamond necklace look even prettier.

“Fuck,” you moan when he starts to fuck you harder. You gasp and moan when his hands go to grab your ass.

“Pretty little brat,” Seungcheol groans as he kneads and squeezes your ass. “You always look so pretty when you’re stuffed full of cock.”

He keeps thrusting into you until you’re cumming all over his cock. It makes him laugh in delight. “That’s it. Cream all over daddy’s cock. Fuck. Give me another one, baby. I know you can.”

You cry out as Seungcheol keeps bouncing you on his cock while he fucks up into your aching pussy. You’re drunk with pleasure, not bothering to stifle your wanton moans as you get split open with every rough thrust. The room reeks with the smell of sex, and it makes your pussy throb in delight. It always ends up this way, and you love that there’s always evidence left behind of how badly your stepdad is addicted to your tight little pussy.

“Cum again for me, sweetheart. Give daddy what he wants.”

Seungcheol smirks when you let out a fucked out whine. “What? Did daddy already fuck you dumb?”

Your pussy tightens and drips with more juices as you nod stupidly. Once again, your stepdad laughs meanly like he couldn’t be more proud that you can’t even respond to him properly.

Seungcheol squeezes your ass before he walks you back to the bed. You clamp down on him with every step he takes. A petulant whine of protest gets stuck in your throat when he pulls out of you with an obscenely wet sound. He tosses you on the bed before joining you.

“Dumb little brat. You can't stand not being stuffed full of your stepdad’s cock, huh?”

You give him a smirk, a little more lucid now. “Just like you can’t stand not having your cock buried in your stepdaughter’s pussy.”

Seungcheol places your legs over his shoulders and forces his cock back into your needy cunt. You cry out in pleasure, happy that your goading worked.

“You’re right. That’s why I’m gonna have to stay buried in your hot little cunt all week. Keep my little brat nice and full.”

You moan and grind your hips to meet his ravenous thrusts. “Fuck yes. Please, daddy. That’s all I want.”

Something about you begging so prettily and nicely always gets Seungcheol off. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna creampie this sweet little hole the entire time we’re here. That’s what a good stepdad does, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry, feeling another orgasm creeping up on you. “You’ll be a good stepdad and stuff my needy pussy, right, Cheolie?”

Something inside him switches when you use that endearing nickname. You’ve never used it during sex, but he doesn’t hate it. He absolutely loves it because it feels so much more intimate.

“Yes, baby,” his deep voice makes your toes curl. “I’m gonna give you a nice hot load. As many times as you want.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his filthy promise. His cock throbs and twitches inside you as he moves one of his hands to rub and pinch at your puffy clit.

“Cum for me, princess. Need your tight little pussy to milk me again,” Seungcheol coos softly.

You pant wantonly as your stepdad hammers his cock harder into your hot cunt. His fingers keep working your sensitive clit as he spears his thick cock deep into you. It’s all too much, and before you realize it, another orgasm crahses into your body.

“DADDY!” Your scream is loud as you arch your back, pussy gushing and clenching around Seungcheol’s huge cock.

“Fucking shit. That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for daddy.” Seungcheol groans as he fucks into your squirting cunt while your walls milk him for all he’s worth.

A feral noise leaves him as he buries his cock to the hilt, girthy length pulsing inside you as thick ropes of cum shoot into your pussy. Seungcheol fucks his spunk deeper inside you, leaning down to place gentle kisses all over your face.

“Taking it so well,” he murmurs adoringly, cock throbbing with pleasure. “Such a good girl for me.”

Seungcheol captures your lips in a heated kiss as his cock releases the last bit of cum. He pulls away and gives you one last affectionate peck before he sits up. His cocks slowly slips out of you, and Seungcheol’s eyes get impossibly darker when he sees his cum slowly tricking from your pussy. You love the possessive look on his face so you clench your pussy to push out more of his hot cum.

“This week’s going to be perfect.” He sighs contentedly.

You hum in agreement, making grabby hands at him. Seungcheol smiles sweetly and goes to cuddle you how you want. You sigh into his chest, letting the exhaustion take over.

“Love you, Cheolie. So much.”

Seungcheol presses a sweet kiss to your hair, basking in the feeling of having you in his arms. “I love you too, baby. More than anything.”

“So, how’s your vacation going?”

Seungcheol hums against your scalp, holding back a groan when you unconsciously clench down on him. You two decided to spend the day by the pool, which led to you wanting to cockwarm him. So now, he’s laying on one of the pool chairs with you on top of him. Your bikini bottoms are pulled to the side as his big cock pulses inside of you.

The fact that he can lull you to sleep while his dick is inside you is so endearing to him. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, and once he hangs up his call he’ll fuck you awake, just how you like.

“Amazing,” Seungcheol doesn’t bother to hide the bliss in his voice. “Thanks again for calling my wife into work.”

Jeonghan laughs deviously. “I owed you one. You helped me pull off my plan.”

Seungcheol laughs along as he thinks back to the pills he gave his friend for his own nefarious agenda. “It took you longer than I thought.”

“You of all people know that plans like ours take time. If anything went wrong, I would’ve lost everything.” Jeonghan sighs as he thinks back on how long it took to perfectly orchestrate everything. “And you know I would never let myself be a bad guy in my little girl’s eyes.”

It’s true. He’s sure Jeonghan would rather die than have his stepdaughter think less of him.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says after a beat of silence. “What’s the next step? I can only keep your wife busy with work for so long.”

Seungcheol grins when you cuddle deeper into his neck. You’re close to waking up, so he’ll have to cut his call short.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a devious grin as his hand smooths down your back. “By this time next year, my ex wife won’t even be a thought.”

#seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol x reader #svt smut #dovenet #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #svt x reader #svt x you

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nanaslutt · 1 year ago

Note

Can we get a part 2 of when reader asks satoru and suguru if they fucked before

of course ml!! tysm for asking <3

part 1 here~

contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, choking, hair pulling, anal sex (gojo gets fucked) spanking (geto spanks gojo once), dirty talk, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, dare i say sub satoru, sub/dom dynamics if you squint, suguru and reader are competitive, u tag team gojo together

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“so, when we’re you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?” you asked, raising your eyebrows

gojo froze in place, pausing his efforts to get a towel to clean you up, he slowly turns to you, faux innocence on his stupidly pretty face, a big hand coming to rub the back of his neck

both you and geto stare at him, a smirk plastered on sugurus handsome features, heavy hand holding up his head, awaiting his response,

“now what on earth put that idea in your pretty little head?” he questions, hand falling on his hip sassily as he does an absolutely awful job lying

“oh i don’t knoww,” you drawl, pretending to think, “maybe geto telling you he was going to fuck you like it was the most normal thing in the world,” you scrunched your nose, shrugging

“but what do i know!” your eyebrows raised, suppressing a smile,

“nothing, you know nothing,” he replied, wiggling his finger back and forth in front of him like a child

“don’t tell me you forgot satoru, you might hurt my feelings.” geto teased, from his place between your calves, tilting his head to the side, “i know we were a little tipsy, but you told me i was an unforgettable fuck.” he pouted, faking offense, “you weren’t lying to me were you?”

satoru’s hand still on his hip like the sassy man he was, his mouth just flopping open and closing like a fish out of water, trying to think of a quick retort but failing to come up with anything, because the raven haired man was right

he was a truly unforgettable fuck

“now my feelings are hurt, he didn’t say I was an unforgettable fuck..” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest,

“your mouth almost sucked the soul out of me,” he echoed from the hall

he had taken the opportunity of getos attention on you while he was ‘consoling’ you to slip out of the room, walking back in with a few damp towels, “course you’re an unforgettable fuck, way more than that monkey brained freak,” he hisses at geto, sitting next to you on the bed, using the warm towel to wipe his cum from your cheeks,

“oh? really?” geto let his head fall from his hand, landing against your knee, squinting his eyes at satoru while the blonde continued cleaning down your body, wiping up any fluids the two men had left

“think i remember making you cum..how many times was it again? 4? you were shooting blanks before i was even done with you” he smiles, rubbing your knee fondly with his strong hand while staring at gojo challengingly,

gojo looks away from your breasts, staring back into geto’s deep brown eyes,

“n they only made you cum once..” suguru mumbles into your knee,

“woah! woah, okay, I didn’t know i was competing with you in the first place!” you defend yourself, front half of your body shooting up, making gojo sigh as you accidentally knocked his hand back, “‘s not about quantity anyways, it’s about quality” you said smugly,

“n toru here, said I almost made him die so id say my quality is michelin star,” you proclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him before gojo pushed ur torso back down,

“i’m surrounded by a buncha babies jesus christ,” gojo shakes his head, pulling your leg out of sugurus grasp to access your leaking cunt better, pressing the harsh cloth against you and wiping you as gently as he could,

“sorry,” he winced for you in sympathy when you groaned out a protest, trying to close your legs on his hand at how painfully sensitive the rough towel made you feel, “anyways, you’re both good in bed, kay?” he continues,

“when suguru fucks me, it feels like my fucking guts are getting all messed up to make room for his stupidly big cock,” looking up through his lashes at sugurus smug expression, then back down to focus on what he was doing before making eye contact with you,

your arms still crossed over your chest, “n your throat squeezes me so fucking good i thought i was seein the pearly gates,” hand coming up to pinch your cheek, discarding the towel somewhere on the floor, standing once more to look for someone’s shirt on the floor he can put on,

“ ‘fucks’ as in you’ve had sex multiple times?” you stared in disbelief between the two of the large men, before settling your eyes on suguru

continuing your teasing you spoke up again, “and my compliment still sounded better,” you challenged him, a smug looks gracing your features

“you think so?” the raven haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, before turning his head to look straight at gojo’s supple bent over ass as he picked up a shirt and started to pull it over his head, “well, only one way to be sure which of us is really better.” he says to you quietly before standing

coming up behind gojo and grabbing his raised arms, preventing him from putting on his shirt, “hold that thought satoru, we’re in the middle of a little debate right now” yanking the shirt from satoru’s hands and throwing it back to its prior home on the floor,

“think you can help us? hmm?” he whispers, right into the shell of his best friends ear, sending goosebumps down his neck, “we’ll make it worth your while.”

———————————————————————

almost two hours later and the three of you were still in the same room, on the same bed,

gojo on his back, suguru fucking his cock right into his prostate as you face gojo, bouncing on his overstimulated dick, a thick ring of yours and his combined cum on the base of his overstimulated cock,

“c-cant cum anymore p-please- haaah- fuck please!” gojo whimpers out, thrashing his head back and forth on the sheets as fat tears drip down his face, making his cheeks shine under the light, “‘s too much ‘m too sensitive, ohmygodd” he drags, curses spilling from his lips one after another, his hold on your grip sure to leave nasty bruises as his hips fuck into your warm cunt without his brains permission,

“not till you tell us who’s better,” geto emphasizes with a heavy thrust, hand coming up to choke you out while he gives gojos poor hole the meanest treatment,

“‘s me right? ‘ve made you cum inside me so many times.” you slur, voice strained from getos rough grip on your throat

“bold of you to think that was your doing,” geto scoffs at you, “cmere,” he pulls your head back to press your lips together, other hand interlacing with gojos on your hip

satoru whines underneath the two of you, watching you makeout and feeling your cunt pulse around him because of suguru’s expert tongue work in your mouth had him spiraling

your hands coming up to grab geto’s wrist while he hums into the kiss, biting your lip between his teeth and pulling on it, letting it go before he chases after it and connects your lips once more

“‘m gunna cum again- please fuck- nggghhh i c-cant cum again,” gojo whines, squeezing getos hand and your hip for support as he’s falling into yet another orgasm and fast,

suguru pulls away from the kiss, releasing his grip on your neck as he pushes your lower back down twords gojos chest, “yes you can,” he growls

the raven haired man grabs your hair by the roots and pushes your face into satorus, “help him through it baby,” not needing to be told twice, you grab gojos cheeks with both your hands and slot your lips against his,

“mmmmph- mmm- can-t- p-please i-“ his protests being cut off by your lips, not letting him catch a breath

“got you, cmon” you comfort him in between your assault on his lips, geto reaching between his bestfriend and your body, finding your neglected clit, and rubbing sloppy circles on it, helping you get closer to your own high

“right there with you,” geto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back, so he can watch the show unfolding in front of him,

“gonna fill up this tight ass while you cum inside them, okay? and you’re gonna take everything we give you, right?” geto’s hips losing their rhythm, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm

gojo just whimpers into your mouth, hes trying to speak, he really is, but it’s all too much, he’s completely fucked out

“need to hear you say it satoru,” he emphasizes with a mean thrust, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight hole,

getos hand rubbing sloppily on your clit almost becomes too much, “yes! yesyes please ohmygod- gonna take it- shit-“ gojo’s whiney voice gets out just before he feels your cunt start to squeeze him,

“toru! fuuuuck me!” you whine, the blondes hips mindlessly fucking up into you helping you ride out your high as he cums so fucking hard, bordering on painful as spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you once more,

and he’s gasping, barely coherent broken moans of both of your names on satoru’s tongue

geto not far behind you as he stills, balls deep inside gojos ass, the last push he needed seeing the two of you cum all over each other,

“yesssss fuuuuck” he clenches his teeth together hard, toothy grin emerging on his face, finally letting his head fall back, eyes following suit, rolling to the back of his head, “take it f-fucking t-take it.” fucking each rope of his cum deep into gojo’s ass

all three of you bask in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms, core clenching and unclenching around gojo’s length as you finally come down, picking your head up from gojos neck and smiling at his current state,

he was sniffling and gasping, red faced, tears decorating his lashes, making them look like glitter, he appeared more fucked out than ever

geto behind him slowly pulls out his softening cock, and gojo lets out a long groan of overstimulation when he does so, digging his fingers into the fat of your sides and wincing, “fuck, please don’t move yet, might pass out if you do” he says to you, his poor dick crying for relief, still snug inside your pussy, twitching every so often against your walls

you giggle, peppering kisses all over his face, he lets his eyes shut, finally relaxing a little as he relishes in the feeling of your soft lips on his skin,

suguru coming around to sit by his head

when you stop your assult of kisses on his porcelain face geto grabs gojos cheek furthest away from him and makes him turn his head into his thick thigh, “so,” geto starts, rubbing his thumb on gojos cheek, “who was better?” he asks, cocky smile finding home once more on his face

gojos eyes shoot open, looking at him slightly panicked, squeezing your upper thighs for support before he speaks, looking back between the two of you,

“i….im afraid if i don’t answer we will never leave this room.” he gulps

geto confirms his fears, tilting his head to the side, face sporting the fakest smile of comfort gojo has ever seen, “you would be absolutely right.”

10K notes · View notes

rhaenyratargcryen · 7 months ago

Text

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.”

#twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #glen powell #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens smut #glen powell x reader #glen powell smut #as a former tyler dater this was soooo triggering for me to write #JFNLKQJBNF

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