#you don't have all the facts the facts are i love him

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Ride

Summary: Javi's a ride you can't resist (aka, it's more PWP LMAO)

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: It's all porn again, sorry- Javi's POV, unprotected p in v (pls do not do, but who am I to say), oral (m receiving), Javi is down BAD for you bouncin' on that thang, idk y'all, make men yearn insatiably 2025 is the motto for the year, I don't make the rules

A/N: Hey, remember when I said I was gonna write this and then didn't? Guess who finally finished this thing 🤠 Shout out to @yxtkiwiyxt for gracing my brain with this idea, and to @gothcsz for being insane about it with me!!! @jolapeno I'm dragging you into this, too heheheh y'all, it seems like it's 24/7 horny hours over here, so apologies about being insufferable for This Man™️ enjoy, before someone eventually (and inevitably) calls animal control on me!! (we're also considering this piece a research project, fellow pillow princesses rise up LMAOOOOOOO)

He doesn’t notice the way the corner of his lip has been turned upward since he left your apartment. The strain in his cheek muscles are the last part of his body he’s concerned about. 

It takes everything in him to pretend like he’s did have to waddle to his desk through the office this morning. While there’s a part of him that curses the fact he can’t handle himself the way he used to as a younger man, he’d be lying out of his goddamn teeth if he said that he’d never been happier to be this sore. 

And he’s only got you to blame. 

It’s safe to say his work efficiency is absolutely fucked today. The only thing he has the mental capacity for is the image of you, straddled across his hips, riding him until he was half way convinced he’d never walk again. 

It had started off innocent enough, your body draped across his on the couch, re-runs of a sitcom he couldn’t be bothered to remember playing in the background. It wasn’t long until you had found a way to crawl into his lap, cute and giggly pecks of your lips shifting into a frantic dance of tongues and teeth, hungry and needy. 

“Let me take care of you, Javi.” 

You had whispered it in his ear like a siren song, the sultry promise of your words making him grow harder by the second beneath you. 

It was a luxury he had forgone for too many years to count, to let someone else take the lead- to work herself slowly into his lap, worship every inch of him, and fuck him in a way he was convinced he’d never be worthy of. 

In Colombia, sex was far from luxurious. Better yet, sex was a survival instinct- a way to gain intel from questionable informants or a chance to finally numb his mind from the pressure and terror of the things he’d endured, even if just for a little while. It simply existed as another need, like food or water, a way to keep him alive in the chaos of a cartel ridden country. 

But now, he’s home. He wakes up in the morning to the soft Laredo sunrise and closes his eyes to the cicadas chirping as the sky shifts to darkness, unburdened by the weight of the world that used to haunt him. Now, he slips into bed next to the warmth and softness of your figure, curled in the sheets next to him. 

Now, the world is different, because he has you.  

Sex is no longer a need. It’s an overwhelming want that stirs his stomach every time he sees you. It’s a desire that burns deep in his chest, an all consuming thought, an itch he just can’t scratch. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t get enough of you. 

He still doesn’t understand how you can’t get enough of him, either. 

It’s not your words that solidify his belief that he’s worthy of you, even though every time you talk to him, he’s convinced he can’t breathe- He knows you love him from all the things your words can’t say. Your tender touch, gentle kisses on his lips whenever there’s a chance for them to meet, the way you can’t help but let your hands wander his body until they’ve explored every part of him with a fervent promise of desire. 

Perhaps there will always be a part of him convinced he’s not deserving of you, but with the way you have your hands wrapped around his cock, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, it’s all the convincing he needs for right now. 

It’s not long until your hands become your mouth, tongue dragging up and down the length of his shaft, swirling around his tip before sinking down so deep, he can feel the huffs of warm air from your nostrils tickling the hairs at his base. He’s lost in the warmth and wetness, hand tangled in your hair as he cradles the back of your head, gently guiding you up and down while you take him down your throat. 

As if he wasn’t wrecked already, it’s the devilish grin you shoot him with his cock buried deep inside your mouth, split dribbling down the corners of your curled lips, that has him all but whimpering, soft expletives and moans rapidly spilling out of him. 

He’s so drunk on you, eyes closed and head tipped back against the edge of the couch, he’s barely even registered when you’ve stopped, only looking up at you when he feels the way your weight has shifted, one hand bracing yourself against his chest while your hips hover over his cock. 

“You ready for me, cowboy?” 

He swears that one day that smirk will be damn near enough to kill him, but God knows he won’t let today be that day- not with what you’re about to do. 

All he can do is nod, the both of you breathless as you begin to sink down his length. It’s almost painfully slow, the way you’re taking him an inch at a time, teasing him the whole way down until you settle with him stuffing you to the brim, whining as your hips finally flush with his, taking everything he has to give. 

He’s not sure what higher power he needs to thank that you have the mercy to start slow- anything but the later, and he would have had no choice but to finish right then and there. His arms reach around your waist, fingers dipping in the dips of your hips as you roll them, like he’s holding on for dear life. 

Javi wishes his hands could be everywhere as you lean down to kiss him, that they could grope and grab at the plush of your breasts, cup your face, and smack your ass all at once. He needs you in a way that’s all consuming, a way that lets you know how lucky he is to have every part of you be his, and his alone. 

He’s handsy and fumbling like a goddamn teenager- you know it just as well as him. He should be embarrassed by the little giggle you give him in between the muffled moans of your mouths meeting, but he doesn’t care. Instead, for the first time in years, Javi laughs along with you. 

“Handsy, much?” You tease, nostrils crinkling and lips curling. 

“Can’t get enough of you, hermosa. Can never get enough of you.” 

You grant him one last kiss before you pull away, biting down on your lip as you watch his jaw drop at the way you shift your hips, leaning back to drag your cunt up and down his cock, sliding effortlessly with the way it’s drenched with your slick. 

The once forgiving ease of your pace has dissipated, your bottom half rocking as you ride him. He can’t decipher if the sultry smile spread across your face is from your own doing, or from the way he’s looking up at you, entranced and captivated by every movement you make. 

It’s enough of the second to seem to spur you on, bouncing faster on his length as your hands creep up your own chest, cupping your breasts in your hands to hold them as they jiggle. When your fingers slide across your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hardened buds between your index fingers and thumbs, Javi all but short circuits. There’s an extra ache in the way his cock throbs, watching the show you’re putting on for him. 

There’s something harmonious about the way your moans melt with the slap of your hips meeting his. Sure, it’s lewd, but fuck, if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard, watching you lose yourself in pleasure with the warmth and wet of your pussy wrapped around him. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Look so fucking pretty bouncing on my cock.” 

He’s not sure how he even has the capacity to form coherent thoughts anymore, desperate and needy babbles falling from his parted lips like an endless waterfall of praises, just for you.  

“Feels so good, Javi. So fucking good.” 

Your cocky facade is beginning to fade, eyes scrunched shut in focus with every thrust up and down his length. It hasn’t taken him long to recognize the expression now plastered across your face- Javi knows it’s the reflex that tells him you’re close, that it won’t be much longer until you’re clamping down around his cock, the sound of his name hitching in the back of your throat as you cum. 

Your once methodical rhythm has transformed into something fiercely frantic, arching your back so that you can reach behind and brace yourself on his thighs, fingertips digging deep half moons into his skin. 

He’s too all consumed to do anything but watch, to take in the beauty that radiates off of every part of you straddled across his lap. 

He relishes in the melodic symphony of your moans, muffled and mixed with expletives between heavy breaths, lost in the soft sheen of sweat glistening over your skin, shimmering from the way you’ve all but conquered him, hips grinding down on him, taking all of him over and over. 

There’s a selfish war raging in his head amidst his mesmerization- One side wishing he could stay like this forever, keep you perched over his lower half, cock stuffed inside you until your bodies give out. The other prays you cum sooner rather than later- He won’t until you do, and lord knows it’s taking every ounce of self restraint he has left to make sure that happens. 

Fuck, maybe you really are trying to kill him. 

“Oh f-fuck- Fuck, I’m close, Javi.” You whimper, your grip around his thighs growing impossibly tighter as you furrow your brow in focus, not daring to let your pace falter, not when you’ve found the spot where the head of his cock fits perfectly inside you. 

“Use me, baby. Fuck- use me, pretty girl.” 

It’s not much longer until you’ve reached your peak, feeling the way you tighten around him as you soak his length with your slick, the once steady rhythm of your hips faltering as you cum. 

Your head thrusts back, chest heaving as you cry out his name, over and over, a sound he swears he’ll never tire of as long as he’s alive to hear it. Because when it falls from your lips, it stirs something so deep inside him, knowing he’s the reason you feel this way. 

That you’re his. 

There’s only moments until Javi’s following suit, fingers buried in the soft dips of your hips as he takes one final thrust, moaning into the crook of your neck while he cums, letting your pussy milk him of everything he has to give. 

The two of you have become a hot, sweaty mess of limbs, melting into each other’s bodies, unsure of where one starts and the other ends. But even with your head rested against his shoulder, he can feel the way your cheeks tense to house the smile spread between your lips. It’s only then he recognizes the same strain in his face, the subtle smirk he can’t seem to shake whenever he’s with you. 

It’s also then he realizes, as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to. 

“What’s that grin for?” You tease, sitting up to plant gentle kisses on his cheeks, brushing away the dark curls dangling over his forehead. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

“Well, good thing I feel the same then, huh?” 

Both your smiles stretch wider as he cups your jaw in his palm, his hand just big enough to let the ends of his fingers wrap around the back of your head, pulling your mouth to his, letting your lips lock for a moment before you break away. 

“Thanks for the ride, cowboy.” 

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[reidmarieprentiss]

Don't Get In Your Own Way

Summary: You and Spencer have always been close - everyone else can see it's more than just friendship. When will you two be ready to see it as well?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, light smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, suggestive content, friends to lovers, minimal BAU case talk, mild public indecency

Word count: 10.3k

a/n: this was an olddd draft ,,, i came back to give it the ol' razzle dazzle

main masterlist

Every afternoon, like clockwork, you and Spencer retreat to the stairs outside the FBI offices, your little quiet corner away from the noise of the bullpen. The team is usually scattered—some opting for takeout at their desks, others heading out for a bite—but you and Spencer? You prefer the fresh air, the slight reprieve from case files and fluorescent lights, just the two of you.

Spencer talks—a lot. And you let him. You never interrupt when he goes off on a tangent, whether about a book he’s been reading, some obscure historical event, or even the latest behavioral theory he’s been mulling over. He’s learned, over time, that you listen—that you don’t just humor him but engage, ask questions, challenge him. It’s one of the reasons he feels safest around you, why he lets the mask slip, why he doesn’t feel the need to filter himself. Around you, he’s just Spencer. Not Dr. Reid, not the genius of the BAU. He's just a guy who loves sharing the things that make his brain light up.

Lately, he’s been growing his hair, letting the waves fall into his face while he works. He never noticed how often he pushed it back, but you did. One afternoon, after watching him shove it out of his eyes for the hundredth time while struggling through paperwork, you wordlessly slid a hair tie onto his wrist.

“For when you finally give up,” you’d said with a small smile.

Spencer had looked at the simple black band like it was some kind of sacred object before slipping it on. He never did tie his hair up, but the band stayed. Now, when he’s anxious, when his thoughts spiral too fast for even him to keep up, he rolls it between his fingers, snaps it lightly against his skin, and uses it as an anchor. He wonders if you even realize what you’ve given him and how something so small makes him feel grounded.

You are completely unaware of how much Spencer sees you and how much he feels for you. You like him—more than you should, more than is probably appropriate for two people who are just friends—but you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. Spencer is brilliant and kind and so effortlessly attractive, and you? You convince yourself he’d never see you that way. It’s not self-deprecating, not really—just… reality.

Meanwhile, Spencer sits beside you every day, wondering how you don’t notice how his eyes linger, how his heart jumps every time you laugh, and how he holds onto your hair tie like a lifeline. How he wonders if you feel the same way.

—

Derek doesn’t let up. Not now, not ever.

Spencer’s been subjected to his relentless teasing for years, but ever since he started growing his hair out—and ever since you gave him that hair tie—Derek has been on a mission.

“Pretty Boy, you’re pathetic,” Derek says one afternoon, leaning against Spencer’s desk with his arms crossed, watching him roll the hair tie between his fingers like it’s some kind of lifeline.

Spencer, who has been deep in thought, barely looks up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Derek scoffs. “The hair tie? The way you light up every time she talks to you? The fact that you, the man who hates all forms of physical contact, don’t even flinch when she gets in your space? Do you even hear yourself when you talk about her?”

Spencer blinks at him, feigning ignorance. “I talk about her the same way I talk about all of my friends.”

Derek lets out a loud, incredulous laugh. “That’s funny. Real funny. Because I don’t remember you getting all flustered and dreamy-eyed when you talk about me.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “I don’t get flustered.”

Derek raises a brow and mimics Spencer in a high-pitched, breathy voice. “Oh, she listens to me ramble. She actually engages with me. She’s so perceptive.” He drops the act, shaking his head. “Man, you are down bad.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and turns back to his book, a weak defense mechanism. “I really don’t think—”

“No, you don’t think,” Derek interrupts. “That’s the problem. Because if you were thinking, you’d realize that she looks at you the same way you look at her.”

That makes Spencer freeze, a book halfway in his hands.

Derek smirks, knowing he’s struck something deep. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Spencer opens his mouth, ready to protest and argue some logical counterpoint, but nothing comes out. He can’t explain away the way his heart clenches at the mere possibility that you might feel the same.

Derek slaps a hand on his shoulder, grin widening. “Any day now, Pretty Boy. Any day now.” Then he walks off, leaving Spencer to stare blankly at his book, brain absolutely wrecked.

He glances down at the hair tie around his wrist, suddenly hyper-aware of the way it sits against his skin.

Rossi is just as relentless with you as Derek is with Spencer—except he’s a little more subtle about it. He doesn’t tease in the same playful, in-your-face way that Derek does with Spencer. No, Rossi prefers to plant little seeds, make small comments, and give you just enough to get your mind churning.

He’s been keeping a close eye on you ever since you joined the team. Maybe it’s the way you love to talk about home or how you light up when someone treats you like family. So, naturally, Rossi steps in. A guiding hand, an occasional piece of advice, a warm presence when you need one.

And right now? Right now, you need someone to tell you that you’re being blind as hell.

“You know, bella, I’ve been around a long time,” Rossi says one afternoon, leaning back in his chair, swirling a glass of bourbon in his hand. “I’ve seen a lot of things. A lot of things. And I’d like to think I have a pretty good read on people.”

You barely look up from your case file. “Are you about to say something wise or just something annoying?”

He smirks. “Oh, I can do both.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue.

Rossi takes a sip of his drink, watching you with that knowing look that makes you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. “You like him, you know.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, but you don’t react. Not outwardly, at least. “Who?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You’re smarter than that.”

You exhale sharply, still keeping your eyes on your paperwork. “I don’t like Spencer.”

Rossi chuckles, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “That’s cute. Now say it again like you mean it.”

You finally glance up at him, narrowing your eyes. “I mean it.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rossi hums, clearly unconvinced. He leans forward, resting his arms on his desk. “You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger.”

You raise a brow. “Oh? You had a thing for Spencer, too?”

Rossi lets out a full-bodied laugh. “No, but I was stubborn. And I was good at convincing myself that things weren’t what they obviously were.” He tilts his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Let me ask you something. If I told you that Spencer thinks the world of you, that he practically glows when you’re around, what would you say?”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of your heartbeat. “I’d say you’re exaggerating.”

Rossi shakes his head. “No, bella, I’m not. Derek sees it. I see it. Hell, even Garcia sees it, and she’s usually too busy matchmaking herself to notice when something’s right under her nose.” He leans back again, watching you carefully. “But the real question is—why don’t you see it?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. The truth? Because the idea that Spencer could feel that way about you is terrifying. You’ve convinced yourself he wouldn’t, couldn’t, not in the way you secretly hope.

So you deflect. “Spencer’s just… Spencer. He’s sweet to everyone.”

Rossi sighs, shaking his head with something like fond exasperation. “You keep telling yourself that, kid. But one of these days, you’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time.”

You scoff lightly. “What, you want me to march over there and declare my undying love?”

Rossi grins. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

You shake your head, muttering something about meddling old men as you shove your paperwork into a neat stack, trying to ignore the way your hands feel slightly unsteady.

Rossi just watches you, amusement still lingering on his face.

Because he knows.

And one day, you’ll know, too.

—

The precinct is buzzing with too much movement and too much noise. Officers shuffling papers, detectives arguing over case details, coffee machines gurgling, the fluorescent lights humming like an irritating static in the back of your head. It’s a small station, cramped, and the team has been forced into an even smaller conference room, shoulder to shoulder with local law enforcement.

Spencer has been quiet all morning, his fingers twitching slightly, his blinking a little too frequently. You’ve been with him long enough to notice when the world is becoming too much for him, and right now, it’s clear that the rapid-fire conversations, the overlapping voices, the smell of burnt coffee and cheap air freshener—it's all pushing him to the edge of his tolerance.

So, as usual, he attaches himself to you.

It’s something he’s done for years, seeking you out when things get overwhelming. You’ve never minded. In fact, you never even thought much of it—until now.

Right now, his head is slumped against your shoulder, a deep sigh escaping him, his breath warm where it ghosts over the fabric of your shirt. His long fingers loosely clutch your jacket sleeve, not in an obvious way, but just enough that you know he’s anchoring himself with your presence. His entire frame is pressed slightly against your side, fitting into your space in a way that should feel intrusive—but it doesn’t. It never does.

But today? Today, it does feel different. Not bad, not at all, just... noticeable.

The warmth of his body against yours. The way his hair brushes your cheek when he shifts. The way you can feel the weight of him, trusting, unguarded.

You should say something—acknowledge it, maybe even tease him like Derek would—but your throat feels tight. Instead, you sit perfectly still, let him rest, let him take what he needs from you.

Across the room, Rossi is watching. He doesn’t say a word, just gives you a knowing look, an almost smirk, before turning back to his conversation with Hotch.

You swallow hard, your mind racing with thoughts you don’t have time to entertain. Not right now. Not with a case on the line.

Spencer exhales again, a deep, exhausted sound. Without thinking, you lift your hand and gently brush it over his arm, a quiet reassurance. He hums in response—barely audible, but enough to let you know he appreciates it.

And you?

You pretend your pulse isn’t hammering; pretend this is just like every other time.

Even though, for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way anymore.

—

The room is already cold and sterile, the air thick with the lingering scent of antiseptic and something darker, something that clings to the walls of places like these—death, decay, the remnants of lives cut short. The mortuary is dimly lit, the fluorescent bulbs casting a bluish hue over the metal slabs, the bodies covered with crisp white sheets.

Spencer and Emily step inside, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them away from the world of the living for just a little while.

Emily exhales, rubbing her hands together despite the temperature-controlled environment. “I don’t know what Hotch thinks we’re going to find that we didn’t already see,” she murmurs, but there’s no real complaint in her tone—just exhaustion.

Spencer doesn’t answer right away. He’s already moving, scanning the room with sharp, restless eyes. He doesn’t like being back here. Too quiet, too still. Too much time to think. And he’s already spent the morning overstimulated, barely hanging onto himself. If it weren’t for you—your presence, your steadying warmth—he might have lost his grip entirely.

But you’re not here now.

Emily watches him for a moment, sees the way his fingers twitch slightly, how he pushes his hair back only to drop his hand to his wrist, rolling the familiar hair tie between his fingers. A grounding mechanism. She’d seen him do it before.

“Spencer,” she calls gently.

He blinks and looks at her.

“You okay?”

He hesitates, then nods.

Back in the SUV, Emily watches Spencer out of the corner of her eye as he flips through the case file, his knee bouncing slightly, his fingers twitching against the edge of the folder. He’s rattling off statistics about the likelihood of unsub behavior escalating post-mortem examinations, but there’s a certain absentmindedness to the way he’s speaking—like he’s not entirely here.

And Emily Prentiss? She’s no fool.

So, as she turns onto the road leading toward the mortuary, she decides to go for it.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she starts, keeping her tone casual. “In fact, I haven’t for the past few years.” She glances at him and watches as his fingers tighten slightly on the folder. “But today felt different. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Spencer stills, his knee stopping mid-bounce before he forces it back down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Emily snorts. “Oh, come on. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that.”

Spencer purses his lips, shifting in his seat like he’s trying to physically move away from this conversation. “We have more important things to focus on right now.”

“Uh-huh,” Emily hums. “And yet, back at the station, you looked about one deep sigh away from crawling into her lap.”

Spencer stiffens. “That’s an exaggeration.”

Emily shrugs, smirking slightly. “Is it? Because from where I was standing, you were practically molded to her side.”

Spencer stays silent, glaring down at the folder like it’s personally offended him.

Emily softens, tilting her head. “Look, I’m not teasing you. I’m just asking—are you okay? Because I’ve seen you cling to her before when things get overwhelming, but today… it was different.” She hesitates. “You were different. She was different.”

Spencer swallows, pressing his lips together. He could brush it off. He could easily throw out some logical, cold dismissal. I was overstimulated, and she provided a familiar presence. There is nothing unusual about that, but the problem is, it is unusual.

Because for the first time, he noticed it.

Noticed how natural it felt, how good it felt, to be pressed against you. Noticed the way your touch lingered, how your fingers brushed his arm with a softness that made his skin buzz. Noticed how he felt safe, not just because you were familiar, but because he wanted to be close to you. Because he liked it.

And that? That realization is unraveling something in him he isn’t sure he’s ready for.

“I—” He hesitates, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

Emily watches him for a moment before nodding, letting the conversation settle for a few beats before she speaks again.

“You know,” she says, keeping her tone light. “You could always ask her.”

Spencer’s head snaps toward her, eyes wide, panicked. “Ask her what?”

Emily grins, eyes twinkling as she pulls into the mortuary parking lot.

“Oh, you know. On a date.”

Spencer makes a strangled noise of protest, but Emily is already unbuckling her seatbelt, pretending she doesn’t hear it.

She lets him stew in his thoughts and sit there with that panicked expression because honestly?

He needs to figure it out for himself.

—

Tuesday nights were for Star Trek, and Friday nights were for pizza and movies. It had started as something casual, a way to unwind after long days at work, but over time, it became an unspoken rule—a part of your week as consistent as waking up in the morning.

Tuesday nights meant curling up on your couch, debating over which Star Trek series to watch that week. Spencer always had his preferences—he loved The Original Series for its groundbreaking storytelling and The Next Generation for its philosophical depth—but he never protested when you picked Voyager because he knew how much you liked Captain Janeway. You didn’t always pay attention to the episodes the way he did, but you loved listening to him ramble, watching his eyes light up as he dissected the scientific inaccuracies or argued about the moral dilemmas presented in each episode.

And then there was Friday night—pizza and movie night.

Unlike Star Trek night, where Spencer usually held the reins, movie night was a battle. You had vastly different tastes—Spencer leaned toward old classics, noir films, and things with intricate plots that required full intellectual engagement. On the other hand, you sometimes just wanted to watch an over-the-top action flick, something fun and ridiculous.

“I don’t understand why we can’t watch Casablanca,” Spencer had complained one Friday, frowning at your choice of Die Hard.

“Because Casablanca is depressing, and I just want to watch Bruce Willis blow things up,” you’d argued, plopping onto the couch.

Spencer had grumbled but ultimately stayed, reluctantly eating his pizza while you enjoyed Die Hard a little too much.

But despite the friendly bickering, you both always showed up for each other. No matter how draining the week was or how heavy the cases got, Tuesday and Friday nights were yours. If one of you was too tired, the other brought food. If Spencer needed to visit his mom, he’d make you promise not to watch Star Trek without him. If you had a bad day, he let you pick the movie without a single complaint (except for that one time you picked Twilight, which he still refuses to acknowledge).

For years, it was just routine, something comfortable, something easy.

The case had finally wrapped up late Wednesday afternoon, and while you should have been relieved—grateful that everything ended as cleanly as possible—you were distracted. Off-kilter. Your mind wasn’t on the debriefing, the flight back to Quantico, or even the pile of paperwork waiting for you tomorrow.

No, your mind was stuck on him.

Spencer.

More specifically, the way you couldn’t seem to shake the lingering warmth of his body from when he had leaned against you, or the quiet, vulnerable way he had sighed into your shoulder, or the way Rossi’s words had wormed their way into your brain and stuck.

"You keep telling yourself that, kid. But one of these days, you’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time."

Damn him.

You were usually so good at compartmentalizing, at keeping your feelings neatly boxed up and shoved into the farthest corner of your mind where they couldn’t betray you. But now? Now, every little thing Spencer did had you spiraling.

Like right now.

Friday afternoon rolls around, and you’re already on edge.

When Spencer casually walks up to your desk, his messenger bag is slung over his shoulder, and his hands are tucked into his pockets, you already know you’re in trouble.

“Hey,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

You blink at him.

Wait. What?

Is he confirming plans? He hasn’t done that since the first month you started doing this—since he was still unsure if the ritual was set in stone. But now, after all this time, he’s asking?

Your heart starts hammering, palms go clammy.

“Yeah—yes,” you blurt out, nodding a little too fast. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”

Spencer watches you carefully, clearly picking up on something being off. His brow furrows slightly, and he studies you with that damn profiler gaze, the one that makes you feel like he’s reading every single thought you’re desperately trying to bury.

“You okay?” he asks slowly.

You force a laugh. It comes out weird. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

His frown deepens.

Okay. You need to fix this before you combust.

You grab your phone off your desk and clear your throat. “So! What are we watching tonight?” you ask, trying to force the conversation forward before you completely unravel.

Spencer tilts his head slightly, still watching you with suspicion, but he lets it go.

“For our movie night? Or are you asking if we’re switching to a Star Trek episode lineup for some reason?”

You roll your eyes, grateful for the distraction. “Movie night, obviously.”

He hums, his lips quirking slightly. “I figured it was my turn to pick.”

You groan dramatically. “Ugh. If this is another silent foreign film that you claim is ‘captivating,’ I’m kicking you out before the pizza even gets here.”

Spencer smirks. “It’s not silent.”

You narrow your eyes. “But it is foreign.”

Spencer just shrugs.

You groan again, shaking your head. “Fine. But if I fall asleep, I’m blaming you.”

He grins, and for a moment, just a moment, everything feels normal again.

Except it’s not.

Because now you’re noticing everything. The way he’s smiling at you, like he genuinely likes looking at you. The way he’s still standing a little too close, the scent of cologne you’ve never noticed mixing with the faint smell of old books and coffee. Your heart is pounding, not from panic anymore but from something else.

And Rossi’s voice echoes in your head—You’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to push the thought away.

Spencer is still looking at you, waiting, expectant.

You clear your throat. “So… my place at seven?”

He nods. “Your place at seven.”

And with that, he walks away, leaving you gripping your desk, trying to convince yourself that your entire world hasn’t just shifted on its axis.

—

The knock at the door makes your stomach drop.

You weren’t expecting it. Not from him.

Spencer never knocks. Not anymore. Not when he’s been coming here for years, slipping inside without hesitation, using the key you gave him so long ago that neither of you even remembers when it stopped being your apartment and started feeling like his, too.

But tonight, he knocks.

And for a moment, you just stare at the door, pulse pounding in your ears, a strange, unsettling panic twisting in your chest.

Why?

Why would he knock?

Did something happen? Did you do something? Did he?

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over the corner of the rug in your rush to reach the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob for half a second too long before you finally pull it open.

And there he is.

Standing in the dim glow of the hallway light, looking just as nervous as you feel.

He’s holding the pizza in both hands, gripping the box like it’s the only thing anchoring him. His lips are parted slightly as if he’s mid-thought, mid-explanation for why he’s standing here like a stranger instead of walking in like he always does.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is careful, deliberate. Like he’s testing the temperature of the air between you.

You swallow. “Why’d you knock?”

Spencer shifts, his fingers flexing against the cardboard. “I—” He exhales sharply, eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I wasn’t sure if I should just—if you wanted me to just come in.”

Your stomach twists. “You always just come in.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I just—” He stops, swallows, tries again. Spencer takes a breath, shifting his grip on the pizza box. “Can I come in?”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the doorknob as you nod and step aside.

The warm glow of your living room wraps around Spencer like a familiar embrace. The scent of old books and candle wax lingers in the air, mingling with the rich aroma of fresh pizza. He’s holding the box carefully as if it were fragile or important. His fingers clutch the edges a little too tightly.

Something is different.

You feel it the moment he walks through the door, the way he hesitates on the threshold before closing it behind him. His usual easy presence is replaced with something unsure, something heavy that neither of you can quite name.

It’s never been awkward before.

But tonight, it is.

Maybe it’s the way he swallows before speaking or the way you feel hyper-aware of the space between you—space that’s usually nonexistent when you’re tangled up on the couch, watching whatever movie you finally agreed on after bickering for twenty minutes.

Maybe it’s the way his fingers brush against his wrist absentmindedly, rolling the hair tie between them, a habit you know means he’s feeling too much.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because something unspoken has been hanging in the air between you for a while now, something neither of you have dared to name.

Spencer sits down beside you, a little closer than usual but still not quite enough. His knee brushes against yours, and you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

“Movie?” you ask, trying to sound normal. Trying to push through the tension.

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t reach for the remote. Instead, he glances at you, searching your face, lips parting slightly like he wants to say something.

And for the first time in all the years of Friday pizza-and-movie nights, for the first time in all the comfortable silences and easy laughter, you think—

He might actually say what you’re both thinking.

But when Spencer finally does speak, it’s not what you expect. You blink at him, your brain short-circuiting.

"Do you want to watch 10 Things I Hate About You?"

It takes you a second to process the words because that is not what you were expecting.

For a moment, your grip tightens on the edge of the couch, your knuckles going white, and your heart still hammering from the sheer weight of what you thought he was about to say.

“What?” you finally spit out, voice higher than you’d like.

Spencer shifts awkwardly in his seat, clearing his throat as if he’s just realized how strange the moment is. “It’s… isn’t it your favorite rom-com?”

You stare at him. “Yeah… but I didn’t think you liked it.”

“I don’t dislike it,” he hedges, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “And, statistically speaking, if we’re ranking romantic comedies based on their adherence to Shakespearean influence, it’s arguably one of the better adaptations of Taming of the Shrew—”

You cut him off with a squint. “You’re rambling.”

He presses his lips together, a nervous habit, his fingers twitching slightly. “Right. Sorry.”

The air between you feels charged, like an unsaid truth is pressing against the walls, threatening to break them down. But instead of confronting it and saying whatever it is that’s clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue, Spencer is talking about rom-coms.

You cross your arms, tilting your head. “Okay, but… why? Why that movie? Why now?”

His eyes flicker up to yours then, just for a second, and there’s something raw, vulnerable, and uncertain.

And then, before you can decipher it, he shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Your heart clenches painfully because God, he’s so Spencer. Always thinking of you, noticing the smallest details, and looking out for you even when you don’t expect it.

And yet… there’s still something unspoken lingering between you, something simmering beneath the surface, something that almost came out before he took a sharp left turn into the world of 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Do you want to watch?” Spencer asks again in that vulnerable tone, lifting the movie case from his bag.

You exhale, rubbing your hands on your pants to wipe off the nervous sweat. “Yeah,” you sigh.

Spencer nods, but it’s almost hesitant, almost like he wasn’t sure you’d say yes. He lingers for a second with the 10 Things I Hate About You DVD case in his hands, gripping it just as tightly as he had the pizza box moments ago.

You swallow, rubbing your palms against your pants again before reaching for the remote. “Uh, you can put it in.”

He moves toward the DVD player slowly, methodically, like he’s focusing on the action so he doesn’t have to focus on you. You watch him as he kneels down, sliding the disc into the tray, his fingers steady even though you know he isn’t.

The air between you is thick with something unspoken, a weight pressing on both of you, but neither of you acknowledges it. Instead, you wait as the movie boots up, the familiar menu music filling the quiet space between you.

Spencer hesitates before sitting, but it’s closer than usual when he does.

Not overly close—not close enough to make it obvious—but close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, close enough that his knee brushes yours again.

You pretend not to notice.

He pretends not to, either.

The movie starts, and for the first time, neither of you is watching it.

You’re too aware of him—the way he shifts slightly when you do, his fingers twitch against his knee like he’s trying not to reach out, and the way his breath catches ever so slightly when your arm brushes his.

Spencer doesn’t usually do this. He’s tactile when he’s overwhelmed, yes, but this? This is different. This is hesitation; this is awareness; this is something tiptoeing dangerously close to the edge of something neither of you has dared to touch before.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

So you try to focus on the movie, try to push through the nervous energy coiling in your stomach.

But then—

Then Spencer shifts, leans back against the couch, exhales softly—

And his arm drops, just slightly, around your shoulders.

Your heart stops.

You stare at the screen, unblinking, unsure if he even realizes what he’s done.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

The room feels different now. Warmer, heavier, charged with something neither of you have spoken aloud. You can’t tell if it’s the candlelight flickering in the dim space or if it’s just him, just this, whatever this is, settling around you like a second skin.

Spencer’s arm—his arm—is resting along the back of the couch, not quite on you, but close enough that you can feel its weight, close enough that if you shifted even the slightest bit, it would be.

You try to focus on the movie. Try to act like nothing’s changed.

But your body betrays you.

Your shoulders stiffen at first, instinctively, not because you don’t want this—God, you do—but because you don’t understand it. Because Spencer Reid does not do things like this. He does not reach out in this way, not unless he’s overwhelmed, and even then, it’s different. This is intentional, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

You inhale slowly, carefully, keeping your eyes trained on the screen as Kat Stratford delivers another sharp-witted insult. But you’re not really listening. You’re waiting. Waiting for Spencer to shift, realize what he’s done, pull back, laugh nervously, and pretend like nothing happened.

Except—

He doesn’t.

If anything, he seems more relaxed than before. His breathing is even, his body settling into the couch like he belongs there. Like you belong there.

And then, before you can stop yourself before you can overthink it like you always do, you shift. Just slightly. Just enough that your shoulder leans into his arm.

The movement is so small and insignificant that if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t notice. But this is Spencer. And Spencer notices everything.

You hear the sharp inhale of breath and feel the way his body tenses just for a moment—just long enough to make your pulse hammer against your ribs—before he exhales slowly, deliberately.

And then—

Then his fingers brush against your shoulder.

A whisper of a touch, hesitant, almost like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

So, he stays.

And for the rest of the movie, neither of you moves. Neither of you speak.

But everything, everything, has changed.

The credits roll. The music swells softly through the speakers. The dim glow of the screencasts flickering shadows across the room, but neither of you move.

Not even a little.

Your body is still pressed into his side, your shoulder tucked against him, his arm draped so loosely yet so deliberately around you that you can’t tell if it’s keeping you close or if it’s keeping him grounded.

Maybe both.

Maybe that’s what this has always been.

You don’t know how long you sit there, frozen in the moment. You don’t know if he’s thinking the same thing, if he’s waiting for you to speak, to move, to acknowledge that something unspoken has settled between you like a weighted silence.

But then—

“Y/N,” Spencer murmurs.

Just your name.

Soft. Almost careful.

You inhale sharply, blinking yourself back into the moment. Your head turns toward him slowly, cautiously, like moving too fast might shatter whatever fragile balance is hanging between you.

And then—

Spencer shocks you.

Because the second your eyes meet his, the moment your lips part in silent question—he leans in.

And he kisses you.

It’s not hesitant.

It’s not unsure.

It’s not like the Spencer Reid you thought you knew—the one who second-guesses, who overthinks, who analyzes every possibility before making a move.

No.

This is something else entirely.

This is Spencer moving without logic, without calculation, without fear.

This is Spencer wanting.

And for a split second, your brain short-circuits, unable to process what’s happening or understand how the man who had just spent two hours analyzing 10 Things I Hate About You is now kissing you like he means it.

But then—

Then you kiss him back.

And it’s over.

Whatever line had existed between you—whatever barrier had kept you from stepping over the edge—it's gone.

Spencer exhales against your lips like he’s been holding his breath for years. His fingers tighten against your shoulder, just slightly, pulling you in closer, pressing against you like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

But you’re not going anywhere.

Not now.

Not after this.

—

Dating Spencer is like stepping into something timeless, warm, and constant. It’s not rushed or overwhelming. It’s not dramatic or chaotic. It’s just Spencer. And that, in itself, is everything.

He doesn’t love convention. He doesn’t do big grand gestures unless they mean something. But he does the little things, the things that matter. The things that show how deeply and irrevocably he feels for you.

Like reading to you before bed.

It starts without much thought, just a quiet habit that becomes part of your nights. You never ask him to do it, and he never makes a point of it, but it happens—night after night, in the soft, dark quiet of your bedroom when the world slows, and nothing exists but the warmth of his arms and the soothing rhythm of his voice.

Some nights, it’s The Picture of Dorian Gray or a few pages from Pride and Prejudice. Other nights, it’s something entirely different—a passage about an old poet, a historical retelling of an artist’s life, something obscure and worn, a book he’s read a hundred times before. It doesn’t matter. You don’t even remember the contents most nights.

What you remember is the sound of Spencer’s voice, the way it lulls you into a hazy, comfortable state within minutes. The way his fingers draw lazy circles on your arm as he reads, absentmindedly tracing patterns like he can’t not be touching you. The way his lips brush the top of your head in soft, feather-light kisses like he’s saying goodnight without ever actually stopping the words on the page.

You never make it past a few minutes.

That’s how long it takes for his voice to pull you under, for the warmth of his chest to turn into a lullaby, for his steady breathing and gentle presence to quiet every thought in your mind.

And Spencer?

Spencer never minds.

Even when you fall asleep on him mid-sentence, even when his voice trails off and he realizes you’re gone, lost to dreams, he just smiles to himself, presses one last kiss to your temple, and quietly closes the book.

Because he loves this.

Loves you.

Even if he hasn’t said it yet.

—

You knew Spencer was good with kids—he had an innate gentleness, a patience that most adults didn’t possess. You had seen him with Jack before, seen the way he could calm a crying toddler with a few soft words and a fascinating fact about dinosaurs. But this? Watching him take care of a baby?

This is a whole different level.

JJ and Will had been desperate for a night out—just a few hours, nothing crazy—and with Garcia tied up at some tech conference, JJ hesitantly asked you and Spencer to watch Henry. She had barely finished asking before Spencer nodded, assuring her that he had plenty of experience with child development and cognitive growth.

Now, an hour into babysitting, you sit on the couch in quiet awe as Spencer moves around the living room, cradling Henry against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Statistically speaking, infants exposed to language early on are more likely to develop higher literacy skills in adolescence," Spencer muses softly, bouncing Henry gently in his arms as the baby babbles against his sweater. "So even though you might not understand this now, Henry, I think you'd really enjoy learning about the Fibonacci sequence when you’re older."

You stare, biting your lip to contain the ridiculous grin threatening to take over your face. "Spencer, are you seriously lecturing a one-year-old on mathematical sequences?"

Spencer glances at you, unfazed. "He seems interested."

Henry lets out a delighted squeal, gripping a fistful of Spencer’s cardigan and yanking with surprising strength.

"Ah—Henry, no, that's my—" Spencer stops mid-sentence as Henry starts giggling, his tiny fingers still tangled in the fabric. Instead of pulling away, Spencer just sighs in resignation, adjusting his hold so Henry can comfortably rest his cheek against his shoulder.

And oh, no.

Your heart is gone.

Your ovaries? Destroyed.

Because Spencer—sweet, brilliant, slightly awkward Spencer—is standing there in JJ’s living room, holding a baby like he was made for it, rubbing gentle circles on Henry’s back as he hums absentmindedly.

And you are not okay.

"You’re good at this," you murmur before you can stop yourself, watching how he instinctively shifts to sway Henry slightly, lulling him between sleep and contentment.

Spencer shrugs, but there’s a soft pink dusting his cheeks. "It’s just… knowing how to respond to their needs. Babies need security and reassurance. If they feel safe, they thrive." He glances at you then, his voice quieter. "It's not complicated."

But it is.

Because suddenly, your brain is not thinking about just this night. It’s not just thinking about babysitting Henry. It’s thinking about Spencer as a father, Spencer with his own baby in his arms, rocking them just like this, whispering facts to lull them to sleep, pressing soft kisses to their tiny forehead.

And the thought wrecks you.

JJ has no idea what she’s done by asking you to babysit.

Because now?

Now, you are painfully aware that Spencer Reid would be the best dad in the world.

And you really need to go splash cold water on your face before you say something insane.

The drive is quiet at first, a comfortable kind of silence, filled only with the hum of the engine and the faint rustling of Spencer shifting beside you. The weight of the night still lingers, the softness of it, the warmth—Spencer holding Henry, the easy way he’d cared for him, the way it had done things to you that you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to name yet.

"Are you dropping me off," Spencer asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness, "or am I coming over?"

Your hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel.

The question is simple. Straightforward. But there’s something deeper beneath it, something unspoken. Because this isn’t the first time Spencer has stayed over. But tonight, with the way you’re feeling, with the way you want him—really want him—the meaning feels different.

Your pulse picks up.

You don’t answer right away, not because you don’t know what you want, but because you do.

Because you want him to come over. Because you want him in your bed for more than just resting. Because you’ve wanted it for a while now, but neither of you have crossed that line yet.

And suddenly, it feels like Spencer knows exactly what you’re thinking.

He’s watching you, quiet, observant, his fingers resting lightly against his knee as he waits for your response. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pry—he just waits.

You swallow, exhaling slowly before finally speaking. "Come over."

Spencer doesn’t say anything at first. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his lips are pressed together, his fingers twitching slightly—nervous energy, anticipation, something else.

"Okay," he says finally, voice quiet but firm.

And that’s all.

You don’t talk for the rest of the drive.

But you feel everything.

The way his hand rests between you is so close to yours but not quite touching. The way your breaths sync up is slow but uneven, charged with something you both know is coming.

When you finally pull into your parking spot, turn off the car, and steal one last glance at him, Spencer doesn’t hesitate.

He just unbuckles his seatbelt, pushes open the door, and follows you inside.

Spencer follows without hesitation but doesn’t move past the doorway immediately. He lingers, standing just inside your apartment, watching as you set your keys down on the counter, as you exhale slowly, as you try to steady yourself against the weight of what this night is turning into.

You turn back to him then, and the sight of him standing there—hands tucked into his pockets, shifting slightly on his feet, looking at you like he’s trying so hard to figure out what happens next—makes your stomach flip.

He’s waiting for you.

Waiting for permission.

You take a step forward, closing some of the space between you. Spencer watches you carefully, his breath hitching just slightly, his fingers twitching where they rest at his sides.

Spencer nods. Swallows. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he asks, “Are we just sleeping?”

The question hangs between you, thick with implication, and that’s when it happens—the shift from nervous anticipation to something else.

You step closer again, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough that if either of you moved just slightly, you’d be touching.

And then, softly, hesitantly, you reach for his wrist, fingers brushing against the skin just above the hair tie he still wears, the one you gave him so long ago.

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want to just sleep?”

Spencer’s breath catches. His eyes flicker to your lips, then back up again.

“No,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

And that’s all it takes.

Because suddenly, you’re kissing him.

Or maybe he kisses you—you don’t know who moves first, don’t care, because all that matters is the way his hands are suddenly on your waist, pulling you closer, the way his lips part against yours, slow and deep and wanting.

It’s different from the previous kisses you have shared. And as his hands slide up your back, as you press yourself into him like you’ve been waiting forever for this, as he exhales sharply against your mouth because he’s finally getting to have you—

You know neither of you will be getting much sleep tonight.

The first time you and Spencer had sex was nothing short of mind-blowing—at least for him.

You hadn’t known just how little experience he had until later when he mumbled something against your skin about only having done this once before, his voice laced with disbelief and something like awe.

But it wouldn't have changed anything even if you had known beforehand. It had started so slow, like neither of you wanted to rush like you were both trying to memorize each other in ways you hadn’t been able to before.

Spencer had been nervous at first—not clumsy, not hesitant in a way that made you think he didn’t want this, but careful, intentional, like he wanted to make sure he was doing everything right. Like he was terrified of messing up, of not being enough.

But God, was he more than enough.

Because once he got past the nerves, once he stopped thinking and started feeling—

It was everything.

He touched you like he was discovering something new like he was learning you in real time. His fingers mapped the soft curves of your body, memorizing the way your breath hitched when he kissed your neck and how you sighed when his hands gripped your waist.

And when you guided him, when you whispered what you liked against his lips when you told him exactly how to move—

That was when he really fell apart.

Because Spencer thrives on knowledge, learning, on understanding. And now, he was learning you—learning what made you shiver, what made you moan, what made you clutch at his shoulders and gasp his name in a way that sent a shudder through him so deep he thought he might break apart completely.

By the time you were actually together, when he finally slid inside you with a deep, shaky moan, his hands gripping your hips like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—he knew.

He knew he was ruined for anything else.

Because nothing—not the one experience he had before, not the books he had read, not the theories or statistics—could have ever prepared him for this.

For you.

And when he came undone, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and ragged, your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer—

It was the closest thing to heaven he had ever known.

You pulled Spencer on top of you without hesitation, letting his exhausted body flop onto yours, his full weight pressing you into the mattress in the best possible way. He didn’t resist or try to roll away or give you space—he just let himself be and melt into you like he belonged there.

You traced slow, lazy shapes on his bare, sweat-slicked back, feeling the way his breathing gradually evened out, the rise and fall of his chest pressing against yours in a steady rhythm. His damp curls tickled your skin where his face was buried against your neck, but you didn’t dare move. You liked having him close like this.

Then you felt it—Spencer taking a deep breath like he was about to say something important.

His voice was muffled, soft, still laced with lingering wonder as he exhaled against your skin.

“Did… was that good for you?”

You smiled at the ceiling, your fingers still tracing mindless patterns along his spine. He was too cute. Too him.

“It was amazing, Spencer.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him tense slightly, his arms tightening around your waist as he let out a small, almost sheepish exhale.

“I’m sorry it was over so quickly.”

You laughed, tilting your head so you could press a soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Spencer, you have nothing to apologize for.”

He huffed, shifting slightly so his face was visible again, his flushed cheeks still pressed against your skin. “But I—”

“Nope.” You cut him off before he could finish whatever self-deprecating thought was about to leave his mouth. “I loved it. And besides…” You trailed your fingers down his spine, feeling the shiver it sent through him. “Now that the nerves are out of the way, we’ve got all night to take our time.”

Spencer froze for half a second before lifting his head just enough to look at you properly, his eyes wide, dark, needy.

“All night?” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

You smirked, fingers tightening ever so slightly on his back. “Mmmhmm.”

And just like that—

Spencer wasn’t exhausted anymore.

The night stretched long and slow, turning into early morning, and in those quiet, intimate hours, you discovered things—things that made you grin, things that made Spencer writhe, things that neither of you had ever put words to before but suddenly felt so obvious now.

Like hickeys.

Spencer really liked hickeys.

You hadn’t meant to leave one, not at first. But the moment your lips latched onto the sensitive skin of his neck, the second your teeth scraped lightly against his pulse point, Spencer let out a sound that was almost embarrassing—a sharp, gasping whine that had his fingers digging into your waist, his hips bucking up against you without thought.

And just like that, you knew.

“You like that?” you murmured against his skin, already smirking, already marking another spot just below his jaw.

Spencer shivered violently, his breath stuttering, his grip on you tightening. “I—” He cut himself off with a choked noise, arching into you again.

Yeah. He definitely liked it.

And then there was the other discovery that made your entire night.

Spencer was a certified bottom.

He liked giving up control, liked you taking the lead, liked it when you moved on top of him, guiding him, making him fall apart underneath you.

And oh, he thrived in it.

Especially when your hands threaded into his hair, whispered things to him, and praised him in that sweet, teasing tone that made him whimper.

And God, the way his hands roamed when you were on top—

Which led to the third discovery of the night.

Spencer was a tits guy.

Sure, he loved all of you—he worshipped every inch of you with those big, eager hands, his lips, his tongue, taking his time, savoring you like he had all the time in the world.

But your boobs?

Those really got him going.

Maybe it was because of the angle, the way they bounced when you moved, or maybe it was the way they fit so perfectly in his hands, how he could squeeze, cup, and knead them just the way he liked.

Maybe it was the fact that he could bury his face in them, groaning as he nuzzled into your chest, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your skin, mumbling about how perfect you were, how soft, how he never wanted to stop.

And when you realized?

When you teased him about it?

He turned a deep shade of red, sputtering something about biological instincts and aesthetic appeal, but the second you rolled your hips and dragged his hands back to your chest, his words died completely.

“Oh my God,” he groaned, his head thudding back against the pillow, his fingers squeezing you almost desperately.

And yeah—

You really liked that discovery, too.

—

Spencer had barely stepped into the bullpen when Derek’s booming voice rang through the air like a damn foghorn.

"Pretty boy!"

Spencer flinched. He knew that tone. That taunting, giddy, Derek-is-about-to-ruin-your-life tone.

And then—before Spencer could so much as blink—Derek was grinning at him, full teeth, eyes sparkling with absolute mischief as he pointed directly at Spencer’s neck.

“Oh no,” Spencer mumbled under his breath, instinctively reaching up as if he could somehow erase the evidence.

But it was too late. Because Derek had seen it. The hickey.

The hickey.

The one you had left on him Saturday night. Or was it Sunday morning? Honestly, it didn’t even matter—what mattered was that he had forgotten to cover it up, and now? Now, Derek was never going to let him live this down.

“Damn, kid,” Derek laughed, sauntering over with the confidence of a man who lived for this kind of teasing. “So you are gettin’ some.”

Spencer groaned, his entire face going up in flames. “Derek—”

“Nah, nah, don’t even try to deny it,” Derek interrupted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “That is a grade-A hickey, man. I’m talkin’ official, stamped, certified ‘this man is gettin’ wrecked’ level.”

“Derek, please,” Spencer hissed, glancing around desperately as if he could somehow stop this from escalating.

Too bad the damage was already done. Because JJ and Penelope were already staring. And then laughing. Loudly.

“Oh my God,” Penelope gasped, practically shrieking with delight. “Spencer! Look at you! Our boy is all grown up and getting marked up like a romance novel protagonist!”

“Okay, stop,” Spencer pleaded, feeling absolutely doomed.

JJ just smirked, sipping her coffee like this was the best entertainment she’d had in weeks. “So, how was your weekend?”

Spencer exhaled sharply, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and making a beeline for his desk, determined to escape. “I hate all of you.”

Derek just grinned, following after him with his arms crossed. “Nah, Pretty Boy, you love us. Just not as much as you love your girl—who, by the way, did some damage on you, man. She got territorial.”

Spencer slammed his forehead onto his desk with a loud thud. JJ and Penelope cackled. Derek patted him on the back like he had just won something. And Spencer?

Spencer knew damn well that this was never going away.

—

Spencer was always composed. Always Spencer. Polite, intelligent, articulate. The type of man who didn’t act impulsively, who thought through everything before making a move.

Except, apparently, when it came to you.

Because when it came to you, Spencer had no self-control.

And nowhere was that more apparent than tonight—right now—when he had you pressed up against the bar in the middle of a crowded room, his lips hot against your neck, his hands resting just a little too low on your waist, and his very obvious boner grinding against your ass.

This was not the Spencer the team knew. This was not the awkward, hesitant genius who stumbled over his words and overanalyzed his every move.

No, this Spencer was different.

This Spencer wanted you, and he didn’t care who saw.

This Spencer also happened to be a few glasses of champagne deep in his birthday celebration with the team.

“Spencer,” you hissed, gripping the edge of the bar for support as another firm roll of his hips had heat coiling low in your stomach.

He hummed against your neck, his lips still moving, still marking you in the same way he had been since he discovered how much he loved leaving hickeys on you.

“Hmm?” he murmured, voice low, dragging his tongue lightly over the fresh mark before pressing an open-mouthed kiss against it.

Your grip tightened on the bar. “We’re in public,” you reminded him, but your voice was breathy, weak, barely convincing.

Spencer chuckled—actually chuckled—against your skin, his fingers flexing against your hips. “And?”

And?

And?

You blinked, stunned by his sheer audacity, by the fact that Spencer Reid was grinding up against you in a public bar like he had every right to.

Like he owned you.

And maybe he did.

You hated to stop him. God, you hated it.

But Spencer was too drunk.

It wasn’t that he was wasted—Spencer didn’t drink often, and when he did, he rarely overindulged—but tonight, between rounds of celebratory drinks with the team and the way he had relaxed into your presence, he was just tipsy enough that his usual inhibitions were gone.

And normally, you wouldn’t mind. Normally, you’d love seeing him like this, out of his shell, more bold in his affections. But Spencer was intoxicated, and you were sober, and you refused—refused—to take advantage of that. 

So, with a deep breath, you gently pried his hands off your waist, turning around to face him fully.

“Spencer,” you murmured, voice soft but firm.

He blinked, slow and dazed, his lips swollen from where he had been so intent on marking you up. “Huh?”

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing against his flushed cheeks. “We need to get you home, okay?”

His brows furrowed. “But—”

“No ‘buts,’” you interrupted, kissing his cheek quickly before pulling away completely. “Come on, before Derek starts making bets about whether you’ll take shots with him.”

Spencer groaned, looking devastated—like a scolded puppy who had just been denied his favorite treat. His hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to pull you back, but even in his inebriated state, he listened.

With one last longing look at you, he sighed. “Fine.”

You smiled, taking his hand and leading him back to the group. The second you announced, “I’m taking Spencer home,” a chorus of hoots and hollers erupted from your friends.

Derek practically howled with laughter. “Damn, Pretty Boy, she’s gotta put you to bed already?”

“I hate all of you,” Spencer grumbled as Penelope cackled.

JJ smirked into her drink. “Don’t forget to hydrate him.”

“Oh, I will,” you assured her, rolling your eyes as you steered Spencer toward the door.

After a few more teasing remarks and one last dramatic wolf whistle from Derek, you managed to load Spencer into the passenger seat of your car.

As soon as you pulled out of the parking lot, you reached for the stereo and turned on classical music—something calming that would hopefully settle the restless energy still buzzing under Spencer’s skin.

And sure enough, within minutes, he was already melting into the seat, head lolling to the side as the soft notes of Debussy filled the quiet space.

You smiled to yourself, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“Almost home, Spence,” you murmured.

He sighed deeply, squeezing back. “You’re the best,” he mumbled, voice slurred with exhaustion.

The rest of the night had been easy enough—getting Spencer home, guiding his sleepy, clingy self into bed, listening to him mumble drunken nonsense as you pulled the covers over him. He had curled around you the second you lay down beside him, burying his face in your neck, sighing deeply as if you were the cure to whatever hangover awaited him in the morning.

Before you had drifted off, you had set up a glass of water and some painkillers on his bedside table, making sure everything he needed would be right there when he woke up.

Now, in the golden light of morning, you were sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, reading while Spencer slowly resurfaced from his alcohol-induced slumber.

He stirred first, shifting slightly under the sheets, letting out a sleepy little grunt before blinking blearily up at you.

For a moment, he just stared.

His hair was a complete mess, curls sticking up in every direction, and his face was still warm and soft from sleep. His lips parted slightly, his eyes unfocused as he tried to piece together where he was, why he felt like this, and why the hell you looked so perfectly content beside him while he felt like his brain was swimming in molasses.

“…Morning,” he croaked, voice raw from sleep.

You glanced down at him, smiling over the top of your book. “Morning, baby.”

He blinked slowly, still processing. Then, realization dawned—the bar, the teasing, you dragging him home like an overgrown toddler.

He groaned, flopping onto his back and throwing an arm over his face. “I was drunk.”

You laughed softly, closing your book and setting it aside. “Yep.”

He peeked out from under his arm, his lips twitching slightly. “Did I…?”

“You were very affectionate in public,” you teased, shifting to face him. “Like, very affectionate.”

Spencer made a noise between a groan and a laugh, rubbing his face. “Derek’s never going to let me live this down, is he?”

“I didn’t let anybody see, Spence.”

He sighed dramatically before turning his head to look at you again, his expression softening. His eyes flickered to the bedside table, taking in the water and painkillers, the small gesture that made something warm and fond settle in his chest.

“You took care of me,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course I did.”

Spencer didn’t say anything momentarily, just looking at you like he was trying to memorize you in the morning light. Then, without warning, he reached for you, pulling you down into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your skin, voice still thick with sleep.

Your heart stopped.

Completely.

Frozen in time, in this moment, in him.

Spencer had said it. So casually, so effortlessly, like it had always been there, sitting just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to slip out. Like it wasn’t something earth-shattering, something that made your breath catch and your entire world tilt.

You barely breathed as you whispered, "You love me?"

You felt his lips curve slightly against your skin—soft, sleepy, so sure.

"I love you," he repeated, voice muffled but certain, like it wasn’t even a question in his mind. Like it never had been.

The warmth of his words settled over you, seeping into every inch of your skin, curling around your heart like the softest, safest thing you’d ever known.

Suddenly, you were moving, pulling back just enough to cup his face in your hands and tilt his head so that his eyes met yours—still drowsy, still heavy with sleep, but so incredibly full. You smiled, soft and disbelieving like you couldn’t believe you had gotten this lucky. Like you couldn’t believe he was yours.

"I love you, too."

Spencer blinked, like it was his turn to freeze like his still-sleepy brain was trying to process that you had said it back. Then he smiled—wide and beautiful, the kind of smile that made his dimples show, the kind of smile that made your chest ache in the best possible way.

And without another word, he kissed you.

Slow, deep, certain.

Like he had just decided—right here, right now—that he was never letting you go.

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

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[macleod]

so, funny thing, I rarely ever mention it, but Al Capone is my great-great uncle, and according to my great-grandmother he was "the nicest, funniest, and most loving of anyone in the entire f/Family". Everyone loved him if you were decent. He just really hated cops, the government, politicians, and racists.

He had a spectacular original spaghetti recipe that I need to dig out, because he was supposedly an excellent cook, and she would fight to mention that he didn't start the soup kitchens, or the literacy clubs, as a way of only commiting tax evasion (as most documentaries and historians love to say, but likely didn't hurt his financial endeavors), but that he got into the whole mob thing only because he wanted to protect the community, get them some good food, and ensure they were literate and able to hold themselves higher against a system that worked against the people.

He was anti-prohibition, pro-sex work, pro-womens rights, and assumed to be anti-racist (for the time, he was ralso ather notable for hiring and including other minorities, including african-americans in family gatherings, at his clubs, in his security, and working at his home, and both his cook and butler spoke at length how well he treated them and paid far higher than expected – keep in mind, he was an Italian in Chicago, they considered Italians on the same level in some regards, so he would be possibly understanding of the plight).

While he was openly 'anti-communist' and pro-capitalist, I believe he would be considered the opposite today, considering that if you read most of what he's said, he would be more akin to a modern socialist and would likely be staunchly anticapitalist, but it was the 20s and the confusion is understandable.

Was he a murderer? Not sure, on a personal level, he certainly had others to commit atrocities, but according to my great grandmother "he couldn't hurt a fly".

Now, keep in mind he made nearly all of his revenue from bootlegging hospitality, during prohibition to the tune of hundreds of millions a year, an industry that was highly illegal and targeted by the government, I call it hospitality as he was quoted as saying: "When I sell liquor, they call it bootlegging. When my patrons serve it on silver trays on Lake Shore Drive, they call it hospitality".

Some additional quotes:

"I have always been opposed to violence, to shootings. I have fought, yes, but fought for peace. And I believe I can take credit for the peace that now exists in the racket game in Chicago. I believe that the people can thank me for the fact that gang killings here are probably a thing of the past."

"I'm tired of gang murders and gang shootings. It's a tough life to lead. You fear death at every moment, and worse than death, you fear the rats of the game who'd run around and tell the police if you don't constantly satisfy them with money and favors."

"I want peace, and I will live and let live. I'm like any other man. I've been in this racket long enough to realize that a man in my game must take the breaks, the fortunes of war. I haven't had any peace of mind in years. Every minute I'm in danger of death."

"Why not treat our business like any other man treats his, as something to work at in the daytime and forget when he goes home at night? There's plenty of business for everybody. Why kill each other over it?"

A fairly decent article from 2016 that I just found has the title of "Al Capone caused less death and destruction than today’s capitalists" and within that he let this piece of information out, which I feel is entirely authentic from everything I've ever read, and heard, on him:

In my youth, I met several men who had once worked for Al Capone, and every one of them liked him. They talked about Capone offering them jobs during the Great Depression, when it was difficult for most workers to find employment. All of them had driven trucks into Canada, loaded up with booze, and brought it back to warehouses in the USA.

And, since its Valentines Day, the anniversary of the "St. Valentines Day Massacre" that shook the country, and took the lives of seven people (if only they knew what happens every day in America, 96 years later...), there is very little evidence that he was the orchestrator, and in fact, several biographers now believe it was someone hellbent on revenge against him.

Now, I am not going to deny that he likely did some incredibly wrong things, he absolutely did, but given everyone I know, have read, and have seen from him, he seems decent enough given the circumstances.

It's hilarious to me that Al Capone was an amazing tipper. I get why it took so long to catch him.

[bbokicidal]

maybe one more. | [SKZ]

warning: 18+ (MDNI), no daddy kink just actual dilf skz.

dilf!chris who loves to find quiet time with you when your daughter finally lays down for bed. the moment he knows she's asleep he's finding you in the laundry room tidying up for the evening, pressing his hips to yours from behind while whispering that you'll just have to be quiet.

dilf!minho who grew even more obsessed with your pussy after you had the baby. the moment you were in the clear to be sexually active again, he was on you like a moth to a flame - covering your slit with his cum before pushing into you in hopes maybe a little would take.

dilf!changbin who is so patient with you in the evenings. he lets you take your time putting the baby to bed, but recently has noticed it takes shorter amounts of time to do so. you must've found a trick to get her to sleep; driven by the fact that he was waiting for you in the living room ready to fuck your brains out and maybe give you another one.

dilf!hyunjin who treats you like the queen you are after the baby is born. he knows being a mother is hard so he starts cooking more, setting up candlelight dinners; though him being a gentleman will not stop him from bending you over the table and fucking you with his fingers until you're squirting all over his hand.

dilf!jisung who figures out real quick that he's obsessed with the sight of you pregnant - and who ends up making you conceive a short period after the first baby is born. what? he can't help it; he loves painting your walls white. <3

dilf!felix who decides to put your child - once old enough - in daycare on friday mornings and afternoons. he says it's to give you a day to relax at home and catch up on any lost sleep; but he also has fridays off, so instead it's just a day for him to catch up on fucking you as hard as he can, all while muttering, "god, I missed this pussy."

dilf!seungmin who, most of the time, cuddles up to you and doesn't initiate anything because he knows you must be tired from taking care of the baby while he's away. but the moment you rub back on him, he's pressing a hand to your lower back and fucking you from behind until you see stars. he misses having sex just as much as you do; If only you could find more time.

dilf!jeongin who takes time out of his mornings to bring your son to school with you, dropping him off with a smile before driving home. you two don't even make it out of the driveway - because what if he has to leave right away for work? so he pushes his seat back from the wheel and guides your hips with his hands, fucking up into you while you bounce in his lap.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BEGIN AGAIN

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a revenge plan turns complicated when y/n falls for rafe cameron—the one person she was never supposed to love. but was it ever just revenge?

based on this ask !! this request has been in the works for a couple weeks (hence the 5k word count😝), i really really enjoyed writing this and as soon as i read it i knew i had to make it inspired by ‘begin again,’ and i hope you don’t mind me taking creative liberty on this one anon, so thank you !! <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: some angst but a fluff ending, cheating (jj to reader), soft!rafe, cursing, allusions to sex, revenge plan to lovers (?), alcohol consumption, rafe has a normal family in this one (😀). (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (i got insanely carried away🫣)

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N could still feel the sting of JJ's words, the way they sliced through her like a dull knife—slow, painful, irreparable.

"It just happened, okay?" he had said, desperation laced in his voice. "It didn't mean anything, baby. I swear."

But it did.

If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have done it. If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have shattered her trust, her love, her belief in him with a single, reckless mistake.

She stared at him, chest rising and falling with the force of her breath, hands curled into fists at her sides. The night air was thick with humidity, the salty ocean breeze doing nothing to cool the fire burning inside her.

"You cheated on me with Kiara?" she spat, her voice trembling, though not with sadness—no, sadness was something she'd felt the moment the words left his mouth. Now, it was only rage. "And you expect me to just—what? Pretend it didn't happen?"

JJ ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking more disheveled than usual. "I was drunk, Y/N. It wasn't planned. It wasn't—"

"Don't," she cut him off sharply. "Don't stand there and try to make excuses." She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You know what hurts the most, JJ? It's not even just the cheating. It's the fact that I defended you to everyone. My parents, my friends. They all told me I was stupid for choosing a Pogue over every other guy who actually makes sense for me. But I didn't care, because I loved you."

Her voice broke, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep it together.

"And what did you do with that?" she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes blazing. "You threw it in my face. You embarrassed me."

JJ's jaw clenched. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. You know that."

"Yeah? Well, you did."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Y/N could see it in his face—the guilt, the regret. But it didn't matter. It wasn't enough. It never would be.

She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "We're done, JJ."

His head snapped up. "Y/N—"

"Don't," she warned, her voice final. "You made your choice. Now I'm making mine."

And with that, she turned and walked away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She didn't cry.

Not when she got home, not when she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, not even when the memories of JJ and everything they had crashed over her like a tidal wave. No, she didn't cry.

She just got angry.

Because she had been loyal. She had been good to him. She had given him everything, only for him to betray her with Kiara of all people—the one girl she had actually trusted.

And now? Now, she wanted him to hurt.

Which was exactly why she was standing in front of Tannyhill, her heart pounding in her chest.

This was reckless. Dangerous, even. But she didn't care.

She needed this.

She needed revenge.

And she knew just the person to help her get it.

—

Rafe Cameron was a lot of things—arrogant, temperamental, a little unhinged—but he wasn't stupid.

So when Y/N showed up at his door at nearly midnight, looking like she was on the verge of either committing murder or breaking down completely, he knew something had happened.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes scanning her face. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

She swallowed, straightening her shoulders. "I need your help."

Rafe raised a brow. "With what?"

"Making JJ regret everything."

A slow smirk curled at the corners of his lips. "Interesting."

She exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Are you in or not?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really wanna do this?"

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, he just studied her, as if trying to figure out how serious she was. Then, something shifted in his expression.

"Alright," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "Let's make him suffer."

The plan was simple.

Make JJ jealous. Make him see what he lost. Make him regret ever touching Kiara.

But some point during that evening, the lines blurred.

Because Rafe was Rafe—intense, intoxicating, dangerously charismatic. And Y/N was already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

So when they ended up in his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind them, it wasn't just about JJ anymore.

It was about the way Rafe looked at her, like she was the most interesting thing in the room. The way his hands skimmed her waist, his touch possessive yet careful. The way his breath fanned against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Still thinking about JJ?" he murmured, fingers tracing slow patterns on her hip.

She met his gaze, lips parted, heart pounding.

"No," she admitted, and it was the truth.

Because in that moment, it wasn't about revenge. It wasn't about making JJ jealous.

It was about the fire in her veins, the ache in her chest, the desperate need to feel something other than betrayal.

And Rafe—Rafe was more than willing to oblige.

His lips crashed against hers, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Nothing except Rafe Cameron.

—

Y/N lay beside Rafe, her body still humming from the events of the night. The air between them was thick with something she couldn't quite name—satisfaction, exhilaration, maybe even something deeper. The sheets were a mess, tangled between them as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.

Beside her, Rafe propped himself up on one elbow, smirking down at her. His hair was tousled, his lips still slightly swollen from their heated encounter. There was something different about the way he was looking at her, but Y/N shoved that thought away before she could entertain it. This wasn't about them. This wasn't about feelings.

It was about revenge.

"So, how do you wanna play this?" Rafe asked, tracing his fingers lazily over her bare shoulder.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes sharp despite the haziness of their moment. "We make it obvious enough that JJ notices," she said, her voice steady, as if the way his touch sent shivers down her spine wasn't affecting her. "But not so obvious that it looks fake."

Rafe chuckled. "So, we make it look real then?"

Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was doing—he liked to mess with her, push her buttons, see how far he could get under her skin. But she wouldn't let him win.

"Exactly," she said, rolling onto her side, meeting his gaze head-on. "You're his biggest enemy, and I'm his biggest mistake. Nothing will drive him crazier than seeing me with you."

Rafe's smirk widened. "You really are ruthless when you want to be."

"You have no idea."

Rafe hummed in amusement, and with that, their arrangement was set.

This was about JJ. About making him regret everything.

At least, that's what Y/N told herself.

—

The first time they made their "relationship" public, it was calculated. Rafe had picked her up from the country club in his Pogue-killer truck, windows down, music blasting—just in time for JJ to see them as he passed by on his dirt bike.

JJ had stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing, jaw clenching so hard Y/N thought his teeth might break.

Rafe had played it up, resting his hand on her thigh, flashing JJ a taunting grin before speeding off.

Y/N had expected to feel triumphant.

Instead, her stomach twisted in a way she didn't understand.

—

The first time Rafe showed up early, it threw her off.

She had told him to meet her for coffee on a random Wednesday, expecting the usual—him strolling in twenty minutes late, making some sarcastic remark, turning their little arrangement into something that felt like a joke.

But when she walked in, he was already there.

Sitting at a corner table, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest. And when he saw her, he stood up, gave her a small nod.

"You're early," she said, eyebrows raised.

"You sound surprised."

"I am surprised."

Rafe smirked, pulling out the chair for her. "Sit down, princess."

She hesitated before taking the seat, watching him as he slid into the chair across from her. It felt... strange. Unfamiliar.

JJ had never been early.

JJ had never pulled out her chair.

She shook the thought away, focusing instead on the game they were playing. That's all it was—a game.

Still, she couldn't ignore the way her chest tightened when Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking at her like she was something worth paying attention to.

After they made their orders, they sat with their freshly brewed drinks.

"Didn't take you for a latte girl," he teased, nodding at her cup.

Y/N raised a brow. "Didn't take you for someone who hangs out anywhere that doesn't serve alcohol."

Rafe smirked. "Touché."

It should have been a quick meeting—just another public sighting to stir the pot. But somehow, they ended up talking.

Really talking.

Y/N had expected him to flirt, to push the boundaries of their deal, but instead, they talked about their childhood—about summers spent at the club, about the times they'd been forced to sit at boring Kook events together as kids.

Rafe had made her laugh. Genuinely laugh.

She had almost forgotten why they were doing this in the first place.

—

A week later, he picked her up for a party, and she made a point to wear heels.

JJ had always hated when she wore them, always made a face, always grumbled something about her being too tall next to him.

But when she climbed into Rafe's truck, he barely glanced at them before smirking. "Damn," he muttered, eyes dragging up her legs. "Trying to make it harder for me to behave?"

She rolled her eyes, but her stomach did something weird. Something dangerous.

Rafe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over her thigh, his fingers warm and steady.

It was meant to be for show.

For JJ.

So why did it feel like something else?

Later that night at the party, Y/N and Rafe were standing just close enough that people whispered.

JJ was across the yard, watching them with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel.

Y/N should have been paying attention to him, should have been relishing in the jealousy that was the whole point of this.

But instead, she was too focused on Rafe's hand on the small of her back. The way his thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against her skin.

When she turned to look at him, he wasn't watching JJ.

He was watching her.

—

A couple days later, she almost slipped up.

They were walking down the street after grabbing dinner—something casual, something that wasn't supposed to feel like a date.

She was about to bring up JJ, to remind herself why they were doing this in the first place.

But before she could, Rafe started talking about his family.

"My dad's obsessed with old westerns," he said, shaking his head. "Every Christmas, like clockwork, he makes us watch The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

Y/N blinked. "Seriously?"

Rafe chuckled. "Swear to God. Every single year. Sarah and I know every damn line."

She found herself laughing, imagining Rafe and Sarah rolling their eyes as Ward Cameron sat in front of the TV, quoting the movie word for word.

JJ had never talked about things like that.

JJ had never let her in like that.

She pushed the thought away, but the seed had already been planted.

—

Then came the night that the shift between them had started to show.

It was late, and they were sitting on the hood of Rafe's truck, looking out over the water.

The party was still going strong down the beach, but they had drifted away from it, neither of them in the mood for drunken chaos.

Rafe took a swig from his beer, then turned to look at her.

"You ever gonna tell me why you were with him?"

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rafe tilted his head. "I just don't get it. You're smart. You've got standards. And yet..." He let the sentence hang.

Y/N huffed, kicking a loose rock off the side of the truck. "He was... fun. He made me feel like I wasn't just another Kook girl. Like I wasn't just..." She trailed off, feeling stupid for saying it out loud.

Rafe was quiet for a second before saying, "He didn't deserve you."

She turned to look at him, expecting the usual sarcasm, but there was none. Just quiet certainty.

Her throat tightened.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know that now."

And when Rafe threw his head back, laughing at something she said a few minutes later, she thought it was strange.

Strange that he thought she was funny.

Because JJ never did.

—

Another night, they found themselves in his truck, parked by the beach. It had started raining, heavy droplets drumming against the windshield, the air thick with the scent of salt and rain.

Y/N had been rambling about something—some ridiculous Kook drama that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't actually matter.

And then, out of nowhere, Rafe had reached across the console and tucked a strand of damp hair away from her face.

Y/N had gone silent, her heart doing something it definitely shouldn't have been doing.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe had only smirked. "No reason."

But there was a reason.

And it scared her.

She knew things were getting complicated when she started noticing things about him she shouldn't.

Like the way his voice softened when he said her name.

Or the way he always made sure she got home safe, even when they weren't together.

Or the way he never pushed her, never made her feel like this was just some game.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between their act and reality started to blur.

And Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to figure out what that meant.

—

The moment that nearly shattered her resolve happened at another party.

They had been standing close, laughing about something she couldn't even remember now. And then, without thinking, she had reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of his face.

It had been instinctive. Natural.

But when she realised what she had done, her breath hitched.

Because Rafe was looking at her like she had just changed everything.

And maybe... maybe she had.

Y/N kept telling herself that this was just revenge.

That the way her stomach flipped whenever Rafe touched her was just part of the plan.

That the way she found herself looking for him in crowded rooms was just to keep up the act.

But deep down, she knew.

She had fallen for Rafe Cameron.

—

The room was still heavy with the lingering heat from the night—sheets twisted around their legs, the soft hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the thick humidity of the night. Y/N lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the whirlwind that had completely changed her life in the past few weeks.

Rafe lay beside her, his body close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but far enough that there was space between them—a silent invitation, as if asking her to fill it. His hand rested on his stomach, but his fingers were almost touching hers.

The silence stretched comfortably between them. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't forced. It felt...right.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a glow over his face. He was still as handsome as ever, his jaw sharp, eyes intense even when he was relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But it wasn't the same cocky smirk that had first drawn her in—this was something different. It was real. It was genuine.

She couldn't stop herself from smiling too. "What are we doing, Rafe?" she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe turned his head, his blue eyes locking with hers. There was a quiet intensity in them, a look that said he knew exactly what she meant but wasn't sure how to say it either. "I don't know," he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotion. "But I think it's something good."

Y/N's heart fluttered, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. Rafe was always the tough guy, the one who hid behind arrogance and bravado, the one who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But with her, it was different. She could see it now—the cracks were there, but they weren't flaws. They were pieces of him she could understand, pieces that were human, not just a cold façade.

She reached out, her hand finding his, fingers brushing gently over his knuckles. He didn't pull away. Instead, he laced their fingers together, holding her hand with a tenderness that surprised her.

"Do you regret this?" she asked, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. She had to know. There were so many things between them, so many things left unsaid, but that was the one question that had been haunting her the most. Did he regret it?

Rafe blinked, the intensity in his gaze softening as he turned his hand to squeeze hers. "No," he answered, his voice steady but with an underlying depth she couldn't ignore. "I don't regret it." He let out a breath, his gaze turning towards the ceiling, as if trying to find the right words. "I thought it was just supposed to be a game, you know? Make JJ jealous, show him that you could move on...but it's not a game anymore."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced. She didn't know how she felt about that—about the fact that it had started with a plan, a scheme, to get back at JJ for everything. But as the days passed, the more time she spent with Rafe, the more she realized just how much they had in common, how well they fit together.

Her fingers traced the lines of his hand as she spoke. "Neither did I," she confessed. "I started this thinking I'd get back at JJ, but...I don't know, something just changed. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about him."

Rafe's eyes met hers again, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, his voice low, but with warmth now. "I know what you mean."

They both lay there in the quiet, holding hands, letting the moment stretch out. There was something peaceful about it—something intimate that neither of them had ever expected when this all began. What started as a plan to make someone else jealous had somehow turned into something much deeper, something neither of them had seen coming.

Y/N shifted slightly, turning onto her side to face him fully. She couldn't deny how she felt anymore. The chemistry between them was undeniable, but it wasn't just that. It was the way they laughed together, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the room, the way he protected her without even thinking.

"Rafe," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Her heart raced in her chest as soon as the words left her mouth. She had said it before, in the past—I love you—but never like this. Never in this way.

Rafe's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling a little faster now, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Instead, he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands, as if needing to touch her to make sure she was real. His thumb brushed over her cheek, soft and slow, sending a wave of warmth flooding through her.

"You're not the only one," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm falling for you too, Y/N."

Her breath caught in her throat. The words she had always wanted to hear from him, the words she had never expected to come, were there now. And they were real.

Rafe leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss, soft and slow, like he was savoring it. It wasn't heated or urgent like some of their previous kisses—it was gentle, sweet, and full of the unspoken feelings they had been holding back. It was everything they hadn't been able to say out loud.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, and they both just breathed, their hands still entwined, hearts racing in sync.

"I never thought I'd say this," Rafe said quietly, eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath, "but you make me feel like I'm actually worth something."

Y/N's chest tightened. She could feel the weight of his words, the vulnerability he was offering her. He had always been the guy who seemed so confident, so sure of himself, but in this moment, Y/N saw something different. She saw the cracks in his armor, the part of him that had never believed he was good enough for anything—anyone.

And Y/N? She couldn't let him think that way. Not anymore.

"You are worth everything, Rafe," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "More than you know."

For a long time, they stayed like that—just holding each other, letting the night wash over them, the silence comfortable and full of promises. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the understanding that something had changed. Something real had blossomed between them, and neither of them was running from it anymore.

"I've never felt like this before," Rafe admitted after a while, his voice soft but full of sincerity. "With you, it feels like...like I could actually have something real. Something that isn't just a mess."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "You have it, Rafe. You have me."

And for the first time in a long time, both of them believed it.

—

It had been a couple of weeks since the night Rafe and Y/N had finally confessed their feelings for each other. Their relationship had progressed quickly, but neither of them had hesitated. They had fallen for each other in a way that felt right—organic and effortless. The label was there, official now, and it felt like both of them had finally found what they were looking for.

But as expected, the whispers started circulating quickly. Word of their relationship had gotten out, and it wasn't long before people started noticing—especially JJ.

The evening was warm and humid, a perfect night for a party at the Boneyard. The music was thumping, people were scattered around the yard, drinking and chatting, while others danced under the string lights. Y/N, Rafe, Topper, Sarah, and a few other Kooks were lounging around a table near the fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting casually. For the first time in weeks, Y/N felt at ease. There were no whispers, no judgment about her being with Rafe—only the people she cared about and a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time.

Y/N had spent most of her time with Rafe over the past couple of weeks, getting to know him in a way she never had before. She had always known the confident, rebellious side of him, but she was starting to see the softer side—the one who cared deeply and would go to any lengths to protect the people he loved. They had spent lazy days by the beach, late-night drives, and spontaneous trips to places that weren't on any map. She was falling for him harder every day, but it wasn't just the physical attraction. It was the little things—how he cared about her, how he made her feel, how he treated her like she was everything. He had given her more than she could have ever imagined.

She glanced at Rafe as they laughed with Topper, Sarah, and the others, her hand naturally finding his under the table. Their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, she just savored the feeling of being with someone who made her feel seen, understood, and loved.

But as she was about to say something to Rafe, a familiar figure appeared in her peripheral vision. She stiffened. It was JJ.

JJ stormed over, his face a mixture of anger and desperation, his jaw clenched as he walked straight toward them. Y/N's heart skipped, not knowing what to expect. She knew this confrontation was coming—it was inevitable.

Rafe noticed it too, his hand tightening around Y/N's as JJ approached, but he didn't move. He didn't flinch. He stayed calm, but Y/N could see the subtle tension in his shoulders, his jaw tight as he prepared for whatever was coming.

"Y/N," JJ said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. His eyes were frantic, scanning her face. "We need to talk."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, her grip on Rafe's hand tightening. She could feel the anger brewing inside her, but she was trying to keep her composure. Rafe gave her a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing the back of her hand gently.

"I don't think we need to talk, JJ," Y/N said coolly, her voice steady despite the boiling fury inside her. "But if you really need to hear it from me, I'll tell you. I definitely don't want to be with you anymore."

JJ's eyes widened, his face contorting in disbelief. "What the hell, Y/N?" He snapped, glancing at Rafe briefly, his expression turning hostile. "This isn't about him, is it? You don't really like him. You're just trying to get back at me for what I did. It's all a game to you, isn't it?" His voice wavered, a hint of panic creeping into his words.

Y/N could feel the heat rise in her chest, but she didn't back down. "It's not a game, JJ. It's not about you anymore. It's about me." She stood up, her voice booming over the music, silencing the chatter around them. People had stopped what they were doing, watching the confrontation unfold.

"You're such a horrible person," Y/N continued, her words sharp and cutting. "You broke me, JJ. You cheated on me with Kiara—our friend. You think I can just forget that? You think I'm some fool who's gonna let you walk back into my life after everything you did?" She took a step closer to him, her eyes locking onto his. "You humiliated me. And you have the audacity to stand here and beg for me back like nothing happened?"

The words tumbled out of her, each one heavier than the last, and with each syllable, Y/N felt like a weight was being lifted off her chest. She was finally letting him have it. All the hurt, all the frustration, the betrayal she had been carrying for weeks—it was all spilling out now, and she couldn't stop it.

"I wish I had gotten with Rafe sooner," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "Because with him, I know what it's like to be truly happy. He doesn't lie to me, he doesn't cheat on me. He shows me what love really is. What I've always deserved."

The group around them murmured, and she noticed Rafe's expression go from unreadable to... something else. He was staring at her, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. His face softened, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time she'd seen him like this—vulnerable, open, and completely in awe of her.

"Y/N..." JJ began, his voice faltering, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

"Shut up, JJ," Y/N snapped, glaring at him. "I don't want to hear it anymore. You lost me the second you cheated. And now you're just proving how pathetic you are by begging me to take you back." She shook her head in disgust. "You don't deserve me. And you definitely don't deserve to have me back."

The words echoed in the air as Y/N turned her back on him, her chest heaving with emotion. She felt alive, empowered, and something else—something she hadn't felt in so long. Free.

The group erupted into cheers. Topper raised his drink in the air, Sarah clapped, and a few others cheered Y/N on. It was like she had just dropped a bomb, and the energy in the air shifted. The Kooks were no strangers to drama, but this felt different. This felt like the culmination of everything Y/N had been holding in.

Rafe didn't say anything at first. He just stared at her, wide-eyed, his face unreadable. And for a brief moment, Y/N wondered if she had gone too far. But then, without warning, Rafe stood up. He took her hand in his, pulling her gently away from the crowd, leading her toward the exit.

Y/N didn't say anything as she walked with him. She just wanted to get away from the scene, to take a breath and let the adrenaline settle in her chest. The confrontation had been messy, but it had been cathartic. She had finally stood up for herself, and in doing so, she felt like she had reclaimed something she thought she had lost forever.

When they reached Rafe's car, Y/N paused, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the scene. She turned to face him, her brows furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry for making such a scene back there," she said, her voice quieter now. "I just... I couldn't hold it in anymore."

Rafe looked at her, his expression softening, and before she could say anything else, he pulled her into a kiss.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but she melted into it instantly. His lips were soft against hers, the kiss slow, deep, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt in that one moment. She kissed him back with equal intensity, the heat of the night surrounding them, but the only thing she could focus on was him—the way he made her feel.

When they pulled apart, Rafe rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "I've never had anyone defend me like that before," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "No one's ever stood up for me like that, Y/N."

Y/N's heart swelled, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a protective embrace. "I meant every word," she whispered. "I love you, Rafe. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Rafe's eyes softened, a smile tugging at his lips. "I love you too, Y/N." He kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss that held all the unspoken things between them.

In that moment, Y/N knew. She had fought for herself. She had found her strength, and now, she had found her true love too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a labour of love and i had SO much fun writing it and i’m so sorry it’s taken a while anon, i just wanted this to be PERFECT !! this has got to be in my top three faves that i’ve written and i hope it’s what you wanted <3

i’ve had this in my drafts (as well as a few more) from the past month of requests, and i’ve just been editing them all now (that’s the toughest part💔), but i’m getting there so thank you all for being so patient <3

[r0-boat]

Wrapped up gift

Happy Valentine's Day enjoy my gift with extra sugar!

This is part of a collab hosted by @dream-effect

Don't ever ask me to do this ever again

Whb!Seven Kings X Gn!Reader Fic

Cw: NSFW, gangbang, double penetration, spit roasting, cum drunk, bondage, name-calling, praise, multiple orgasms, uses of toys, biting, marking, creampie, choking, Crying kink.

WC: 5.1K

Everyone has been acting weird today…

Well, weirder than usual, many devils have avoided you, or that's what you think.

It's not like you expect the countless attention and gifts you are showered with every day, but it does raise a few questions when one day you can't even walk around town without a flock of devils around you, and the next, no one can hang out with you. 

Not even the kings. Who usually blows up your phone at all hours of the day?

Whether it's Asmodeus’s random confessions of love, Lucifer using your medical history as an excuse to talk to you, Beelzebub going on a random tangent about God knows what, Belphegor talking about anime, or Leviathan’s awkward ass small talk, only to spend another hour arguing with you over the phone, Mammon sending you pictures of expensive gifts he's about to buy you, or Satan angrily texting you why you haven't blocked everyone yet. Usually, your phone is flooded with any of these weirdos, but it was quiet and lonely for the first time since you came to hell.

With a sigh, you walk through the unusually empty halls of Gehenna’s Castle. The echoing of your footsteps mocked you till you reached your room. You push your door open when something fluttering down to the ground catches your eye: a pink envelope with a pink wax seal notice the fancy engraving on the and Asmodeus's sigil. It was ha and miss, especially the ‘interesting’ encounters you've had with him. His sigil became not only his symbol but also his calling card. You hesitate before sliding your thumb underneath the wax and opening the envelope. You sigh, scrunching your eyelids, preparing the potential nastiness you're about to unfold out of this letter…

Good fuck, why is it stained…?

‘Dear beloved, 

I prepared some Valentine's Day gifts for you at my castle. Let's enjoy Valentine's Day together!❤️

Constantly yearning, Asmodeus’

The letter was short and innocent, but you knew better than to trust anything from Asmodeus. The motherfucker couldn't even bother to text you, instead sending you an embroidered letter with an equally fancy-looking envelope doused in his normal scent.

Flashbacks of the past, heated in your eyes, prove what awaits you if you accept his invitation. But then again, you've never felt so lonely on a day you're supposed to be with the people you love. Also, Asmodeus was the only demon ever to mention Valentine's Day. You didn't even know today was a holiday until he mentioned it. You're not sure how you felt about the fact that no one even wanted to see you on Valentine's Day.

Maybe it was because Valentine's Day was an Earth holiday, not a holiday they usually celebrate in hell…Yeah, let's go with that. 

Knowing that he knew and wanted to spend time with you, your heart pumping with excitement, you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

You almost put down the leather until you realized what was in the bottom right-hand corner: an arrow pointing to the other side with the words ‘flip me ;)’ written in cursive.

On the back, you see what looks like a Latin chant. More of his handwriting was next to it: ‘simple teleportation spell to the front gates of my palace while you momentarily will feel a little dizzy; that's normal.’

Thank goodness for the grueling lessons Sitri would give you after you discovered that most demons use Latin as their mother tongue.

It was hard, but you resisted the temptation. As soon as your lips mouth the final syllable, your world spins. You almost lost your lunch as you instantly felt like you'd been propelled forward. One moment, you were in your bedroom in Gehenna, and the next, you stood on the red carpets of Abaddon, looking down that all-too-familiar hallway. 

Your eyes landed on a demon leaning against the wall, a black crop top resembling other biker jackets that reach the same length as the top, with spikes that adorn their collar and shoulders. His bulging muscles and choice of clothing looked scary, but as soon as Zalgrok saw them coming down the hallway, he smiled, picking his hands out of his pockets. “Hey, His Majesty is waiting for you.” Your eyes dart around the empty halls. But just like before, there were no signs of people. “Where is everybody?” The smile falters momentarily, his eyes darting to the ground, trying to think of an untrue excuse. “Asmodeus ordered everyone to leave, but he's in one of our private rooms with the other kings!” He smiled, pointing at one of the doors, a door to a room you haven't seen before. It looked different from fancy dark wood with golden embroidery.

This time, you walked up to the door. Zalgrok followed behind his hand, itching to reach out and touch you. He perhaps curled his fingers and interlocked them with yours.

He never gets to play with his Majesty's favorite toys, and yet here they are now, their ass swaying as they walk tantalizingly.

Before he could even react, it was too late. As quickly as you came in, you left. Zalgrok clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning on his heel, not wanting to stay longer to hear what would happen on the other side of that door.

The room was dark, with only as much light as the scattered candle could provide. Rose petals scattered all across the floor. A wide variety of sweets, chocolates, and fruits decorated the table, although some looked half-eaten.

Wrapped gift boxes litter the ground around the couch, some smaller than others. And at the center of it all, on a large bed, the devil of lust himself thrilled across the furniture as usual, his nude self dressed nicely in a tuxedo. His hair was slicked back and done into a bun. He smelled of Ivory and rose petals as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my dear~! Poor baby must have been so lonely…” he purred as he opened his arms to beckon you to climb into them when he saw you approach him. You've never been so happy to see Asmodeus that you practically skipped toward him, but before you could get close enough to even touch him, a repellent tentacle wrapped around your throat rather harshly, pulling you back with enough force to make you stumble into something. 

The tentacles slip from your throat, replacing it with a firm hand. 

“So, is this what you do when I'm not here, whore yourself out to the nearest devil?” Leviathan hissed in your ear. He loosened his hand just enough to have you turn your head to look at him. You could barely see anything but his scowling face, but you could have sworn he was wearing a suit, too. Your suspicions are quickly confirmed, your heart jumping out of your chest as you see another devil seem to come out of himself, finally showing himself. 

The buzzing of flies becomes louder until they coagulate into one spot, Beelzebub appears as the horde disperses. He was also wearing a suit; however, it seemed that he had either forgotten or did not care to finish his green tie, as it simply hung over his neck. He spent no time taking off the jacket part of his suit immediately before letting out a relieved sigh. “These things just aren't for me…Glad you liked the eye candy, though, babe.” You watch helplessly, trapped in Levi's arms, his hand still wrapped around your throat, only putting pressure when Beel gets close. “Touch them, and I'll kill you…” He snarls. 

"Hate it or not, you still agreed. It's too late to back out of it now, Leviathan." Lucifer, whom you had just noticed, had been sitting idly on the chairs facing the bed, swirling a glass of wine in his hand as if he were some vampire out of an old film before taking a sip.

“I can feel their delicious greed from here. They must love their gift." Mammon smirked. Levi's hands were long gone, replaced with his large, firm ones wandering to your butt. 

“Slut better like it because I'm not doing this again…” Satan growled, feeling something tug tightly around his palm.

Asmodeus finally got up from the bed. From the other side of him, you see Belphegor, his tie loose, one of the buttons of his polo shirt undone, and his head resting against his hand. Asmo squishes your cheeks together playfully, shaking your head. “Now it's time for our Valentine's Day gift!” The wicked smile on his face when he said that made your hair stand on end. Your eyes went wide as you felt the thundering in your chest; shoot…again, you had forgotten; if you had known days in advance, you would have prepared at least something. You sputter out pathetically, "But I didn't bring anything…I'm sorry." The kings around the room went silent before bursting out in laughter.

“They said ‘they didn't bring anything’… How cute!” One of them mocked. Even Asmodeus struggled to contain his laughter as the hand that squished your cheeks together rushed to cover his snickering smile.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you felt heat rush to your face. 

“Stop, don't laugh!! You don't understand!” You hiss to at least try to explain yourself, but instead, Satan approaches close enough to weave his hand in your hair and yank your head up to look at his wide-eyed, toothy grin.

“No toy; you don't understand.” He lets it go over your head before unraveling the thing around his palm. A red ribbon. 

“You are the gift.” The realization hits you like a truck before anything can truly sink in.

“Strip them," Leviathan commanded with a hiss as Mammon’s big hands grabbed the fabric of the outfit you picked out, thinking it would just be you and Asmodeus.

“So sorry we have to ruin your outfit, dear; it's cute, it really is, but it would look better on the floor." Asmodeus laughs, licking his lips as he hears the fabric begin to tear. 

“I'll buy them new clothes, something far better than these worthless rags!" Mammon grunted with each flex of his muscles. 

The last piece of clothing rips off you, falling to the floor and revealing lovely lace underneath. The kings in the room hummed in delight, except for Leviathan and Asmodeus, whose moods were opposite. 

“Fucking worthless slut…Just what were you planning on doing with this, huh?!” Leviathan grits his teeth, his hand harshly grabbing the delicate lace, caring little for how his claws dug holes into the fabric.

And, of course, Asmodeus responds with a catty grin, fueling that fire of jealousy.

“Beloved, if I had known you would come see me in this, why? I would have canceled plans and just had you all to myself.”

Satan snarled before finishing Mammon's job, working with Leviathan to tear apart the lacy undergarments, abandoning them in shreds of cloth on the floor. 

“Such heathens…” murmured Lucifer, ignoring the bulging tent in his dress pants. Watching every move Satan made as he used the ribbon to tie you. Even with Mammon, Leviathan, and Beelzebub holding your arms and legs as Satan began to work, the binding, occasionally with a ribbon, would twist and fold with every imperfect knot. His eyebrows furrowed until he finally got up.

“Move, you're not doing it right." He ignored Satan's glare as he snatched the ribbon.

"It's like bandages; let me do this." Lucifer couldn't help but sneak a small kiss from your lips, his fangs catching your lips and causing soft, supple skin to bleed, which excited Beelzebub, who had been playing with your hand before. He didn't waste any time in fear that some other devil would steal a taste of your sweet red blood. He moved in as much as he could, forcing your head until his mouth could reach yours. His tongue glides across your bleeding lip, getting every last drop of your delicious blood. Beelzebub shivers at your taste, unconsciously trying to press his body against yours, tongue immediately moving into your mouth.

As Lucifer almost finished wrapping your body, you felt the ribbon tighten against your skin before the demon tied it into a neat little bow. Your hands and legs were still free, but not for long, as Satan handed Lucifer more ribbons for him to work with. You were too occupied with Beelzebub’s mouth and tongue to care that Mammon was holding your wrists together for Lucifer to tie up until a neat little bow.

Beelzebub, finally having his fill…for now, breaks away from you as Mammon and Satan move you toward the bed. “You look so beautiful like this." Whispered the Mammon, looking at you as if you were his greatest treasure. Satan snarls as he moves his body in between your legs, keeping them nice and spread, grinding his hips against yours. "Nice and fuckable; can't wait to leave you sore for weeks.”

You see Asmodeus off to the side, grabbing a present off the floor. "Is that for me? You ask, and he smiles. "Yes, well… Yes and no. It's for all of us~" With such precision, he picks at the ribbon at the top of the bow, slowly peeling it loose. The ribbon slips from its knot. He peels open the wrapping before putting his hand into the open box. Taking out a bar with two cuffs on the end. His thumb applies pressure as the bar springs longer.

“This will keep you nice and spread; we don't want you closing those pretty little legs now, do we?” Asmodeus smirks. Satan chuckles, practically snatching the spread bar from him, fastening each cuff onto your legs.

You had completely forgotten that you weren't the only one on the mattress when you felt a hand caress your cheek. 

“I hope you're grateful that we're doing all this work for you," Belphegor said, his other hand diving below to unbutton his belt. He scoots up till his crotch is right in your face. His hand palms his balls underneath his underwear before taking out his hardening cock. “Be a doll, won't you?” You know exactly what he wants as he touches your head, getting you for a taste. Belphegor’s head tilts back as he feels your mouth wrapped around his cock. Bobbing your head up and down, taking it deep just the way you knew he liked it. 

With your tongue swirling around the head, your mouth suckles his tip before taking him down to the base. His cock is squeezed by your throat with each suck.

Your legs quiver when you feel a hand around your throat again. Leviathan collects are done clearing out how well you're taking another demon down your throat. “Cock-hungry slut, look how well-trained you are at taking cock. How come you're not well-trained with me?” Leviathan's hand squeezes your throat as you gag around Belphegor’s cock. “Fuck, keep choking them! Damn throats getting tighter.”

With your choked-out sobs and moans, Satan, who has been grinding his bulge against your core this whole time, finally gives in, pissing out a string of cuss words, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't take it anymore! I'm going to fuck them! I'm going to fuck and feel them cum around my cock!” His hands shook, undoing his pants and sliding them down just enough. Take his cock out. His hard, leaking cock pressed against your entrance, and with one hand, he guided his cock till his head was pressing right against your hole, applying enough pressure to open for him. His other hand slid against your body, occasionally grasping at the ribbons. You squirmed as you felt the edges of the ribbons bite into you as they tightened against your skin.

“Don't struggle if you don't want the ribbons to hurt.” Lucifer scolded. Asmodeus added, “Be a good toy, and let us use you till you break.” You strain your eyes, trying to look to where the voices are coming from, and that's where you see Lucifer in a chair and Asmodeus standing across from the bed, both playing with themselves, Lucifer palming and groping his cock through his underwear and Asmodeus stroking himself, his pants long since abandoned as well as most of his suit.

Your cheek gets a light smack from Leviathan. “Hey! Don't look at them! Look at me! Or do I have to choke you harder?" 

This was all too much with Leviathan's hand on your throat, applying pressure before releasing and squeezing again all the while. Belphegor is now trying to fuck your throat, as Satan is now starting to ram his cock deeper inside, grabbing and clawing at your plush hips. His big demon dick forcing you open makes you take him.

It was all too much! Squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure and pain overwhelmed you so much you couldn't hold back your tears. 

“Fuck, they're crying! That's so hot…” Lucifer hissed, his palming motions now turning into jerking as he fucks his hand. Your legs shake as you can't hold back your orgasm, your screams muffled by the cock in your mouth as you squeeze Satan's cock for all He's worth. 

“Oooh fuuuck, never thought I'd find someone trying to scream with cock in their mouth so hot! Satan snarled, his hips driving into you, chasing his orgasm. 

"I'm going to cum! Gonna fill that throat, swallow it all, take it, all of it!” Belphegor growls, his balls heavy and full of seed slapping against your face.

Satan was not too far behind as his eyes were falling back. “I'm going to come too; we're going to soak you with demon cum! Take it all! Take all we fucking give you!

Belphegor's hand digs into your scalp as he's using your throat for his pleasure. He slams his hips against your face before stealing them. You swallow every last drop of his seed. As Satan slams one final time inside you, your walls suck every last drop of cum out of his cock.

Try not to cough and sputter, as Levi's hand is still around your throat.

Finally, you can breathe as the king of sloth removes his cock from your throat. And the king of wrath finally slips out of the core, watching his cum dribble out of you.

“Let me rest for a bit; I'm okay with watching for now…did way too much.” Belphegor groans as he rolls on the other side of the bed. Belphegor was still hard, but he had his fill. Why would he want to do more when he can just watch the show and get off till you get fucked by multiple people, just like the porno he would watch every night?

“You took them so well; you did so well…my sweet treasure.” Mammon purred with his hand, squeezing your chest and pinching your nipple.

“I bet the stupid whore is hungry for more…” Leviathan growls, his hand moving from your neck to your cheek. Getting into your face, he demanded you open your mouth. Practically forcing it open with his hand, he spits right onto your tongue. “Swallow." He commands, and you obey, having no other choice but to follow these demons every command as you are tied up and helpless.

“Fuck their mouth, Levi,” Beelzebub said, putting a hand on your head, running his hand through your now messed-up hair.

“They would like that, wouldn't they? Are you so much of a whore that you will take cock from any person who will give it to you, hm? Do you want to drink my cum?" Levi asked condescendingly, with a confident smile that made you want to spit in his face. But right now, as Mammon was taking the cops off your legs, preparing to turn you around onto your stomach as his hands were sneaking handfuls of your ass, you did not care.

With your hands tied behind your back, you couldn't provide any support for yourself as your face was shoved against the pillows.

You heard Asmodeus moan, “Mm, what a delicious sight~! I can still see Satan's cum running down your leg, but I bet that that sweet little body of yours can hold more.” Mammon smiles at his colleagues and lets out a devilish laugh. 

“That's the plan. Our sweet gift deserves everything they're given…”

“Spank that ass red," Satan adds. And Mammon is happy to oblige, as his big hand comes down on one of your cheeks hard and fast, a sharp smack fills the room, and it wasn't before long that another one comes down again on you. His big hands are filled with your ass as he spreads you open. He didn't have to prepare for his big size, as you were wet enough for him to slide in with one thrust; despite having Satan, you still stretched around him, letting out a shaky squeal.

Despite not wanting sloppy seconds from your mouth, Leviathan couldn't handle the way you looked right now as he began to unbutton his pants. He took off his belt, fastening it around your neck, using it as a leash and collar. He grabbed hold of the leather, lifting you prematurely before placing another pillow underneath your head. And another one underneath your chest, making sure you are comfortable before fully removing his pants and getting onto the bed.

“This is where you belong…This is your place…underneath beings that are far stronger than you. Being nothing but a fuck slave for demon cock!” Leviathan did not give you the same luxury as Belphegor when he waited for you to be ready; instead, Leviathan immediately began a brutal pace. Forcing you to take more and more of his cock with each thrust, pulling on his makeshift belt leash. All the while, he tugs on your hair. Desperately bucking his hips as much as he can.

Your whole body rocks back on Mammon's cock just to be bounced forward, getting choked by Leviathan's dick. The two demons kept up. The demon of greed behind you occasionally slams his hand down on your ass, making you squeal around Levi's cock. Mammon’s eyes roll back as he feels himself getting close. You're squeezing him home, milking his cock, and the slapping of his skin against yours was too much for him to take.

“You're so good; you feel so good! Doing such a great job for us! Take everything we give you! You deserve everything!" 

Beelzebub opens another gift box, ripping open its ribbon to reveal a vibrator. He smiles as he turns it on; his hand snakes underneath to press it between your legs. 

You squeal and squeeze around Levi's twitching cock and tighten around Memes as your legs shake from the vibrating pleasure and the cock relentlessly pounds into you. Another orgasm rips through you. Your moans alone were enough to make Leviathan cum down your throat while calling out your name. Levi pulls out a little too late. He's still cumming cock, jutting another pump on your face. 

“You're so beautiful, like this…." You think you heard Leviathan say, "You are too cum drunk to even think. 

With Levi now gone and Beel pulling the toy away from you for a moment, Mammon flips you onto your back. Putting your legs over his shoulders, jackhammering down inside you to chase his orgasm, your whole body shook and squirmed as you whimpered broken sentences that were only chuckled and awed at. The huge man above you slammed his hips one more time before stilling, filling you up more with his cum. He let his cock stay deep inside till he was finished before slowly pulling out. Even with how deep he was fucking you, his cum still spilled out of your hole.

Beelzebub licked his lips, watching Mammon off you. “Finally, let me taste you…”

"I've had enough watching..." You didn't even realize Lucifer had approached the bed until you felt him pull you into his lap. “Are you still here, Child of Adam? Surely, this isn't all you can take.” This cock sat between your legs. You unconsciously ground your hips down onto him as he helped you guide him inside. Beelzebub finally climbs onto the mattress, leaning his head forward until his tongue touches your collarbone. Beel turns on the vibrator once again, pressing it between your legs.

“Don't worry about moving. Just sit there and take it," Lucifer murmured, his sharp teeth nipping at your earlobe as he got a good handful on your hips and started to move and grind your body against him. Your walls squeezed and milked him as much as you could, all that delicious cum from the other kings drooling down his cock onto his balls. For a little while, Beelzebub playfully fiddled with the ribbons that stretched all across your body while he licked, sucked, and bit wherever he could fit his mouth.

You felt his tongue glide across your chest, giving extra special attention to your nipple. You watch Beelzebub's cock bob in front of you, your arms struggling against the ribbon bindings, aching to touch.

“Show me those delicious tears again, child of Adam. You cried for Belphegor…Why don't you cry for me too?” Lucifer purred, dipping his head to the nape of your neck before sinking his teeth.

“The best way to make them cry is to make sure they're nice and overwhelmed with pleasure," Beelzebub smirks, turning up the setting. You throw your head back. “B-Beel! P-please! T-too-too much! So sensitive!”

“You scream his name but not mine…I'll have to train your throat again later,” Leviathan growled.

Beel applied more pressure on the toy as he went for your neck. His tongue strips across the sensitive flesh before sucking. All the while, Lucifer sucks and nibbles at some more parts of the other side, his cock sliding deliciously against a sensitive spot inside you.

“Oh God! Oh fuck!" Your whole body shakes as you cum again.

“There is no God here…” Beelzebub grins as the other kings approach closer toward you, laughing coldly.

“No one can save you now! You're going to stay here and take cock for the rest of your pitiful human life.” Asmodeus purrs, stroking his cock with the other Kings slowly stroking. All you can hear is their wet cocks as they prepare themselves for another round with you. 

Asmodeus's smile turns into a dastardly smirk as he turns to the demon of gluttony, “Beelzebub, once Lucifer is done, let's both pick them up and stuff them at the same time. Beelzebub stopped biting at another part of your body to return Asmo’s toothy grin. “I like the way you think, you horny bastard…”

Beel gave you a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling away.

Lucifer, with the new room that Beel gave him, spun you around before you began to bounce on his lap. With only your shaky legs holding him as he grabbed at your hips to support you. Seeing your eyes swollen and tears dried on your face as well as your cock drunk and glazed look in your eye. Whatever restraint Lucifer had left snapped, bouncing you hard up and down on his lap. He wrapped an arm around your back, bracing himself with each thrust. 

Seeing your ruined face, he knew he couldn't last. Lucifer wanted to wring out one more orgasm from you. This is heavy; balls slap up into you. His lips brush against your ear, his sinful words as he nips your earlobe.

“Do you know what you do to me… to us? All these devils are hard because of you. I am swollen because of you.” His tongue glides across your lip before kissing deeply, his tongue tasting yours in a messy, hot kiss that made you clench around him.

“You did this to us. You drive us crazy to the point where all we can think about is filling you with cock and cum. Your soft skin, your tears, and your cute little screams are addictive.” 

“Are you going to cum, sweet child of man?” 

"Are you going to squeeze me like you did the other devils? Is this sweet little hole of yours going to worship my cock?” 

He rolled his hips, grinding through your orgasm as he came with you, crunching his teeth and silencing his moans into hisses. Even though he just came, it wasn't enough. It will never be enough.

Beelzebub stopped you from falling from Lucifer's lap. Grabbing your bound-up wrists before pulling you toward him, he picks you up in his arms as you instinctively wrap your legs around them as Modius comes up from behind, giving you extra support. "Upsy Daisy, don't want you passing out on us…”

“We should hurry. I don't think our precious present can hold on much longer." Asmodeus says, pressing his lips against your shoulder blade. 

"Damn it! I wanted another turn!” Satan snarled. 

“We have all of Valentine's Day to enjoy our gift." Mammon smiled, relaxing against the chair that Lucifer was sitting on. Enjoying the sight of Asmodeus and Beelzebub trying to fit their cocks inside you at the same time. 

“Come on, sweetling. You can do it; I know you can.” Asmodeus whispered once Beelzebub was inside, he squeezed himself in. He not only felt the squeeze of your tight warm walls but also the delectable pleasure of another man's cock sliding against him. Asmodeus didn't even hide how good he felt when his eyes rolled back, and he moaned.

Beel’s mouth was wide open. If he didn't move right now, he was going to burst, so he slid against your velvet walls, making enough room for himself and the other devil.

Asmodeus kept up with Beelzebub, pressing kisses all over the back of your neck. His pathetic whimpers and whines made you clench around the both of them. You are doing so good taking them both. The other devils watching you were just as entranced as the two taking you. Never had they seen you so fucked out and cock drunk. You didn't even know what was happening, as all you did was press yourself against Beelzebub and take it. It was a beautiful sight. The tears are flowing from your cheeks, and drool is running down your face. With the ribbons binding your body, you have entirely given up, completely at their mercy, all of them.

[scandalaciousintentions]

You know when I keep telling everyone I am not back in this fandom and then I keep reblogging the bejesus out of everything I see? I'm not quite buying it either and I must try harder.

But before I do.

This is such a beautiful collection of chapters. This is not ship-bashing; it is relevant to the essay that follows. I'm not personally a fan of Wolfstar and that purely comes from the way I read these chapters, the way I've always read them. (I also accept this is a personal interpretation and I am open to others.)

That said, the way that I have interpreted what we're told is that these two have not been close. Arguably not for years, but I'd go so far as to say that they've been bound together by James alone. There's not just 12 years between Sirius and Lupin in this moment, there is a chasm of distrust, enmity, possibly even fear.

Which is not to say that either one of them is personally afraid of the other. I think for Lupin it's going to be a fear of completely misreading this man for ten years, a fear that becomes introversion, a fear and a distrust of his own instincts on which he can usually depend. For Sirius, it's a little more tangible - the fear that this man will kill him. In this line alone, there is the immediate understanding that the traitor must die and for the first time, we understand that Lupin is, and always has been, ruthless.

But Peter's sudden emergence on that map changes everything. The world stops spinning on the same axis and this is not just a bonding moment; it's a binding moment. The vengeance killing of Peter Pettigrew is going to bind them together for all time. It's going to bring them a hell of lot closer together from now on.

The fact that Harry steps in and stops it throws a spanner in the works for how this relationship moves forward. I am fascinated by what the first interaction post-PoA looks like. It has floated around my head for years. Because, from everything the narrative tells us about a proud and defiant Sirius and a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher literally fleeing confrontation in the closing chapters, it's not going to work.

I love this one particular piece of dialogue precisely because it tells us so much about their relationship. It even tells us exactly where it's headed. And what I love most is that they get there anyway with the act itself never having taken place.

I've been waiting for someone to bring this up for a while. I don't know what gave it away...

"Shall we kill him together?"

Sirius literally dropped that line after twelve years apart from Remus and I think that's such a meaningful bonding activity for them 🤗

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Chapter One: Long Time, No Sea

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel return to Fiji, and Tommy gives you the grand tour of the new hotel.

Chapter Warnings: language, fluff, wedding talk, smut (18+ MDNI), airplane sex, unprotected piv sex, light dom vibes, fingering, food and alcohol consumption, brief mention of OC substance abuse, possessiveness

WC: 6.7K

Series Masterlist

Eight Months Later

You breathed in a deep sigh as you scrolled through your emails in the back of the town car. It was pitch black outside as Richie drove you through the silent streets of Los Angeles to the airport, where Joel's private jet awaited your arrival.

"Don't be checkin' work now," Joel scolded from beside you. When your eyes shifted to him, you scoffed when you saw him doing the exact thing he told you not to do. He glanced up when he heard the noise and smirked.

"I got a company to run. You can relax a few hours til people are awake."

You rolled your eyes, chalking your attitude up to three hours of sleep and very little coffee, then stuffed your phone in your bag.

"It wasn't work, anyway."

"What was it?" he asked, sounding distracted.

"Wedding stuff," you shrugged, letting your gaze drift out the tinted window.

Joel put his phone in his lap and turned to you. "Nadia's buggin' you at this hour?"

Nadia was the highly recommended, very expensive wedding planner Joel had hired. She was wonderful: she had been in the business over ten years and had incredible taste. The problem you kept running into was the fact she was so goddamn detailed. She wanted your opinion on every possible thing, even down to the napkin rings, giving you at least ten different options, most of which looked exactly the same to you.

"I don't think she ever sleeps," you joked.

"What's she askin' 'bout now?"

"Fonts for the menus."

Joel shot you an incredulous look and you giggled. "It's a lot of work planning a wedding for over three hundred people."

"And you're doin' a great job," Joel assured you. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to help you more. I'm gonna be better-"

"No, no, it's fine," you said, cutting him off. But Joel shook his head and pocketed his phone before holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers.

"I'll pick the font. Lemme see."

"You want to pick the font for our dinner menu?" you squeaked. He grinned and nodded, hand still outstretched.

"Can't be that hard. Feels like somethin' I could handle."

You hummed and pulled your phone back out so you could bring up Nadia's email with the attached samples, then handed it over. You bit your lip when Joel squinted and tucked his chin into his chest before relenting and pulling out his glasses.

"You didn't need those to read your emails?"

"I need 'em 'cause all these damn fonts look exactly the same, baby," he murmured while his eyes scanned your screen for a few minutes. Finally, he huffed and shrugged his shoulders before picking one and holding it up. "How's that?"

"Edwardian Script," you read from your phone, then nodded. "Sure. I'll send it back to her."

"Unless you like somethin' else," he began.

"Nope, I love it," you told him as you typed out your reply to Nadia. Then you tucked your phone away and looked at him. "Besides, none of it really matters. I just want you."

Joel smiled and lovingly pinched your chin. "You got me. Always did." Then his lips brushed softly over yours and for a moment, all the stress that had been building up from work and wedding planning melted away.

"We're here, sir," Richie said from the front seat. You pulled away and peered through the front windshield at the dark tarmac where only Joel's plane sat, all lit up.

"You ready to open this damn hotel so we can have ourselves a wedding in a couple months?" Joel asked softly, fingers still stroking your jaw. You grinned and nodded before planting one more kiss on his lips.

"I'd marry you right here at the airport," you said, making him smile wide, "but Fiji does sound a little better, I guess."

Richie parked the town car and immediately jumped out to open your door. You took his hand and thanked him, shouldering your bag while Joel scooted out behind you and shook Richie's hand.

"Keep a good eye on the place."

"Will do, sir."

You threw your arms around Richie's neck and thanked him again with the promise to bring him and his wife something back from the island, then eagerly took Joel's hand so he could lead you to the plane.

A feeling of déjà vu came over you when you greeted the familiar looking pilot and crew. A lot had changed since the last time you found yourself boarding Joel's private jet to head off to paradise. You entered the cabin and dropped your bag on the couch with a tired sigh, hoping that this trip would be a lot less stressful than the last.

It was very early and you were beyond exhausted, so once the plane took off and you got the all clear to unbuckle your seatbelts, you made a beeline for the bedroom to curl up and rest. With a loud yawn, Joel followed, which was how you found yourself intertwined hours later.

When you cracked open one eye, you could tell from the beam of light desperately trying to break through around the circular covered windows that it was later in the morning. The sun had already risen high enough in the sky for it to be bright enough to wake you. It wasn't something you were used to; sleeping in. Even on the weekends, your body was so used to waking up that by seven at the latest, you were tossing and turning. But if you thought you were bad, Joel was worse. He was normally up before the sun. By the time you made your way downstairs, he was typically just leaving the home gym or eating breakfast. So to have him wrapped around you from behind still snoring softly in your ear while the sun shone brightly in the sky, your instinct told you to savor it.

You closed your eyes and leaned back into his hold, burrowing into his chest and soaking up his warmth. With the chaos of the wedding planning and the hotel on the brink of opening in just two weeks, life had been hectic. It was nice to have some time for just the two of you.

It was so peaceful, you nearly found yourself drifting back to sleep, but then you felt Joel's beard tickle your neck. Half a second later, he inhaled deeply and his arms flexed around your middle, tugging you slightly closer. A satisfied groan rumbled in his chest when he woke up enough to remember where you were, and then his lips grazed the side of your neck.

You giggled when his beard dragged across that sensitive spot behind your ear and you felt him smile against your skin.

"Mornin'."

You shuddered at his thick, sleep addled voice. "Good morning," you said sleepily. Your body felt boneless, muscles perfectly relaxed. "How much more time do you think we have?"

With a heavy sigh, Joel rolled back to tap a button on the nightstand behind him. Like magic, a small television quietly emerged from the depths of a dresser situated across the room. Then the screen lit up, showing a tiny airplane arcing over the ocean. On the side of the screen, stats were listed, including how much time was left on your flight.

"Got eight more hours," he said before pressing a soft kiss against your throat. You smiled and closed your eyes when his arms wrapped around you once again, pleased he wasn't in his usual rush to get up and check his phone. But then his hips bumped into you, giving away his arousal, and it dawned on you why he wasn't in a hurry that particular day.

"Do you have any ideas on how we can pass the time?" you asked breathlessly. His fingers began to toy with the hem of your sweatshirt, making you squirm under the covers. Without answering, his hand disappeared up your front. He slid slowly across your belly until he was cupping one breast in his palm, causing you to sharply suck in air through your nose when his thumb brushed over your nipple.

"No bra?"

"I had just rolled out of bed, remember?" you whispered. Joel made a pleased noise behind you before switching to your other breast.

"Can't wait to see you in those bikinis again," he said softly against your ear.

"You see me in bikinis all the time at home," you gasped, eyelids fluttering as he continued to tease you underneath your sweatshirt.

"Ain't the same. You're different at the beach. More relaxed." His lips grazed your shoulder and you whined. You hadn't even realized you were rolling your hips into his as he flicked and rolled your nipples until his other hand flattened out across your stomach to stop you. "You want it bad, huh?" he teased.

You pressed your lips firmly together and nodded. A sigh of relief broke free when he slipped his fingers past your waistband, dipping experimentally through your slit.

"Shit," he hissed, "you do want it bad."

"Joel," you moaned, hand reaching behind to curl around the back of his head. He slipped two fingers inside you, earning a gasp from you both, then slowly began to stretch you open. Every time he withdrew his fingers, he slid them up to your clit, circling it wetly once or twice before diving back inside. As the pressure between your legs grew, each leisurely swirl and thrust pushing you higher and higher, you began to search for his mouth over your shoulder. His lips collided with yours, tongues tangling messily in between your shared moans within the stillness of the cabin.

"Oh, that's it," Joel crooned against your mouth. Your hips were bucking into his hand, chasing your high with little moans that kept getting louder the faster his hand moved. "Give me one, then I'm gonna fuck you so good, you ain't ever gonna wanna leave this bed."

Your orgasm slammed into you, causing your back to arch away from his chest. There was something about the possessive tone in his voice, the authoritative command, assuring you he knew you better than you knew you. He knew what you liked and he knew what you needed. His steady hands were always in control, in every possible way. You loved taking care of him, but you'd be damned if you didn't love it when he took care of you, too.

When he felt your muscles relax and heard a contented sigh leave your lips, he was on you in the blink of an eye. With one quick roll, he had you face down. He reared back and tugged your pants down your legs, tossing them onto the floor before sliding your sweatshirt over your head while you just laid there, still soft and pliant from your climax.

His hands wrapped around your hips, pulling them up while your chest remained pressed against the bed. All at once, he slid his cock inside of you with a heavy groan. You had expected him to fuck you just like that: face resting on the sheets, ass up in the air for his taking, but to your surprise the flat of his hand pushed your lower back down to the bed.

A question formed on your lips but never reached the light of day because he began to move, destroying any chance at finding your voice. His legs bracketed yours, which had been pushed together and stretched straight underneath him, leaving just enough room for his cock to slide in and out of your cunt.

A strangled moan pushed itself past your lips, getting lost in the soft bedding. Joel flopped down, pressing his chest against your back, forearms planted on either side of your head. The angle was so intense and it was nearly impossible to move from the way his body formed a shell around you. All you could do was lie there and take it. Your fingers curled around the plush comforter while his hips rocked against you at a torturously slow pace, forcing you to feel every inch as he murmured filth into your ear.

"How's that, huh? Feel good? This what my girl needed? So full'a me, bet you feel it in your throat." His teeth sunk into your shoulder, pinching your skin at the same time as a particularly hard thrust. It finally made you cry out loud enough that it had him chuckling in your ear, "Flight crew's gonna hear."

It was the last thing on earth you cared about. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed was Joel and what he was doing to pull unfathomable amounts of pleasure from your body.

"S-so go-od," you stammered, eyes rolling to the back of your head while Joel continued to fuck you deeper than he ever had before. You must have looked like an absolute mess. Hair tangled from sleep, now spread out across your pillow in every which way. Eyes all glassy, jaw hung open while you struggled to breathe beneath him, but it wasn't his weight that was stealing all the air from your lungs. It was the slow drag of his cock, forcing you to just lie there and feel.

"I like you like this," Joel rasped in your ear. He began to move a little faster then, hips shifting and angling in such a way that it had your vision blurring and your pulse skyrocketing. "Can tell nothin' else is goin' on in that pretty head other than how good it feels when I'm fuckin' you. Am I right?"

You nodded while lifting your ass just the slightest bit. All you could smell was his skin, all you could feel was his warmth, all you could hear was his deep voice telling you how beautiful you were, how hard you worked and how nice it must feel to just relax and let him take care of you.

His palm slid across the top of your hand so your fingers could lace together, but when he felt the sharp sting of your engagement ring between his fingers, he smirked and started to fuck you a little harder. He fucking loved seeing that ring on your left hand again, but loved it even more that you wore the second ring on your right finger. Call him possessive, crazy... whatever, he didn't care. It could not be any fucking clearer who you belonged to now.

Just then, the airplane hit a small patch of turbulence. The shifting in the cabin caused him to drive his cock deeper inside you, making you gasp and cry out his name.

"Shh, baby," he chuckled, but he kept moving. Your other hand reached back, grabbing a handful of his messy curls, tugging him down into the crook of your neck. His mouth immediately got to work, sucking and biting at the skin there until he left little bruises.

It was overwhelming, to say the least. He was everywhere. His body completely covered yours, trapped between him and the bed, cock buried so deep you weren't sure you would be able to walk out of the room when he was done. And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his lips left your neck to find your mouth, plunging his tongue past your teeth with a groan you felt vibrate against your back.

Your entire body began to shudder when you felt it. That pool of pleasure that had been slowly filling back up was about to overflow. You tried to warn him, but words were hard to come by. Fortunately, his mouth was still seared over yours when it happened.

You might have said his name, or maybe you were just cursing, but either way you knew you were definitely screaming because by the time your orgasm finished crashing over you, your throat felt raw and you were panting for air against his mouth like you had just run a marathon.

"Good girl," he whispered before lifting his head back up. You were grateful for it, the chance to breathe fresh air even while he rammed into you mercilessly for about thirty more seconds, until his body went rigid and he gasped your name, spilling himself deep inside you.

Joel pulled out and sat up, causing your eyes to widen from the sudden loss, and he flipped you back over. His hand caressed your face gently, swiping away tears you didn't even realize were there, as he examined you closely.

"You alright? Was it too much?"

His chest was heaving and his cock was still hard between his legs. He hadn't even given himself a chance to enjoy his release and soften inside you before checking on you.

"I'm good," you rasped, throat still hoarse. Your shaky hand came up to cup his. "Promise. I'm good. Just - holy shit," you whispered, letting your eyes slide closed so you could melt back into the mattress. Joel laughed once he was satisfied you were telling the truth and collapsed next to you.

"You hungry?" he asked casually while unplugging his phone. He bent one leg as he studied the screen, completely naked and unbothered while you were still waiting for your limbs to stop shaking.

"Where on earth do you find the energy?" you asked. His eyes found yours and he shrugged.

"I slept in."

You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief before turning to sit up and gather your clothes. "I'm gonna go wash up," you told him. He made a little noise of acknowledgement as you staggered into the bathroom. When you caught sight of your reflection, you twisted your face in disgust and began to quickly get to work, hoping to make it look a little less like you just had the life fucked out of you before entering the main cabin.

Since you were only a few hours away from landing, you decided to slip on the white linen dress you had picked out. With two fucking rings on your hands, you decided to keep accessories to a minimum and instead just slipped a pair of sunglasses into your purse for later before timidly opening the bedroom door in search of Joel.

As you expected, he was sitting at the table typing away on his laptop. You frowned when you saw he had changed his clothes to a casual short sleeved button down and relaxed khakis.

"Didn't you want to take a shower first?" you asked, sitting across from him. He smirked and shook his head, eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"Nope."

His gaze lifted quickly and he shot you a wink. You laughed and dug around in your duffel bag for a book to read, deciding work could wait.

"What's the plan when we get there?" you asked, leaving your worn paperback on the table in front of you, then reached for a cold bottle of water from the cup holder by the window.

"Tommy's meetin' us at the airport," Joel said, abandoning the keyboard and leaning back into his chair. "He's gonna take us to the hotel. Ain't ready for guests just yet but we're gonna stay in the presidential villa. Wanna take her for a test drive, see if anythin's missin'."

"So, we get the whole hotel to ourselves?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows. Before Joel could respond, a flight attendant emerged from the galley with two plates of covered food. You both made room on the table and she placed them down in front of you.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked.

"No, we're all set," you said, looking up to give her a friendly smile. Joel agreed and she quickly made her way back into the kitchen, and it was only then you realized she had been unable to look either of you in the eye.

"You don't think they heard us, do you?" you whispered. Joel had already begun eating, but around a mouthful of chicken he gave you a look and slowly nodded.

"You weren't exactly quiet, baby," he reminded you.

Your eyes widened and your face instantly grew hot. Pressing your palms against your cheeks, you shook your head and groaned.

"Oh my god, tell me you're joking."

Joel just laughed and took another bite of food. "None of their goddamn business, who cares?"

"I care!"

"Then next time I'll just have to put somethin' in that pretty mouth of yours to keep you quiet."

Your ears burned and you gently swatted at him from across the table, making him laugh. It was sweet, really, to think about the last time the two of you were on his plane heading to Fiji and how different Joel was now. Before, he was gruff and very serious, entirely focused on business and not at all interested in having any fun once you arrived on the island. To see him now with a smile on his face and wearing casual clothes in place of a stiff suit made your chest swell with happiness.

"Have you heard anything from Sarah?"

"Not yet, but I warned her I'd fuckin' know if she had any parties while we're gone," he said, then checked his phone for any possible missed calls or texts from his daughter.

"Joel, she's seventeen and she's got a whole mansion to herself for the next two weeks. She's going to have friends over."

"Friends is one thing, but I ain't havin' any boys sniffin' 'round her in my own house while I'm gone," he said sternly. You hid your smile behind your fork, secretly adoring the way Joel had become so paternal in the past year. "'Sides, she ain't alone. I got staff there 'round the clock keepin' an eye on her and the place."

Joel and Sarah's mother didn't have a very pleasant history. After he discovered she had gotten pregnant, she tried to bait him into marriage just so she could have access to all of his money. Joel broke things off with her and closed himself off emotionally for over a decade. He ended up having a difficult time maintaining a relationship with Sarah, as well, but after some encouragement on your part, they reunited. Progress was slow at first, but you didn't expect anything less. Then Joel found out Sarah's mother struggled on and off with substance abuse, something that kept him awake more nights than you could count. After a particularly long night of Joel tossing and turning, you suggested asking Sarah to move in with the two of you, and while it took some time to get used to a third person in the house, you noticed Joel immediately started sleeping better. Sarah still visited her mother often, occasionally even staying overnight for a weekend here or there, but Joel's mind was at peace knowing she was safe.

"Alright," you said, folding your hands on the table after your plates were cleared. "So Tommy's taking us to the hotel - then what?"

"Was gonna have him show me 'round, check on all the progress, see what need's doin' 'fore next week."

"Next week? The hotel doesn't open for two weeks," you reminded him. He shook his head and glanced at his phone when a notification popped up.

"Soft open is next week, so we only get the place to ourselves for a few days," he said, then cocked an eyebrow before adding, "think you'll be able to behave yourself?"

"Me?" you sputtered with your hand pressed to your chest in mock offense. "I'm an angel, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Joel chuckled and turned his attention back to his laptop while you stared out the window, lost in thought.

"So are my parents staying at The Parador?"

Your parents, who had never left the mainland United States, agreed to a vacation only after they found out all expenses would be paid when you made your plans to return for the grand opening. He had told you at the time he thought your mother would want to be involved in the wedding planning, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was his way of trying to score some points with them.

When you told them the news about your engagement, they were shocked, to say the least. It wasn't the reaction you were hoping for but to be fair, you had hardly given them any time to come around after you had begged your mother to give Joel a chance. Since your big news, they hadn't come out to visit once and any time you brought up wedding plans over the phone, your parents got very quiet before ultimately changing the subject to something else.

Joel shook his head. "Booked 'em a nice villa at The Sapphire. Didn't want them to put up with the growin' pains from a new staff. Wanted 'em to be comfortable."

You studied him from over the top of his computer, heart breaking a little bit at the tone in his voice. He didn't like to let it show, but you could tell it bothered him. Part of you wondered if he booked them a trip so he would get a chance to get to know them better and change their minds.

"That was thoughtful," you said softly. Joel just grunted and continued to work, so you stretched your leg out under the table, nudging his knee with your foot to get his attention. When his eyes flickered back up to you, you tilted your head to the side and said, "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, you know. I'm the one spending the rest of my life with you - not them."

The corner of his mouth twitched and you smiled when he said, "I know. Just want them to know how much I love you, is all."

You knew Joel could come off a little brash at first. Hell, your first impression of him wasn't the best. In fact, it took some time before you could see past that hardened, cutthroat businessman exterior to who he really was underneath.

Although... when Joel met your parents, you saw with your own eyes how hard he was trying. He was warm and inviting the entire time your parents were in his home. Their standoffish behavior didn't make much sense, but you chalked it up to the abundant displays of wealth combined with losing their only daughter to an entirely different lifestyle as their reason, and knew deep down that one day they would understand why you fell in love with him.

"Thought your folks were joinin' us, sweetheart," Tommy said from the driver's seat of a beat up work truck.

"Not for a few more days," you replied, tightly pressing your lips together to keep yourself from squealing when Tommy took a sharp, bumpy turn. Joel was in the backseat next to you, hanging onto the door for dear life. If there wasn't a rip in the leather digging into the back of your thigh, you would have laughed at the expression on his face. The old Dodge truck was a far cry from the luxurious town cars or any one of the hideously expensive vehicles currently in Joel's garage back in L.A.

"Aw, that's nice. Got any plans?"

"Uh-" you squeezed your eyes shut when Tommy hit a pothole, then took a deep breath. "Yeah. I was going to take them into town to eat one night, and show them around The Parador so they could see exactly what it is I'm spending all my time on," you laughed. Joel shot you a quick smile before furrowing his brow when Tommy ran a stop sign. "Maybe see if they'd want to do jet skis or check out the fire dancers. I was gonna leave it up to them, but I know they want to do their own thing, too."

"And they'll be plannin' the wedding, right?" Tommy confirmed, quirking an eyebrow at you over his sunglasses in the review mirror.

"Oh, yeah, duh," you laughed, "that, too."

Tommy grinned and dropped an arm out his window, letting his fingers dance on the warm breeze as he drove up the service road behind the hotel.

"Front's just been paved, don't wanna drive on it just yet," he explained when Joel began coughing from all the dirt kicking up.

Finally, he threw the truck into park, the radio and air conditioning cutting at the same time so you could now hear the distant shouts of workmen and power tools coming from inside the hotel.

"Alright, brother... you ready to finally see what all your money's gotten you?"

Joel kicked open his door and slid out, then turned to extend a hand for you.

When you exited the truck, the first thing that struck you was the sheer size of the resort. The parcel of land Joel bought from Glenn was almost ten acres of literal paradise. Through the massive glass windows that were installed practically everywhere so the guests could enjoy the view, no matter where they were. Amongst all the natural foliage, you knew somewhere was a lagoon that had a lounging area built around it for guests, along with four climate controlled pools and six different restaurants, all of which offered outdoor seating. In addition to all that was a private beach, a tennis court, a handful of manmade waterfalls, and a golf course.

And all of that was just the outside.

"Better be good. Those purchase orders were lookin' mighty pricey the past couple months," he grumbled. You squeezed his hand and smiled up at him as you followed Tommy up to the back entrance of the hotel, your excitement contagious and causing Joel to crack a smile of his own.

"Forgot how damn hot it is here," Joel said, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. Tommy twisted around to hold open the door and stepped to the side, allowing the two of you to enter first.

"You're in luck. AC was turned on last week."

The hotel was two weeks away from the grand opening and one week away from the soft opening, so when you entered the lobby, it was far from the construction site you had remembered from previous video calls. Joel had come out by himself a few times, but you hadn't seen the hotel unless it was through a screen. You realized quickly the videos and pictures didn't do the place justice.

"Two story lobby," Tommy said, pointing up like you could somehow miss the massive, sparkling chandeliers hanging above your heads. "Front desk is tucked into the side next to the doors so the guests experience the beauty of the place right off the bat, 'stead of starin' at a desk with computers, just like you said," he continued as he lead you further into the space. Joel nodded and slowly looked around, examining every sconce and white marble tile for any defects while your fingers trailed over the textured bronze wallpaper lining the entire entrance.

Tommy continued to talk, pointing things out and searching for Joel's approval: the deep teal couches and chairs that scattered around the room. The tropical looking café set across from the front desk that carried more blends of coffee than Starbucks. The spotless white flooring and countertops. He even showed you the bathrooms, making sure everything was perfect and up to Joel's standards.

When Tommy finally saw his brother crack a pleased smile with a firm clap on the shoulder, his face lit up with relief.

"Y'did good," Joel told him before releasing his grip and spinning back around. His next order of business was to introduce himself to the hotel staff, who were all adorned in pressed black pants with a matching black shirt that had a flare of deep teal on their breast pocket which matched the lobby furniture. You smiled to yourself as you followed Joel's lead, shaking their hands before stopping in the kitchen to meet more employees. All of the hard work he had put into this hotel, his dream, was actually paying off.

Afterwards, Tommy led you up to the presidential villa, which was in it's own private wing. While you rode the elevator, he explained how each room had a balcony, two flat screen televisions, pillowtop mattresses, blackout drapes, a safe, and a small kitchen area.

"And that's just what all rooms got standard," Tommy said once he stepped off the elevator and fished out the keycard they handed him at the front desk. "'Course, there's different levels, y'know that."

You and Joel exchanged looks behind Tommy's back while he unlocked the door to your room. Obviously, you knew all of that - especially Joel. He was the one who had final say over every detail. But hearing how excited and proud Tommy felt kept either of you from saying a word.

What surprised you first when you entered the villa was, even though you had taken an elevator up a few floors, you still found yourself looking out at the beach through the spotless glass windows. Tommy said something about a hilly terrain being the reason and how much of a pain it was to build around it, but you hardly heard a word because your eyes were drawn to the huge painting hung behind the soft, white couch. It was an exact replica of the painting Joel had bought you the last time you were on the island. Ellie's familiar brush strokes of soft pinks, blues and whites filled the canvas. You laughed in disbelief before you rushed over to examine it closer, then glanced happily over your shoulder at Joel, who stood back with his hands shoved in his pockets and a pleased look on his face.

"Was hard to keep it a secret but I wanted to surprise you."

You jut out your lower lip and held out your hand for him to join you, your expression softening when you heard the shy tone in his voice. Tommy was across the room, opening up the big glass doors to let in the sea breeze when you took Joel's hand and stood on your tiptoes, giving him a kiss that had his cheeks turning pink.

"I love you," you whispered when you fell back onto the flats of your feet. Tommy began fiddling with the remote for the stereo, talking to himself while Joel gazed down at you adoringly.

"I love you, too."

A year and a half earlier

It had been almost a month without you, but it felt like more. Every breath hurt, he could barely sleep, and forget about focusing on work. It was supposed to be the highlight of his career - obtaining the unobtainable parcel of land in Fiji. Yet he couldn't enjoy it, because his every waking thought was consumed with you.

It was even worse being so far away, back on the island where everything started and ended. Yet he still made sure to pick out the next day's floral arrangement to be sent to your door. It was the only way he could remind you that he was thinking of you, even though you had begged him to stop, he wouldn't, because it was the only way to make sure you didn't forget about him.

Once he picked the arrangement, he emailed it to Liam and with a sigh, dropped his phone onto the table next to his lounge chair.

The sun was beginning to set; casting gorgeous hues of bright orange, pink, and yellow across the sparkling water.

You would have loved it.

He figured it was now or never, so he shucked off his shirt and made his way to the shoreline.

Just like he remembered, the water was warm and crystal clear. He submerged himself up to his shoulders and allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. No matter how hard he tried to relax and enjoy himself, his inner turmoil kept his muscles tense and his mind busy. Why did he have to be such an asshole? Why couldn't he had just spared you both the pain and gotten over his bullshit? You hadn't asked him for much. You just wanted to be let in, you wanted him to trust you with his deepest shame and regrets. But his fear of being judged and losing you was too much.

Ironically, he lost you anyway, so what was the point?

The waves lapped gently over his shoulders and the sound of people packing up their things on the beach drifted across the breeze. He wondered what you were doing at that very moment. Given the twenty hour time difference, it would be around bedtime for you, but the day before. He liked to imagine you getting ready for bed, putting all those different creams on your face and neck before brushing your teeth. He hadn't ever seen the inside of your apartment, so all he could do was remember how you looked getting ready for bed when you stayed with him on the island. You used to hurry into bed and dive under the covers to curl up against him. He smiled to himself at the memory, missing how unexpectedly comforting your presence was to him at night.

Maybe you missed it, too. Maybe you missed it right at the exact same moment.

When he reopened his eyes, the sun had sunk considerably lower and the beach was mostly empty, so he got to work. He walked slowly through the water, using his feet to search for the precious pink seashells to replace the ones he accidentally broke. Every few feet, he felt a cluster of smooth shells with the tips of his toes. It took almost ten minutes, but he finally was able to collect a decent amount. He waded back to shore, arms full amidst the twilight. Once he got back to his towel, he noticed a good portion of the shells were broken or cracked. He tossed those into the sand, only keeping the ones that looked absolutely perfect.

When he was satisfied, he wrapped them carefully in a spare towel and collected his things before heading back to his room.

He wasn't stupid. He knew seashells wouldn't fix everything. But he was hoping the gesture was enough to show you how much he cared.

Maybe it was a start.

Present Day

Joel trailed after you as you drifted from room to room, then grinned when you squealed at the master suite, which was right off the sitting room. He hadn't told you yet, but the presidential villa was going to rebrand into the honeymoon villa. He had created it with you in mind and based on the way you were jumping with excitement when you saw how a private garden and a courtyard filled in on either side of the glass walls surrounding the spa bathtub, he did a good job.

"Joel, this room is insane," you grinned. He stood next to the tub while you skipped down the galley-like closet until you reached the opposite side, turning around in the entryway of the bedroom and bathroom.

"You like it?"

"I love it!"

Joel smirked and nodded before strolling past the tub, into the bedroom. You followed on the other side, staring in awe at the floor to ceiling glass French doors that opened out to the infinity pool.

"I can't believe we get to spend two weeks here," you breathed. Joel walked up behind you, bending so he could hook his chin over your shoulder and wrap his arms around your waist.

"We can come here any time you want."

You giggled when his stubble brushed over your skin, tickling you.

"How about we come back here in a couple months?" you asked, leaning into his hold and letting him sway you back and forth. "Maybe get married or something?"

Joel chuckled into your skin, giving your shoulder a kiss.

"There's nothin' I want more."

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[ariestrxsh]

sub!chris x dom!reader

ᯓ★ content warning: smut, mommy kink, teasing, humiliation, use of vibrator (on chris), strap sucking, gagging, pegging, making a sex tape

ᯓ★ summary: chris begs you to make him go dumb on your strap while on camera

If you don't like the content, don't read !!! I know pegging isn't for everyone, and that's totally fine.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

Sextape

"C'mon, Chris. Hold the camera still. Or else I won't let you cum," you sweetly cooed to the blue-eyed boy sitting in front of you. A series of soft whines cascaded from his pouty lips as you drew circles on his swollen, pink tip that you were relentlessly teasing with your vibrator.

His sweaty palms gripped the camera a bit more tightly as he directed the lens at his lap and what you were doing to him, but he couldn't keep it from shaking. You reduced the intensity of the vibrations as Chris struggled to listen to your directions. "Chris," you said more sternly this time, raising your eyebrows.

"I'm trying, mommy. It just feel so good," he purred. "Please. Turn it back up. I'll be a good boy. I'll hold it steady," Chris begged, peering down at the way you expertly stimulated his cock through the view finder.

You loved how pathetic he sounded when he pleaded with you. How could you say no? You gave in, giving him what he wanted and switching it back to a more intense setting as you watched him squirm around.

One of the things you loved most about Chris was how confident and assertive he was in his every day life, but the second it was just the two of you behind closed doors, his submissive side would come out to play. All of a sudden, his cool, calm, and collected facade would crumble, and he'd turn in a whiny, needy, and desperate little thing.

He'd never admit to his brothers or his friends the activities the two of you did in secret, but he loved them. He adored the way you'd take your bullet vibrator and gently run it up and down his length. He couldn't get enough of the way you tugged on his pretty, brown hair or the things you'd whisper into his ear. He loved when you'd get out the strap and have your way with him.

He savored it all so much, in fact, that he'd asked you if the two of you could film it. He'd practically begged for it. Of course, you obliged, unable to say no to him anytime he turned on his submissive charm. You loved the idea of making a video with him, one he'd watch back during his solo activities when you were unavailable.

You were surprised, though. "Aren't you worried Matt or Nick might find it? Or one of your friends?" You'd asked, wrinkling your brow with a puzzled expression on your face. "I'll keep it somewhere safe. No one will ever know," he'd responded, more focused on the reward of filming it and less focused on the possible consequences.

That's how the two of you ended up here - with your favorite toy resting against the sweet boy's tip while he practically dug his fingernails into the sides of the camera as he struggled to keep it stable. You took the vibrating object and started slowly running it up and down a prominent vein on the backside of his shaft.

When you returned to his sensitive head, a sharp whine slipped from his lips as his cock twitched. His big, round eyes flicked up to meet yours, and he gave you the most precious look with tinted pink cheeks, slightly parted lips, and his expression steeped in desire.

"Give me that," you ordered, taking the camcorder from his trembling hands. You pointed it at the blue-eyed boy, not wanting his gorgeous, fucked out features to go undocumented. "Look at you. Such a pretty boy," you cooed, peering down at him through the view finder as he screwed his eyes shut and formed his lips into a perfect o shape. "You look so handsome on camera."

You tilted the lens down at the pearly liquid gathering at his perfect slit. You could tell he was getting close, but you weren't ready to let him cum just yet. You slowed the speed of the vibrations, watching Chris' expression fall as you withdrew the sensation. "Mommy, why are you always so mean to me?" He pouted.

You took the toy and set it off to the side, ignoring his question. "Get on your knees," you directed him as you stood to your feet, pointing the lens of the camera at the blue strap you had harnessed to your body. "Suck it for me, baby," you purred, tilting his chin up with your free hand. He parted his lips to take you in, but he hesitated for a second.

"What's wrong, baby? You love this part," you sweetly asked him, running your manicured nails along his jawline. "Can I please touch myself while I suck on it, mommy?" He wondered. "Sure, you can, but you're not allowed to cum, baby," you replied in a serious voice, and he eagerly nodded. His tongue darted out and he flitted it across the tip.

"Good boy," you murmured, slipping the end of the strap into his mouth as he wrapped his lips around it. His fingers snaked around his shaft, and he started slowly stroking it as he bobbed his head up and down. "Wow. Look at you. You're doing such a good job. You might even suck cock better than I do," you whispered.

He slipped you out of his mouth for a moment and shook his head. "No way, mommy. Not even close," he replied before popping you back into his mouth, knowing that if he had agreed with your original comment, he'd most definitely be punished.

You let out a chuckle, adoring how much control you had over him in these moments. He'd do and say anything to please you. "You take it so well, though, pretty boy," you sweetly answered him, placing your free hand on his head as you drove your hips forward at a rougher pace, eliciting a soft gagging sound from the boy on his knees in front of you.

His hand stroked his cock more fervently as he choked on you, a look of pleasure written on his face as he opened his throat, graciously taking you deeper. You smirked down at him, tightening your grip on his hair and tugging on it as you fucked his pretty mouth, a bit of drool gathering in the corners of his lips.

"Oh, my god, Chris. You were made for this," you commented, looking into his teary bedroom eyes that were fixed on the lens of the camcorder. Your gaze flickering between the real life vision that was playing out in front of you and the perspective through the view finder. "You could be a star."

He sucked on it for a few more minutes, moans escaping him as he tried to keep himself from finishing too early. He switched off between peering up at you and the camera lens as he hollowed out his cheeks, sliding his lips up and down your length.

"Okay, pretty boy. Get on the bed and get on all fours," you demanded, tapping the tip of his nose with your pointer finger in a teasing manner. "Yes, mommy," he replied, his eyes growing wider and his face beaming as he realized you were finally going to give him what he so desperately craved. He turned around and crawled onto the bed.

You opened a bottle of lube with one hand, applied it to your strap, and positioned yourself at his opening. "I made sure I was ready for you, mommy," Chris mumbled, gazing back at the camera. You knew that meant that he must have had some fun with his dildo before he'd come over, and imagining it was enough to have your arousal slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh.

Your lips curled into a smile, and you made sure to capture Chris' reaction as you entered him from the back, his eyes screwing shut and his face contorting in a look of pleasure. His expression softened after the initial stretch and after you'd started gently rocking your hips.

Soft whimpers filled the air as he threw himself back into you, arching his back and tipping back his head at the sensation. His right hand reached up to soothe his aching cock, beginning to move his closed fist up and down his shaft.

You'd bent Chris over many times, but there was something about this particular time that escalated the whole experience. You weren't sure if it was just the way Chris looked on film in the soft lighting, all his features enhanced by the clearness of the image, or if it was the fact that he was really leaning into his desperation, almost putting on a show, and really exaggerating his body movements and the sounds he made.

"You fucking love this, don't you, baby?" You mumbled, admiring the perfect curve of his spine and the way his ass jiggled with every thrust. "I do, mommy. I love being used by you," he whimpered, peering back at you and the technology in your hand.

"I know you love that, sweet boy, but I was talking about being on camera. You just love it, don't you?" He slowly nodded, gripping the sheets beneath him with his free hand. "Good boy. You look so fucking good getting fucked on video," you replied, knowing how much he was getting off on it.

There was something about being recorded - being in the spotlight and being so vulnerable - that drove him wild and made him even more daring. "Give it to me harder, mommy. You know I can take it," he begged in a subservient voice.

You raised your eyebrows at him, knowing this was usually the roughest he could stand, but you couldn't say no to him, looking back at you with his submissive eyes. You nodded as you railed him harder, driving your strap deeper and hitting his pleasure spot over and over. It felt good for you as well, pressure being put on your clit every time you snapped your hips forward.

You could tell Chris was nearing the edge, moans and profanities pouring from him as he went dumb on your silicone cock. "Come on, baby. Smile for Nick and Matt when they find this," you teased him. He snapped his head around, glaring in your direction.

"Hey! That's - that's not - " Chris struggled through his sentence, every thrust of your hips jolting his body forward. "That's not funny," he finally managed to say, making eye contact with the camera before his jaw dropped, and a pretty sound escaped his lips.

You tilted the camcorder back down at Chris' perfectly shaped ass as you delivered a harsh smack, leaving behind a red hand print. He yelped in delight as you slammed into him over and over, his palm brushing against the tip of his dick as his strokes became faster and messier.

"Mommy, I'm gonna cum!" He exclaimed, throwing his head back, arching his spine, and sending his hips back onto you. "Cum for mommy," you softly cooed in response. "Cum for the camera." A smirk tugged at the edge of you lip as Chris came undone for you, his cum spilling from his tip and soaking the sheets beneath the two of you as he finished.

"Good boy. That's it," you gently purred, slowing down your thrusts as Chris slumped over, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as he came down from the whole experience. He rolled over after you'd pulled out of him, a satisfied smile plastered on his face as he tried to look into the camera, fucked out of his mind.

"You did so good, baby," you aimed the camera at his spent cock and the mess he'd made on his abdomen as well as the spot on the bed next to him. He chuckled, covering himself with his hands and becoming a bit embarrassed about how into it he had been, being the star of the video.

"Okay. Kiss the camera, pretty boy," you teased him, shoving the lens into his face, very clearly poking fun at him and his brothers and their early YouTube days when Matt would kiss the camera as their outro. He chuckled and rolled his eyes, still catching his breath. He finally did as you said, raising his head, pressing his lips to the lens, and making a dramatic kissing sound before you ended the scene.

After you and Chris cleaned up and got dressed, the two of you sat at the edge of your bed and played it back. It was a cinematic masterpiece. The lighting was perfect. Chris' moans came through so distinctly, the microphone even picking up his soft pants and subtle tonality changes as he got closer. "Fuck. I know this was your idea, but I kind of want a copy," you smirked, staring down at the video and how pathetic Chris looked and sounded.

"Ah, I think having two of these floating around in existence is a little too risky for my taste," Chris responded, his cheeks turning pink as he grabbed the camera from you. "You can borrow it whenever you want, though," he teased you. "Oh, is that right?" You asked, raising your eyebrows at him before playfully tackling him and taking the camera back.

"Maybe I'll hold onto it, but you can borrow it whenever you want, though," you mocked him, repeating it in the same patronizing voice he'd used when he'd said it to you.

[lamb-teaa]

` Doppelgänger Curse

( Experimental Draft Part 1 )

Your life has been fairly normal.

Average parents, average friends, average job - plain yet calm and simple life.

But who would've thought it all came crashing down on you one day when you met her.

A non-Evolver like yourself had always placed your trust and faith in the Hunters of the city, especially during an unexpected Wanderer attack. But the moment your eyes met hers as she pulled you behind her as a shield, the world around you shifted in an instant.

You would've merely chalked it up to coincidence, a similar look-alike, a stranger with an identical face...

.. If it weren't for the fact that the moment she took your hand, rushing both of you out of the building, a strong jolt of electricity shot through your brain, flooding with foreign yet familiar memories in an instant.

Love and Deepspace. Evol. Aether Core.

The sharp pain had you gasping for air as you held your head tightly, you could hear the Hunter's worrying voice as she crouched in front of you, her words faded in the background as you slowly and shakily lifted up your head to look at her.

Then your eyes caught sight of a familiar man behind her.

Love Interest.

Your life has never been the same since then.

She was as stunned as you, but more so she looked quite delighted to see you and began rambling on about how identical you looked to her - whereas you still grappled with the memories of your past life while simultaneously struggling not to go into a panic attack whenever you saw her.

× × × × ×

What would've been thought of as a fateful yet short encounter turned into an unnerving coincidence as you find yourself bumping into Miss Hunter more often than not.

You couldn't really avoid her, didn't have the heart to honestly, given she had quite literally saved your life and unexpectedly she took a fondness for you. A fondness akin to a long lost family - even though you and her both knew that neither of you had any blood relation.

But she was so fond of you, so much so it ended up getting the unwanted attention of a certain man.

Miss Hunter's chosen love interest.

...Or rather, your previous life's chosen love interest.

Although living your new reality up until now, you don't actually know Miss Hunter and her beloved's actual relationship status after meeting her.

Even as she began hanging out in your life more, she never uttered much about him and you weren't the type to pry.

But you weren't blind to the affection he showed around her, from the impromptu gestures to the warmest of smiles he looked at her - you could tell how much he loved her.

If you were back in your previous life, holding onto your phone as you read the sweet interactions between him and her, undoubtedly you'd feel envious and begin punching your pillow and whining along the line of 'why can't it be meeee!'

But now, seeing him real and tangible and terrifyingly surreal, you could only hope he remained his focus on her and not you.

Why?

You liked him in a fictional form rather than in a reality's sense - which is most likely why you had a difficult time liking real men back in your old life.

Because fiction wouldn't harm you.

But this new reality would.

Especially when you knew everything about him.

× × × × ×

Your interactions with him so far are, you'd say, admirably respectable to say the least.

Although you were initially worried in the beginning when Miss Hunter wasn't around or unfortunately had to leave you and him behind when she had to rush for her mission or other matters, you were relieved that he didn't spare much attention on you.

On the contrary, he had expressed his gratitude because Miss Hunter had been livelier since befriending you. You likewise reciprocate the mutual friendship, from both her and him.

However it's still unfortunate when on some accidental occasions, he'd mistake you for her.

"I got you the new plushie you've always wanted."

"...I don't collect plushies."

"That's strange, I thought you'd be out on a mission today."

"...I'm not a Hunter."

"I heard the escape room increased their difficulty levels. Want to try it again?"

"...When have I ever been one?"

"Didn't you have an appointment today? I remember someone keeps forgetting her regular checkups."

"...I don't have Protocore Syndrome."

"Where are you going? That's the wrong direction."

"...This is the direction to my house."

The immediate freeze-up followed by an averting guilt-ridden gaze and a small apology, you couldn't even be mad at him even if you wanted to.

But you can't help but feel annoyed and frustrated.

It's one thing to share an identical face to her, but it's another to have a similar voice and even certain habits and slight mannerisms to her and you can't help but wonder, could it be your fault?

You definitely did customize her, who's supposed to be the player's avatar, to appear identical to you and you wryly thought perhaps it ended up manifesting in this new life of yours. And the only difference you can take a slight solace is that you both didn't have the same name.

… Because you gave your nickname to her in-game instead.

But still, to this extent it is just damn ridiculous

Slowly and surely, you retract yourself from him as much as possible. Even when she asked you out for another hangout together, you'd make sure it's a girl's girls only hangout because you have had enough of being mistaken for her by him.

In your mind, it's for his own sake.

And your sanity's sake as well.

× × × × ×

You remembered playing Love and Deepspace and held deep sympathy towards the MC. To die and reincarnate with no memories and her beloved either died or disappeared because of her.

An endless cycle.

A pitiful ending.

A cruel twist of fate.

Perhaps it was a blessing for her to not remember any of her past lives because you apparently had all the knowledge and memories against your own will, having to carry another person's secret on your own.

A placeholder of her memories.

And for what reason?

You would never know.. But it's cruel, to both her and you.

In your last life you would've joked about Infold being the catalyst of evil to her life and perhaps by some dark magic they possess, to your life too.

But you can't even crack a smile nor laugh anymore. This new life, new reality of yours, is far the cruelest in your entire memory.

A cruel confusing reality that had left you trembling when the dreadful news reached your ears.

'She's gone'

Your Hunter twin, your dear friend, your mirror sister - your doppelgänger other half, had succumbed to a fatal injury during a search and rescue mission.

Leaving the once joyous life she once brought to everyone around her.

Leaving her beloved who ended up spiralling into a heartbreaking rage.

…Leaving you to face the aftermath of her death.

× × × × ×

You remembered how shocked everyone around you was when you brought Miss Hunter into your life all those years ago.

As much as you didn't want to be involved with her, but that one dinner invitation as a token of gratitude for saving you had changed your life forever.

Your parents' astonishment immediately turned heartwarming as even they treated Miss Hunter like their own daughter. You were their only child and given how you knew she was an orphan, you actually didn't mind that your parents treated her as their own - and naturally you did see her as a sister figure. Although the talks about you both being the twins they would've envisioned to have, honestly made you feel torn between wishing she was your real twin sister vs the confusing anxiety rising in the pit of your stomach when you recalled how her life was like.

Your friends and coworkers had their own mixed reactions. Some were appalled and in complete disbelief while some were more dramatic and exaggerating that most of them always commented how they couldn't tell you and her apart. And the fact your parents actually entertained the idea of taking a DNA test between you and her once before only to come back not a match, one of your friends even joked about being doppelgängers and how you two should duke it out according to old folklores. You allowed yourself to indulge in their playful notion with a smack on their heads, despite struggling to push down the uneasiness you felt at being so similar and so identical to her.

And then… then there was him…

You remembered the intense stare and the unsettling silence, like he was analyzing you - reading you. Although it was a mere fleeting gaze before he shifted his attention back to her, you could still feel his eyes boring holes into your back when you weren't looking.

You were relieved, so so relieved when he kept his sole attention on her, even when the three of you hung out together. Even when in the beginning you could tell he felt wary around you as well, but seeing how much Miss Hunter enjoyed your company, he too began easing up a bit.

And that's when the confusion began.

The many times he mistook you for her, the many times he called out her name instead of yours, the many times he unconsciously gravitated closer to you when she wasn't around - it was stressful and aggravating to have to endure.

You thought you could still brush it off, pretend to be oblivious about it and evidently so it wouldn't effect you as long as she was still around to ground him back to reality.

But now she's gone.

And that's.. that's when the nightmare started.

teaa’s end note: this ficlet can be seen as in any of the Love Interest, basically a 5-in-1 scenario between reader and the LIs so hopefully it's not too confusing!

additional note: kinda on the fence on continue writing this but at the same time i needed to let this out so do tell if i should continue with it. thank you for reading and hope you'll have a lovely lovely day!

[alalalalaalalalviraaaaa]

summary: valentine's day? this is nerdjo's perfect chance! pt.1

song list: (hella short cuz this is short)

espresso- sabrina carpenter

obsessed- mariah carey

kiss it better- rihanna

"i-i... well um, i think you're uhh, very... pretty... and i um, you'r-"

"so you mean i'm hot and you can't stop staring?" you say in a judgy voice, unable to comprehend what's going on— or 'flabbergasted' as what the dumbass in front of you calls it. "listen up, nerd: i know i'm a looker, and i don't need someone like you to remind me of that, mmkay? so scram." you say, pushing past like what? the 13th dumbass? and you're not even two hours in.

you look to your side, just to be met by satoru, a loyal puppy. even though he was the smartest, he did your homework for free, unlike the other nerds who'd grown some balls thinking they had a chance with you— except for the chance to finish your essays.

pretty face adorned with baby blue eyes, satoru wasn't that ugly. in fact, he wasn't ugly at all. just that... he was a nerd. with nerdy glasses, nerdy clothes, and thick, nerdy books in his hands 24/7. flustered, stuttering mess. hey, but he looks so cute wrapped around your finger, ain't that right?

"well," he chuckles and pushes his glasses up with an index. damn, 5 inch fingers? what about his co- "you're getting a lot of confessions, huh?" he shakes his head head slightly and walks alongside you.

"mhm... it's exhausting." you say tiredly, with a hint of smug in your voice. "oh, and did you finish my assignment? need to hand it over next period." you inquire, expecting the work. satoru was never late to anything. punctual, perfect, and what not? would be your mom's dream if you brought him home.

"oh, yeah! i did it for you, and i guarantee you'll get an A!" he says proudly, looking over at you.

"uhh.. okay, now hand it over?" you say with a bit of attitude, your hand open as you observe him scrambling for it in some bag. "here! here is it!" he hands it to you like some sacred treasure. you look at the paper, looking at what he wrote before you catch a glimpse of red and some scrunching of wrappers as he zips the bag up. your eyebrows furrow as realise what it is. roses. and chocolates. who the fuck is he giving that to?

"what's that?" you ask sternly, looking up at him, the assignment completely forgotten. "the thing in your bag. who's that for, huh?" you push him against a wall, quickly pinning him.

"w-what do you mean? i-i don't know what yo-"

"the roses. and chocolates. in your bag right now, who's that for, eh? some other nerdy slut? that blondie cheerleader? psst- she won't accept it, cut it out. no one would." you say harshly, not a single bit jealous. scoff, you've never been jealous in your life.

a flicker of emotions flash by his face and then it settles to a one of annoyance.

"not even you?" he says, a hint of smugness in his face.

"what?" you say, now truly 'flabbergasted'. what does he mean by that? there's no way he's...

"well, since no one would accept me... i guess you won't get those." he signals to the bag with his eyes and looks back into your eyes deeply. a full blown smirk adorns his face, the 'next period' completely out of mind.

"wait, i didn't mean that, come on!" you retorted. how could he speak to you like that? you were the famous y/n, who would not confess to you? you take the roses and chocolates out of his bag, and shove it into his hands. "now do it, properly. say how much you love me and what you find hot about me."

"i know you have guys all over you all the time, but they're all just desperate and weak. i ain't like them. i'm confident and i know what i want. and what i want is you. you're absolutely hot, and nobody else is gonna have you. so yeah, i want you, and i'm not takin' no for an answer."

lips crash and feelings form, you taking the first move. tongues moving and doing more to express more than words. you both knew you both wanted this. he switches positions and puts a leg in between yours, making it unable for you to escape. his thigh rubs against yours and he gropes you, out in the hallway, where anyone could see. but no one was around, and that was all that mattered (you as well). he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

"y/n, please... i need you so much right now."

pt.2

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Rites: Valentine

Same-sex relationship is still illegal in my country and punishable with prison term, that's why me and my boyfriend always have to lay low in public and even also took some extra measures in private to ensure our safety. But, for Valentine's Day, we always did something special for the past 2 years and we absolutely planned to do it again this year. Last year it was two stereotypical American college football jocks, this year.....well, we wanted something different

We stumbled upon this opportunity during our research about moving out from our country and settle in an entirely different one. They helped people to relocate for short-term, like quick break from daily living, to long-term such as a complete change of life. Was it the alcohol or what that clouded our judgment back then, but we followed through the procedure back at that day from that shady website and found ourselves the following morning not next to each other and in a completely different country altogether. It was chaotic but we managed to found each other and have the best sex of our relationship to that date before all in a sudden ripped away from the two fine dadbod to return to our ordinary life when the time was up

This year, we're much more well-planned and prepared as we decided to go to Brazil to celebrate our 3rd Valentine together. Spotting that Valentine falls on Friday this year, we also requested a return back to our body by Sunday evening in our country timezone because we still need to go to work on Monday after all

"Ready?"

"Always. Directly DM me, okay?"

"Sure thing, babe,"

"Okay, good night,"

---

I know it's our third time doing this, but it's always giving me such chills to open my eyes and found myself to not be in bed but actually in the middle of doing something inside a completely different body. We did mention to the agency to land us inside fit, 21-35 years old age group Brazilian men, but the weight of it really only hit when you experienced it, and it's certainly true for this one because this guy I'm in is thick!

It's Friday morning here in Rio, and I'm inside this huge tatted hunk named Gonzalo, his buzzcut and overall style makes him look very intimidating but there's a charming side to this handsome stud that I know I won't be able to resist if he flashes his smile to me. A small dog on a leash that I held added another element of surprise because I'm terrified of dog and I really cannot touch dog but I think Gonzalo here has no problem with it, right? I quickly take a selfie of myself and directly send the picture to my boyfriend's Insta as Gonzalo's insta is accessible anyway. Ohhh....he's typing right away, so he logged in to his account already huh......I wonder how he looks like

"Morning, handsome stranger. Just finished with my morning run, I'm reeked. Name's Joao,"

Fuck me, he's looking like a snack! Gonzalo's memory is filled with women and these repeated names of Carla that appeared in a lot of the memory, a girlfriend of Gonzalo apparently, but sorry to that woman, boyfriend is not going to celebrate Valentine's Day with her this year. I started to add my own input to Gonzalo's mind and make this body heated for the snack that is Joao on my screen, as I type my reply stating my interest to come over to check out how reeked he is. This two dudes might not actually know each other, but we don't really care about all that because what mattered for now is the fact that my boyfriend is inside of that man and I want to give him the love and fucking he deserved for his Valentine's Day

Once I receive the detail of his apartment location and another sultry selfie of his already taking off his musky cap and sweaty tanktop, I'm headed his way with the dog coming along with me.

The temperature in Rio is not that different with our hometown, so I find no problem strutting around over here through the walkways to the apartment located around 25 minutes walk from Gonzalo's residence. The people is definitely a lot more diverse and wearing a much-more revealing clothes compared to my hometown, but really, my mind just wandered to the idea of my boyfriend inside that taut Brazilian twunk, probably still sweaty with almost no clothings on already waiting for me. The colors of the street, the sight and senses of a new city, everything becomes secondary as I can feel the throbbing meat is accustomed to its owner's gay thoughts and just ready to be released from its cotton prison.

When I finally ring the bell of his apartment unit, the door opened quickly to the sight I simply cannot resist. I instantly lunged at him for a kiss and before long, we're already stripped naked from all our clothings as we consummate our Brazilian outings right here in this apartment while the sun shines nicely on us and the neighbors clearly can see us fucking each other but not gonna call police on us

[otome-dissection]

Dude I can't Luka's expressions in wiege fuck me up so bad all the parallels between Luka now and himself as a child get me so fucking bad like:

The wiege MV (for the mostpart) is about going back to the beginning. It's about the in-betweens we didn't get to see. It's about the journey and it's about all the small moments that built all the characters (most importantly Hyuba and, imo, Mizi) up into what they came to be. For better or for worse, Hyuna and Mizi both grew up so far from what they used to be, went through the whole spectrum of experiences that humans in their position could possibly have, and its shown by the wide range of scenes/experiences/flashbacks they have just how much they've lived.

Meanwhile Luka, who is, objectively, on top of everything, far above what Hyuna, Mizi, and everyone else could've been or ever was, is by far the most stagnant as a person. Where we see Hyuna and Mizi go through all the motions of loving and losing and loving again (and losing again), Luka has always been stuck on Hyuna, and the second he sees her everything he's built up to is all thrown to the wind without a second thought, without any fanfare, because nothing for him as changed.

Internally, Luka's still sitting against that tree in the garden and watching someone else grab his hand, Luka's still watching Hyuna count with his fingers and making him laugh for the first time ever, still clinging to her arm, still crossing the grass field to reach her.

Even years later, even as an adult, he's still looking at her like she's his salvation. When he sees her again on the stage he looks at her like he's just found his way back home after far too many years away from it, and when that gun is pointed at his head to stop him he looks at it like he's wondering why he's not allowed back inside.

And then when he looks at Hyuna more and remembers the moments with her that he's been clinging onto more he forgets about it entirely. And then you know what happens from there. I'm sickkkk

The fact that a lullaby. A Fucking Lullaby, and presumably a song that most if not all kids of Anakt know and learned when they were still young (see: that scene of the main 4 singing it) was the song choice for this video. The fact that seeing Hyuna, just seeing her again like that is what brings that lullaby back, a melody from the beginning of it all that should be so far beneath Luka by now, but isn't. I can't bro.

Luka, live with love. Or whatever. Augh I don't even know

[sugurusfavemonkey]

say you'll be my darlin' - kento nanami (1/2)

mosaic ceilings, painted tiles on the wall i can't help but feel somewhat like my body marred my soul handmade beauty sealed up by two man-made walls when's it gonna be my turn?

valentine's day special summary: you've never had a valentine, but kento intends to change that

Some may say Kento Nanami is a reserved man, perhaps even aloof. Both sentiments are easily endorsed due to his unwavering straightforwardness and tendency to avoid certain impracticalities. And still, his detachment and bluntness weren't nearly enough to stop him from falling.

He tried, he really did, to keep his emotions in check: compartmentalized and separated from his work life, but nothing could have prepared him for the whirlwind that you brought forward within him. When it came to you, that task was easier said than done.

You were never put off by his stoicism, quite the opposite. You saw his bluntness as honesty and his sobriety as a virtue. Never mind the fact that you found his candor amusing more often than not: his sarcasm easily brought laughter out of you, a chuckle when you were accompanied by others, or sometimes giggles you would try to hide behind your hand. Nanami found each of your reactions charming and if you saw the corner of his own lips lift into a subtle smile and his eyes soften behind the lenses of his glasses as he stored the image as a souvenir in his brain? No, you didn't.

Where typically Nanami would have no problem focusing wholly on his work, a small portion of his brain was constantly thinking back to you. How you've managed to steal all that space and become permanently etched onto his normally single-minded psyche no one could tell.

It didn't help that his infatuation had taken a more physical turn as of late. The curve of your smile, the way your nimble fingers played with the cuff of your shirt, the glow in your eyes... Every aspect of you had Nanami completely enraptured. He had to restrain himself, honeyed eyes ensnared to your every move, hands aching to feel your skin, arms yearning to hold you, desire burning like molten lava through his veins.

There was no denying it, Kento Nanami was completely and utterly in love with you. Now, if only admitting that was as easy as it had been falling. Instead, words failed him for your presence had him feeling like a teenager who had to hide under a thick fringe of hair all over again.

The opportunity to finally confess his devotion (or at least an idea of how to shape the admission) arose on a particularly slow Wednesday.

One of the perks of having his eyes constantly seeking you out was recognizing the faintest changes to your demeanor. Nanami immediately noticed how your posture sagged slightly, the furrow in between your brows, your frequent sighs, the mug of coffee left untouched slowly going cold, even the way your smile didn't quite reach your eyes that morning. It bothered him profusely to know something was causing you torment to an extent his own mood was diminished.

"Something wrong?"

"Huh?" You looked up at the sound of Nanami's inquiry, your brows furrowing even further.

Your eyes got momentarily lost in the flex of his exposed forearms as Nanami dropped the paper he had been reading through on his desk and followed by removing his signature glasses to reveal enthralling syrupy hazel eyes focused solely on you, likely intending to give you his full attention.

"You seem... preoccupied today."

That gave you pause. The sentiment Nanami expressed - the articulated concern - wasn't unusual. His uncanny ability to be acutely aware of your wavering moods easily contrasted with his habitual detached persona. Sometimes you wondered if he was genuinely worried or merely being polite.

"You know me so well," you chuckled under your breath, gaze wavering. With how easily you got lost in his eyes it was challenging to keep up the eye contact when they were unconcealed like that. You sighed, "it's nothing important, don't worry about it."

He tsked condescendingly, "If it's bothering you that means it is important."

You nearly snorted at that, not because his declaration was funny but because you didn't have to look up to know it was accompanied by that skeptical and judging expression of his. You did look up anyway, and your next words jumped out of you before you could think them through, "How are you even real?"

Despite his guise, Nanami had never once been mean to you. On the contrary, he always seemed to have words of encouragement ready for you. You wished more people took notice of this side of him.

"I'm sorry?" His confused frown and slight tilt of the head was nothing short of adorable. You smiled and shook your head dismissively before propping your chin on your hand as you rested your elbow on the table in front of you.

"I was just thinking about this Friday," you explained with a small shrug as the fingers of your other hand tapped against the wood rhythmically.

His low hum carried a touch of raspiness characteristic to his voice as he regarded you contemplatively, most likely expecting you to further expand your line of thought.

You succumbed under Nanami's unwavering perusal and eventually unraveled your inner turmoil:

"it's just... I've never had a Valentine," you paused to gauge his reaction, eyes flitting over his face for the slightest change in expressing and opting to continue when there was none, "on Valentine's Day."

Maybe there was a slight twitch to his brow or maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you (for he remained just as still as a statue), but Nanami gave you no other indication he had even heard your outburst. He was definitely judging you. You slid down your seat, burying your face in your hands.

Nanami felt his hands twitch, the need to reach out and comfort you almost too much for him to bear.

"Fuck, how pathetic is that?" You laughed deprecatingly, peeking at him through your fingers, "That probably sounds like such a silly concern to you. I shouldn't have annoyed you with it. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. That does not sound silly. Or pathetic. Like I've said, if it's troubling you, it's a legitimate concern." the deep and rather stern tone he used had you sitting up, mouth slightly agape. "I can't help but wonder though... how come you've never had a valentine?"

"What do you mean?"

Nanami leaned back on his chair, crossing his legs and bringing his hands together on his lap and a shiver ran down your spine as his gaze glided over you from head to toe before returning to your face.

"That outcome just seems rather unlikely. Objectively speaking, you have a lovely personality and you're obviously a very attractive person."

You gaped at him, unsure there had ever been another time he had outwardly complimented you like this. Sure he would sporadically praise you for a job well done or on your improvement, but never something so personal. And then you were laughing because you'd rather not unpack whatever he could have implied with that, less it drove you crazy.

"You really are too sweet, Nanami," you pretended to wipe imaginary tears once your laughter died down. "I think as a child and through my teenage years I went unnoticed and then as an adult it was mostly a matter of timing. I'm always single this time of the year. Just unfortunate coincidences I guess," you shrugged.

"Well, who's to say this year won't be different?" his piercing gaze finally relented when he spoke, legs uncrossing and hands searching for his glasses. It was clear the conversation was over.

"I doubt that," you snorted. "Thanks for acknowledging my concern though. I do feel better about it." For what it's worth, the weight on your chest felt less heavy, both thanks to his accidental pep talk and uncharacteristic positivity.

"I'm always glad to be of service" to you left unsaid.

"Anyway," you clapped your hands together before using them as leverage to push yourself up and started picking through your belongings, even though you knew you would need none of that. "I better get back to work 'cause I'm not being paid to lazy around. You're an angel, Nanamin. See you around!"

He was definitely avoiding looking as you walked out of the room because you certainly wouldn't have said that had you been able to witness the vile images constantly permeating his head and tainting his thoughts.

It's not like he hadn't been watching the tantalizing sway of your hips and the enticing curve of your neck peeking from underneath your shirt from the corner of his eye when you walked into that same room earlier that day though.

Shaking those pesky thoughts, Nanami focused instead on the plan already forming on his heads, the gears turning as he deliberated on his new goal: be your valentine.

Friday came around too soon for his liking, but the plan had already been set in motion. Even though you consistently flustered him, Nanami couldn't recall a time he had been quite as anxious before.

He had been not so patiently waiting by the window, shoulders stiff, impassive expression, crossed arms and fingers of his right hand tapping continuously on his left bicep.

The setting had been arranged just right for your arrival, but his scheme wasn't without fail. There was one small hindrance Nanami forgot to take into account: Gojo.

"Look what we've got here, someone has a secret admirer!" his cadence was unmistakable as he crossed the threshold to the office alongside you.

You stopped on your tracks, gaping like a fish at the voluminous arrangement of blooming red roses in light pink tissue paper set on your desk.

"What the- What's all this?" You put your hands on your waist and turned to face the mam beside you, "Gojo, I swear to god. If this is your idea of a prank-"

"Not me, sweets."

"Then who-?"

Nanami cleared his throat, finally calling the attention of the bickering duo to himself. Seeing him promptly causes your annoyance to face into a bright grin,

"Hi, Nanami! Almost didn't see you there!"

Which he would have corresponded hadn't it been for the white-haired nuisance standing by you.

"Nanamin! My favorite office worker dropout." Gojo smiled and opened his arms widely as if expecting a hug, only to receive a deadpan instead, the vein at Nanami's forehead close to bursting. Gojo lowered his arms, a pout on his lips.

"Gakuganji is waiting for you," it's what Nanami went with as a greeting.

"Ha! That old geezer could die waiting for all I care." Gojo dismissed the assertion. He leaned forward, one long finger swiping underneath the band of his blindfold to pull it up on one side, and winked at the blonde sorcerer, "but I will leave you two lovebirds alone, if that's what you want."

After snapping his headband back into place he was off to bug someone else.

You strolled over until you stood face to chest face with Nanami and reached a hand to smooth the lines between his brows, "with the way Gojo irritates you, you'll look like an old man in no time if you don't relax a little bit, Nanami."

His entire body seemed to loosen up at your touch - jaw and fists unclenching, eyes softening, shoulders falling. It worked like magic and you didn't even know.

"I'll try my best."

You stepped back, cringing as you became mindful of his personal space which you had just trespassed with no warning whatsoever. Yet, you thought better not to acknowledge it and instead held onto the strap of your bag with both hands, using it as an anchor, and pointed your chin to the flowers.

"Any idea who's behind the roses?"

"I am."

"What?"

"I wanted to gift them to you for Valentine's Day."

"Oh. Oh!" A smile slowly built as the surprise sunk in, "that's such a sweet gesture. Thank you, Nanami!"

He nodded once, lips parting and closing briefly as if unsure of how to proceed, "you know, I consider myself a very eloquent man, but you make it very difficult to express myself.... to find the right words. I even considered leaving a letter along with the flowers, but I believe some matters are better said in person."

"Do I make you nervous, Nanamin?" you teased, head lolling to the side playfully.

"Please, don't call me that."

"Sorry," you winced, scratching at your wrist, "Yuji and Gojo's antics rub on me sometimes. I'll go back to Nanami."

"I'd prefer if you called me Kento, actually."

Now, who's making who nervous?

"Alright. Kento."

He straight out gulped as you carefully enounced his name, almost as if caressing the sound. Kento cleared his throat, eyes flitting to the ground and then back to your face.

"And yes, you do make me nervous."

You bit your lip to suppress a proud grin. Was it too soon to mention you liked the idea of making him nervous?

Nanami took a deep breath before saying your name, "will you be my valentine?"

"I'm- Really?"

"If you will have me, that is."

"Kento, I'd like nothing more."

"Well, in that case, would you like to have dinner with me tonight to celebrate the occasion?"

"Sure, that sounds lovely."

"I want to cook for you, but I didn't want to be presumptuous assuming you'd be comfortable going to my home on our first date so I also went ahead and made reservations at a restaurant, I can even send you a copy of their menu if that would make you less anxious."

That was the closest you had ever seem of Kento rambling. Maybe he had been nervous, after all.

"First date, huh?" You chuckled, swaying back and forth in your giddiness. "You could never make me uncomfortable, Kento. I'm fine with dining at your house tonight."

"Excellent. I will pick you up. Is 7 a good time?"

"It's perfect."

"I'll let you get back to work then. I look forward to tonight."

"So do I."

He smiled briefly before strutting to the door. You were so hypnotized by the way his shoulders flexed underneath his suit that you nearly forgot:

"Kento!"

"Yes?" He stopped and turned to you right as he reached the door, one inquisitive brow lifting above the edge of his glasses.

"The flowers are beautiful."

You had been applying the finishing touches to your look when the intercom ringed. You cursed and tripped trying to reach the offending electronic as if Nanami would give up on you if you left him waiting.

If only you know he would wait forever if that's what it took to have you - Kento was a patient man.

"Yes?" you answered cheerfully. His resonant voice called your name in question, making sure he had the correct apartment.

"Hey, Kento. I'll be right down!"

You rushed out the door after picking up your purse and keys and basically flew down the stairs.

You slowed down as you reached the lobby of the building where you could see Nanami standing on the other side of the glass doors, hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants, his biceps bulging in the sleeves of a clearly ironed crisp white shirt and undercut visible underneath his brushed back blonde hair. All you could think then was that it was Valentine's Day and that man was waiting for you.

Nanami turned when he heard the door unlocking and watched as you stepped outside. He breathed your name in wonder, appreciative gaze taking in every detail of you.

"You look absolutely stunning," his voice came out breathy.

"I could say the same of you."

He offered you his arm to guide you to his car, and you took it, treasuring the opportunity of testing if his arm felt just as solid as it looked (it did).

Like the gentleman he is, Kento opened the passenger door for you, but instead of taking the offered seat, you turned to face him and stood on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. When you got back to the sole of your feet you could see the dust of red looming from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

"You have a beautiful smile. You should wear it more often," you commented casually even though the palm of your hands were clammy and your throat dry.

Only then you did enter the car, a satisfied grin painting your face at the sight of a flustered Nanami as he closed the door after you and walked around the vehicle to take his spot as the driver.

Of course he drove an austere German luxury car, the spotless silver undoubtedly recently polished and the inside looking just as pristine. You would have thought it was brand new if you hadn't felt his expensive cologne in the leather seat or if you couldn't see his blunt sword on the back seat through the rearview mirror and keys and water bottle on the center console.

The drive was filled with quiet conversation as you filled each other in on how you spent the day: you complaining about paperwork, him praising Ino and Yuji. Nothing outside of usual.

The conversation never dimmed, if anything it only picked up once you made it inside his apartment. He opened a bottle of wine and handed you a glass, pointing you towards one high stools by the island in his kitchen so you could watch as he finished off the dinner he had left half-ready before picking you up.

It all felt familiar, safe.

And the sight of his broad back and tiny waist accentuated by the apron tied around it was not half bad of a view.

You were slightly tipsy by the time he finished putting together the salad and the oven beeped announcing everything was ready.

"Gosh, it smells heavenly!" You commended after a particularly strong sniff of the delectable aroma reached your nose.

"Hopefully, it tastes just as good." Nanami chuckled as he removed the roasted chicken, bread rolls and vegetables from the oven and took it to the table. You took that as you cue to follow after him to the dinner room.

He had set the table previously to your arrival with plates, glasses, cutlery and napkins for two. The decoration consisting of flowers and candles.

You settled in comfortable silence as you ate, you leaving complimentary comments and delighted hums with each new flavor you discovered and Kento taking it with gracefulness until both of your plates where cleared.

"You've outdone yourself, Kento. When I mentioned my lack of valentine I really expected nothing out of it. Thank you for making this day less sad for me."

Nanami gifted you with a soft smile, one you didn't think you had ever seen on his lips, his eyes squinting lightly with it, "it was my pleasure."

His soothing disposition gave you the courage to continue:

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You already did."

"Imma walk out that door, Kento." you threatened, but Kento knew it was in jest. Still, he relented:

"Please, do ask a second question."

"Are you doing this out of pity? Because I was moping about never having a valentine?"

Kento regarded you curiously, the lack of glasses letting you read him easily than you would have usually, but not without some challenge, considering most of his expressions were kept to a minimum.

"What do you think?" He questioned softly.

"I think," you stopped and used the hold you had on the stem of your cup to twirl the remaining liquid inside of it, "you've never went out of your way like this for anyone. At least not for as long as I've known you."

"That would be correct." He nodded once, almost proud of you for reaching an accurate conclusion.

"So why are you doing so for me?"

"Because I want to," simple as that.

"Because I have a lovely personality and I am a very attractive person? Objectively speaking, of course." You parroted his earlier words with a playful smirk.

"Perhaps I haven't expressed myself clearly." Kento leaned forward, his hand reaching yours across the table, probably to stop your nervous fidgeting and bring your full attention to him, "I think you are lovely. And beautiful."

"Hmm... Is that so?"

"Spending this Friday with you is the farthest thing from charitable. I'm doing it out of my own selfish desires."

"I'm still not convinced. It's just that... earlier today you said I made you nervous, but you've been the picture of composure all night. Even your place looks impeccable despite the fact that you spent hours cooking," You explained your doubt, but your voice wavered as his thumb started caressing your knuckles back and forth.

"Don't let the image fool you. That's a facade. I'd like to think after a couple of years I've became a pro in disguising my flustered state around you."

"That's... a long time."

"Upon our initial meeting, your beauty was the first thing I noticed, and then just how charming you are."

"That just can't be right. What, you just immediately knew?" You mentally cursed yourself for your eagerness, shaking your head, "you know what? Don't answer that. I'm just fishing for compliments now."

"And I'll gladly shower you in compliments for you are deserving of them. It wasn't immediate, no. I believe these feelings came to fruition with small interactions throughout our daily lives because I've come to perceive how kind, passionate, and intelligent you are through them. All qualities I strongly admire."

"Well, I think you are all that but also honorable, wise, generous, and dependable. Not to mention very, very handsome."

"Is it safe to assume you feel the same then?"

"Oh, more than safe."

"Good."

"You also make it very difficult for me to lower my standards. Because not only you're incredible, but you also can cook? You have to teach me how you do those bread rolls!"

"I've actually got the recipe from a local bakery. Is where I buy bread more often than not, considering our hectic schedules. They have a great assortment of pastries as well. I'll take you there another day."

"Is this your way of asking me out on a second date?"

"No."

Your face fell, surely you hadn't read all of this wrong?

"I'd like our second date to be more romantic than that. That's me asking you out for a casual outing. Perhaps as your boyfriend?"

You could have hit him and his stupid smug smirk as relief washed over you.

"Yes, this is my way of asking you if you'll allow me that honor." Kento answered your next question before you even had time to formulate it.

part 2 (AKA the smut) here

©sugurusfavemonkey 2025┃all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagiarism is prohibited.

[yourname-exee]

Happy Valentine's Day!

Warning:Smut in some (Minors DNI)

Kento Nanami loves his wife oh so dearly and would do just about anything to make you smile. So once he notices the approaching date, he takes up a cooking class, wanting to perfect your favorite meals.

He has a whole plan set in mind and he feels a sparkle of something warm within him, catching himself smiling just slightly as he thought about the look on your face. This man is so eager to please his lovely wife.

When Valentine's Day does arrive, Nanami makes sure to be the first one awake, putting his skill to use as he cooked breakfast, setting up the table with a vase of flowers and a small gift bag near your plate. His footsteps are soft but have purpose as he heads for your shared bedroom, he placed his palm against your back gently rubbing up and down so he can try to stir you awake and this proves to work as you in fact start to wake up. He gently guided you to the kitchen, hands placed on your waist, and your eyes softening as you took in the table that was set up perfectly, your eyes landing on the plate of your favorite breakfast foods, you turn arms wrapping around his waist, hugging him.

'Ken what is all this?'

'I wanted to make you breakfast honey, so I took up a cooking class.'

He responded gently before settling you down in the dining chair, joining you, you took a bite, eyes widening slightly as you savor the explosion of delightful flavors. Kento couldn't help but feel pride at the expression on your face.

And that's how the rest of the day went, he made your favorite dishes for lunch and dinner. Annd then for dessert Nanami laid you out on the table, legs spread wide as his tongue lapped up your juicy nectar.

Satoru Gojo is a man who loves to spoil his wife any chance he can get but on Valentine's Day this man goes overboard.

Making sure to wake up before you, he went and picked up your favorite breakfast, rushing home so he can start setting up the table. Candles and single stemmed roses scattered the table. He went and retrieved your first round of gifts, placing two small bags near the top of your plate and one giant teddy bear in the chair you were going to sit in. Once he was satisfied with the set up he practically skipped to your shared bedroom, to wake you up. After a couple minutes he successfully woke you up and was guiding you to the kitchen buzzing with excitement, eliciting a mumble from you along the lines of, I just woke up, you faltered as you took in the kitchen, heart melting and eyes softening, you turn to face Gojo, smile spreading along your lips before you lean forward placing them against his. His eyes practically pop into the shape of hearts as he takes in your soft look.

'Okay sit sit.'

He breathes, gently placing you in your seat placing the bear in the chair next to you, he pushes you to open the gifts, one baggy consisting of a necklace, one that you said reminded you of one your grandmother used to own and the other had a matching bracelet. Your eyes look up to your husband tears well up causing him to reach forward to softly stroke your cheek with his thumb.

'Don't cry, you're supposed to be happy.'

'I am happy, these are happy tears.'

The rest of the day Saturo would smother you with gifts and kisses at random points of the day sometimes it was so random you had no idea where he pulled them from.

Suguru Geto would gift you with orgasm after orgasm, don't get him wrong he does this any chance he can get but on Valentine's Day he solely dedicates this day to you.

Morning time rolled around and the first thing he did was shimmy under the covers, positioning himself between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs gently as to not wake you up, just yet.

His fingers massage the skin of your soft thighs before they hook into the hem of your panties pulling them down your legs slowly, once completely off, he makes his way back up, lips ghosting over your skin, before he settles back into his position between your legs, his shoulders pressing into the doughy flesh on the back of your thighs. His thumbs come up to pull apart your sticky lips, strings of arousal keeping the parted flesh connected in some way, he licks his lips before that skillful tongue slid up through your folds swirling over your clit before sliding back down, doing exactly the same thing once more, this has you stirring awake, thighs closing only slightly but Getos arms kept them pushed apart as he leans in deeper, tongue diving in causing a soft gasp to puff past your lips his name laced within. You pull the covers up and over him looking down as your elbows keep you elevated, one of your hands coming to his head, fingers lacing with in his dark locks pulling his mouth off of you with a soft pop, biting your lip gently before you ask.

'What're you doing?'

Sleep tinged your tone. Causing Geto's eyes to soften into hearts, leaning his cheek on your inner thigh as his pupils dance from small to big.

'Starting off Valentine's Day right, I took the whole day off so I can focus on you.. alll day.'

He murmured gently kissing the spot where his cheek previously rested.

And indeed did this happen allll day, he only took small breaks in order to feed you and get you water before he was right back at it.

Toji Fushiguro was a complicated man, not one to do anything unless it was for himself, ooh and of course his beloved wife. He knew the date that was coming up, Valentine's Day , so what did he do? He picked up extra jobs, wanting to treat you, spoil you properly.

Although this seemed to create a distance between you two, only because he was gone for so long, he had only pure intentions behind this. Soo when the day actually arrives, it takes you by great surprise when you awoke and the living room was full of red balloons and rose petals. The couch is covered in stuffed animals that represent the holiday by holding hearts that say 'happy Valentine's Day' or 'i love you'. Your husband standing near the kitchen holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, his posture seems tense as he's realized the time he's spent away trying to make this all happen, waiting to see how you'd react.

His shoulders seemed to relax as he saw the soft look on your face, you approached him with gentle steps, before wrapping yourself around him murmuring.

'Thank you.'

In turn he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss to your head. Responding with.

'I'm sorry I've been away, I just wanted to make today perfect, I didn't mean to be gone so long.'

You pull back to look up at him, you guys stay nuzzled in each other's arms. Your eyes sparkling gently up at him before he started to guide you to the kitchen where the table was full of all the breakfast foods you could imagine, ranging from donuts to bagels, eggs and bacon, pancakes and waffles, french toast and crepes anything and everything you could ask for. You blush gently as he sat you down at the table handing you a plate before joining you, light conversation flows between you two.

The day was filled with surprise gifts. During lunch he took you on a picnic and for dinner he took you to a fancy restaurant. Money well spent, Toji would say, especially after the thank you he received from you later that night.

Ryomen Sukuna didn't do holidays or any human traditions really, especially not one that contains emotions. But the look on your face when he said he didn't want to celebrate Valentine's Day in his usual defensive tone was a look he knew he didn't want to see again, especially if he was the reason for it.

Contrary to popular belief Sukuna did in fact love you, although he'd never confirm nor deny this , it was obvious you hold a special place with in him. Soo what did Sukuna do? He did his research.. with the help of Uraume obviously, to figure out exactly what needed to be done to get his beloved flower to smile so brightly.

He grumbles as Uraume puts the final touches to his suite the words 'the things I do for her' leaving his mouth, but there was no real heat behind it, more of a front, Uraume knows better though, she knows that Sukuna would do this every single time if it meant you were happy.

He had everything planned out and it seemed to be working the way he envisioned it to, with you waiting, beautifully might he add, in the garden wearing a new pink floral dress. He approached with confident steps but faltered only slightly when you turned and batted those pretty eyes at him. He swallowed down before his fingers wrapped around yours finally standing in front of you, a rare sight, to some it wasn't a sight to be seen at all but Sukuna smiled, gently might you add, as he looked at you saying.

'Are you ready to go?'

In turn you responded with a gentle nod and a soft smile.

And boy was this night one to remember.

[vandal-flower]

Timeless Pining

Rin Itoshi x Reader.

Bring Your Plus One Event

Invitation Details: Rin Itoshi, is currently being flamed by the press for being #foreversingle. How to solve this, by inviting you, his childhood friend. Will the press get off his back, and will his friendship with you stay the same?

Warnings: Jealous Rin, Beef with Sae and Shidou. Sae and Shidou are besties.

"ITOSHI RIN FROM THE BLUE LOCK 11 HAS BEEN DECLARED TO BE #FOREVERSINGLE BY FANS"

Out of all the things Rin could have been accused for, this has to be the worst by far.

#RINWILLBEFOVEVERSINGLE.

It doesn't help that he has been compared to his brother and the intolerable Ryusei Shidou in the comment section.

saeitoshiontop < "I've seen Sae with more women than this man. Sae has only been seen with three so far, and one of them was his mom. 😶"

finaldae55 < "Don't tell me Shidou has more game than him 😭😭🤚"

myonlinefued12 < "Somebody get this man a girlfriend."

Someone replied < "I shall volunteer 🙋‍♀️"

Another replied < "Goodluck."

As much as he could ignore it, it did not help the fact that he was being deemed as the worst potential boyfriend, and an even worse potential husband in the soccer world.

And to be compared to his worst-excuse of an older brother, and the pink radioactive cockroach. Unacceptable.

Driven by his need for vengeance, he messages the one person who he trusts outside of the field.

Rin smiled to himself. His plan is sure to set in motion. Inviting someone like you will put everyone in their place regarding his relationship status and his ability to get a lover.

This might also be an opportunity to one up both his brother and the pink radioactive cockroach.

Rin was driving the car as you were getting dressed in the backseat. As promised, he got you a free outfit. It's amazing how he got all your measurements sizes as it fitted you well.

"Had I not known better Rinnie, I would have declined your offer and stayed home.", you joked, putting on your shoes.

"And watch my name go through the mud. Not a chance.", he gripped on the steering wheel as his mouth tasted bitter. "You don't like the thought of Shidou having more game than you?", you asked.

Had it not been for the fact he was on the road, he would have lunged at you. But since he cares for you so much and has self-respect, he doesn't.

"I hope you stumble and fall."

"I hope you catch me as I fall."

What was he going to do with you...

The paparazzi swarmed the both sides of the building, like it was a red carpet event. Cameras flashing as each vehicle carrying the invited guest and their plus one.

As Rin existed the driver's seat, he was approached by a familiar pest in his life.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Rinrin. Hashtag, Mister Forever single.", a devilish smile was etched across Shidou's face, "it's a surprise you actually came, I'd be embarrassed if I were you."

Rin didn't attempt to hide his scowl, but instead went to the backseat of the car. Opening the door, he took your hand and brought you out. Giving the keys to someone nearby, then interlocking your arm with his, walking past a baffled Shidou.

For a moment the paparazzi went quiet, before the flashing of cameras grew louder along with the commentators.

Rin couldn't help, but smile to himself. Putting Shidou in his place felt better than he thought, and the proud feeling in his chest was evident of that. He won't admit that you accompanying him also contributed to this.

You winced with all the flashing, and without wasting a moment, Rin placed his hand over your eyes. "I'll guide you into the building, just trust me." And without any thought, you do as you are told.

Shidou smirked. He looked back at Rin and you, "What a lovely couple, wonder if it's genuine?"

Rin kept to his promise, unlike his older brother. You had very little to worry about while at the party, other than the looks from Shidou, all is well.

"I didn't expect you to show face Rin.", snapping out of his thoughts he looks behind him. There stood the world's best midfielder. The Sae Itoshi. He couldn't ignore the feeling in his stomach, whether it was anxiety or anger, he didn't know. He just didn't want him of all people to be here.

Rin glares at his brother, before turning away. He is better than this, he reminds himself. Taking note of his silence, Sae continues. "I see you brought (Name), good choice. Had I known better, I would have taken them for myself."

Rin snapped his neck back, the deadliest glare on his face. Anyone would have turned to dust if looks could kill, but Sae isn't just anyone. "If you want a piece of advice, tell them how you feel before the night ends. It the only good you'll do tonight after this stunt.", before Rin could say anything, Sae leaves, disappearing in the crowd.

Worried, Rin looks over to you. There you were, a smile across your face, directed to Shidou. As you laugh, Shidou looks over to Rin, and smiles. In a daze, he walks up to you and leaves while holding your hand, dragging you outside f the building.

"Hey, what's wrong?", you whisper to him. His brother's words echoed in his head and the smile on Shidou's face could not erase itself from his mind. Taken you for himself? Not a chance.

You were one of the only people Rin could trust in his social circle, and he won't allow his brother, the demon, or anyone to take you away from him like that.

You stop what you're doing, and laugh to yourself, catching Rin off guard. "Shidou told me you would be jealous if I talked to him, and to think I didn't believe him. Not to mention Sae giving you 'the talk'."

He gave you a puzzled look before connecting the dots. It was all plan to get him to confess to you. Ever since childhood, he was protective of you, but never thought it as love, but instead as friendship. But now that he thinks about it...His brother was right.

"To be honest with you, I liked you since we were kids.", you began, leaning on the wall of the building. "Even with your tongue sticking out, I thought it kinda cute, but now I think it's kinda attractive.", you joked. Or at least you thought.

The redness of your cheeks and how you avoided his eyes betrayed you. Rin stared at you, surprised at your words. Reconsidering his brother's words, he fakes a cough to draw your attention to him. "I thought the way you introduced yourself to me the first time was odd, but I...liked it."

You perked up, "What else do you like?". He looked away, but the pink on his ears told you more than enough. You wrapped your arms around his waist pulling him closer, before burying your head in his back.

"And I thought I was pining for you all this time. Turns out you had the same feelings for me. Don't worry Rinnie-poo, I love you too."

"You're insufferable."

"You love it."

He sighs to himself, before looking back at you.

"Of course I do."

Here ya go! Saw the new official art, and had to get to work. HAPPY VALENTINES 💝 💓 💖 💗!

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