#dazed and confused requests

[ash5monster01]

Hi dear!! I absolutely loved your Pink fics so much! I hope you can think about doing a cute fluff on him with him saying this prompt "Maybe I am a little bit jealous. But who wouldn't be?" to his best girl friend & all his friends know he’s head over heels for her but she’s somehow oblivious to it and finds out later on!

<33

Can’t You See?

Pairing: Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, minor angst, brief plot, best friends to lovers, no use of y/n

Summary: Oblivious to Pink’s feelings it takes one odd night to finally come to your senses. In the end neither of you could be happier.

word count: 1.1k

Masterlist

You jump as your locker slams shut in front of your face, some lip gloss smudging along the inner corner of your lip. Your eyes instantly land on the suspect beside you, a cocky smirk painted across your best friends face. You glare at him quickly, finger immediately fixing the makeup error as you shove the lip gloss away with your other hand.

“Don’t you have a class to actually attend?” you sneer, now free hand dialing your combination again to reopen the locker. Pink just grins, arms crossed over his chest.

“Free period” he explains, not the least bit affected by your annoyance. In fact he was a bit amused by it.

“Then do you need something?” you ask, grabbing the books you need and shutting the locker yourself this time.

“Was just curious if you were going to the Emporium tonight?” he smiles, nodding his head and already planning to pick you up. He’d spend all night cruising just the two of you, it was one of his favorite things in the world.

“Actually no, I have a date” he can’t stop the way his face falls, shock filling him and not expecting this answer to come from you.

“A date? Why, we always do something on Fridays?” he sounds desperate, he hopes you don’t notice. He just never thought there would be a day you actually went out with someone other than him.

“I was asked and he seems sweet. Why, you jealous?” you tease and Pink nervously chuckles, trying not to show how jealous he actually is.

“Maybe I am jealous, but who wouldn't be?" he says with the shrug of his shoulder, feigning as much of his jokester and friend personality your way. You don’t catch on to the nerves or the fact this is the truth.

“Whatever Pink, I’ll call you tomorrow. You can tell me all about the Emporium then” you tell him, holding your books tightly to your chest and starting for the class you were now late for. Yet Pink just watches you walk away, a little hurt you were going out with someone else and disappointed in himself for not making a move sooner.

Sadly the date doesn’t live up to its expectations, you now walking alone from the Top Notch in the direction of the Emporium. The guy had been kind and ever the gentleman but you never really clicked. He talked about chess nearly the entire time and maybe it was interesting but you didn’t know how to play. So when he offered to drive you home you denied it, hoping Pink was still at the Emporium to drive you instead. In fact you had wished it was him with you the whole time, that way the conversation wouldn’t have ever been lacking in any way.

“Hey, you made it!” Slater is the first to greet you, sat against the curb and smoking probably his millionth joint of the night. You smile at him before nodding your head inside.

“Our good friend Randy still around?” you ask and Slater snorts, nodding his head.

“Yeah he’s been moping over the pool table all night about your date. How was it by the way?” you’re confused what Slater means but you chalk it up to the marijuana, choosing to answer his question instead.

“It was fine, I’m gonna go find him” you say and Slater nods as you step into the Emporium, a haze of smoke and loud rock music filling the building. This was where you should have been all night.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here” Don says, passing by you with hands full of beer. You furrow your eyebrows, confused why your absence had meant this much.

“I didn’t realize my attendance was imperative” you say and he snorts, nodding his head back where you finally spot Pink leaned against a wall. A beer in hand and sad look on his face.

“It is tonight. If I have to listen to Pink whine anymore about this date I’ll go insane” he says and you keep your eyes trained on your friend, him not noticing your appearance just yet.

“I did’t realize it was such a big deal to him” you say and Don shakes his head, a knowing smile on his face.

“Wake up doll, that boys in love with you. Now take him out of his misery and ask him on a date instead” he nods his head in the direction of the boy. It’s then Pinks eyes catch your own, his features easing and form standing up straighter at the sight of you. It makes your heart stutter and it hits you then how you had wished it was Pink every time you were on a date, because it had always been him.

“Thanks Donny” you grin, stealing one of the beers and taking a swig before heading your best friend’s way. His smile grows wider and wider the closer you get and it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Hey, I thought you were on a date-” but you don’t answer the question, your lips pressing against his own and cutting him short. He’s shocked for only a moment before easing into it, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close.

“Screw my date, I’d rather be here with you” you say when you pull away and Pink smiles so wide you’re certain it has to hurt his face. He doesn’t even respond as he intimates the kiss this time, hugging you tight. It’s then your friends erupt in cheers around you, thankful you finally caught on.

“God this night couldn’t get any better” he says and you smirk, hand lacing with his own. Determined to show him it could.

“We’ll see about that, let’s get out of here” and he doesn’t hesitate to follow you out of the building. Letting you guide him to his car where you slide into the drivers seat and don’t give him much room to join. He had dreamed of having you pressed against him as he drove around town on a night like this. Now it was finally going to happen.

“What made you pick me?” Pink asks as he starts the car and you smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek and snuggling close.

“I didn’t pick, I just finally realized it would always be you” you tell him and he just smiles, backing out of the parking space and driving with no destination in mind. He didn’t need to go anywhere as long as you were by his side.

“It’s always been you too”

[carriefisher]

DAZED AND CONFUSED dir. Richard Linklater, 1993

[l3m0nflavoredst1mz]

hi hello!!

could you perchance do a stimboard of saeru/kuroha from kagerou project? :D

also sorry for the absolutely insane notification spam lmao

Saeru/Kuroha Stimboard

🐍 ‼️ 🐍

⚠️ x ⚠️

🐍 ‼️ 🐍

[myimaginaryradio]

Dazed And Confused - Led Zepplin - 1968

It's been a few days, sorry about that. Been a busy few days with a few more coming up. Until then, your wish is my comm... pleasure, your wish is my pleasure. Send an ask with your requests or dedications.

Be Safe Be Kind And Be Awesome

[buckysfaveplum]

starboy

summary: recovering from kryptonite poisoning back home in Kansas leaves your relationship with Clark a bit confused. you’ve always been his rock- his best friend. but now, back on the farm, maybe there was always something more

pairing: clark kent x female reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: spoilers!!! don’t read if you don’t wanna be spoiled you’ve been warned! just a lil hurt/comfort fluffy fic, friends confessing feelings type shit, reader calls clark ‘starboy’. um reader makes the first real move cause Clark is a bashful lil gentleman and too nervous

a/n: guyssss i’ve been gone for a while i’m sorry. i’m in the home stretch with my master’s thesis. but i just saw Superman and i’m a mess so here you go! it's my first time writing for the character so I'm still getting a feel. it's short and quick but i hope you enjoy!

masterlist | send requests

Your hands gripped the rough blue fabric of his suit as firmly as you could manage. Fingers trembled as you struggled to pull him up from the seat in the craft. His body slumped into the cushions, refusing to budge as you shook him gently.

“Clark, hey, wake up.” You tried your best to keep a steady and confident tone, but your voice betrayed you, “Let’s go, hun. We’re here.”

His eyes fluttered open slowly and glanced around, somewhat confused by his surroundings. The daze left when he looked up to be met with your bold eyes. Your hand softly combed through his ink hair, resting at the crook of his neck.

“Hey…” he said, his words slurred and dreary. You looped your arm under his and around his back, tugging as he slowly pushed himself from the seat.

The thud of his boots filled the craft, bouncing off the walls as they revealed the limp and stutter of his steps. His weight was all-consuming, with Clark leaning heavier into your side than he wished to admit. With each laboured breath, each wince and grip from his hand on your hip, your heart clenched. It was too close of a call, too lucky were you that you had pulled him out from the portal. What if you were a second later? What if the kryptonite had finished the job? What if you never saw him again?

You reached the ladder down from the craft. Slowly, you helped him down each step; his normal speed and agility were wiped away as he teetered down the stairs, balancing into your side. The sound of feet crunching thick, tall grass filled your ears. Looking up, an older couple stood at the foot of the ladder. Soft eyes, worn but kind faces, calloused yet gentle hands—the Kents.

The man you assumed to be John rushed up the steps as you reached the bottom. His large hands and strong arms opened to take some of Clark’s weight off you. Martha stood aside, watching with worry creased into her forehead and the wrinkles around her eyes

“He needs to rest, he’ll be okay,” you said as the four of you slowly made your way inside.

“Thank God,” Martha said, clutching a small gold cross strung from her neck. 

“i.. c’n walk…” Clark, the ever self-dependent and strong man, tried his best to shake off the help. His feet attempted to carry his weight. But a small dent in the ground had other plans. His foot caught, causing him to stumble and slip from your grasp.

“Woah, hey!” You slid to his front before he could fall from John’s hold and hit the ground. You gently pushed him back up, your hand tenderly brushing a curl from his forehead. “Don’t scare me like that, starboy.”

Even in his delirious and weakened state, Clark couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. That damn smile, the one that had somehow found a way to make your knees buckle. You miss the glance exchanged between his parents. 

Once inside, you awkwardly laid him into his bed. The kiddish sheets contrasted with the vibrant blue and red fabrics of his suit. The worn blue headboard popped against the stained wood panels lining the walls. His large frame spilled over the small twin bed, and you found yourself wondering how the Kents ever kept up with his growth as a child.

His hair was slick with sweat, and he was exhausted from the strain of reaching the farmhouse. John’s hand rested on Clark's forehead as he eased him into the pillows. Clark’s mumbling filled the room as he tried to relax, the comfort of his parents overwhelming him.

“ma… they sent me here t’ kill p-people,” his words were broken as he stammered. The sound of Martha gently shushing him sang through the room. 

You stood back, giving the family space. You didn’t want to intrude, he was their son after all; you were just his friend. If that was all you were, then why was your heart still pounding?

Your eyes roamed over the room, taking in the intimate setting you never thought you’d see. Clark was so private with his parents, so protective. No matter how close you were, that side of him always felt closed off to anyone else. Anything to assure their safety. 

The room was scattered with toys, which you guessed were from his early years, just the few that a teenage Clark might have found too much fondness for to toss. Posters from bands you had always given him grief over, old sports trophies, blankets you guessed Martha had made him over the years; it was a room that showed a remarkably humble and mundane childhood that shaped him into the man he was. 

Clark’s mumbling called your attention back over to the bed. His words were slightly panicked and rushed, and his half-lidded eyes began to dart around the room.

“where’s…. where’s y-y/n? y/n…” his hand weakly stretched over the sheets as if trying to feel for you.

“She’s right here, sweetheart,” Martha said. Her kind eyes glanced over to you, giving you a welcoming yet sad smile that beckoned you over. His fragile hand took yours and placed it along Clark’s arm, moving from her spot beside the bed to let you sit.

Now at his side, your hand gently stroked his arm and shoulder, working your way up to the silky curls at the nape of his neck; the ones that he couldn’t smooth out no matter how hard he tried. No matter how much comfort you took in having him there, you couldn’t quite push down the bile rising in your throat at the feeling of his dark raised veins along his neck, the painful reminder of how close he was to leaving you.

“I’m here,” you said softly, as if it was just for him. It was.

That damn smile was back, slightly lopsided and shaky from exhaustion, but just as striking as ever.

“mmm… good,” he said as his eyes finally slipped closed.

You sat there for a good while, your hands gently resting at his side, keeping an eye on him as if you were his sole protector while he was gone to the world. You’d never seen him so small, so vulnerable- as small as a 6’4” alien could be.

John’s hand stayed resting at Clark’s head, pushing back his sweat-soaked curls as he tried to relax from the ordeal.

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s just a softy. Especially when it comes to Clark,” Martha said, patting your back as she walked over to her husband. Her eyes watched intently as your hands continued to tremble around Clark’s, unable to let go. She smirked before ushering John out of the room. You heard the faint mumblings of he’ll be okay, he’s got her as they left.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to leave his side, not after he was almost lost to you forever. An hour or so passed before sleep finally overtook you as well. The peaceful look on Clark's face was the last thing you saw before drifting off, your head resting on his side as your arm stretched across him.

-

A continuous, soft tapping against your thighs stirred you awake. The bright Kansas sun spilled in through the blinds and danced across the room. The angle was different than when you dozed off. Rather than lying perched beside the bed, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling with sheets surrounding you. Clark.

Of course, he moved you to his bed.

The thumping continued, and you finally looked down, taking in the sight of Krypto lying cozy across your body, his face mere inches from yours. The tapping of his wagging tail made you giggle as you slipped from the handknit blanket Clark had wrapped you in to scratch behind his ears.

“Good boy,” you said. 

The old door creaked on its hinges as you slipped out of the room and down the hall. Your feet padded softly across the tile til you reached the kitchen. Martha stood at the stove, gently pouring a cup of coffee and spreading a thick red jam across two biscuits. You tried to be quiet, wishing not to disturb her morning. 

“Morning, dear,” she said before turning to you. You wondered if Clark’s enhanced hearing was something he just learned from his parents because you swore she had it too.

“Morning, Martha,” you said.

“Oh, dear, call me Ma,” you smiled at her words and nodded, walking over as she handed you a cup of coffee. The warm mug filled your hands, and for the first time, they weren’t trembling anymore.

“Thank you for letting me stay the night,” you said.

“Don’t even mention it!” she said before returning a jug of milk to the fridge. While you took a sip from your mug, she stepped over and placed a hand once again on your back. “Thank you for bringing him back to us safely.”

Before you could respond, she nodded her head in the direction of the window out the kitchen door.

“He’s out front,” she said. You gave her a thankful smile before resting your drink on the counter and slipping out the door. 

The fabric of your skirt swirled around your legs, long blades of grass pricked at your calves as you waded through the field to reach him. Clark leaned against the rickety wooden fence, watching horses prance and whinny. Your hand gingerly patted the soft snout of one of the horses standing along the fence before you found your way to his spot. 

You stood beside him, a comfortable silence falling between you. The sound of the horses filled the air, harmonizing with the low buzz of the bees. You could help but notice the worn flannel stretched over Clark’s arms and back, how the faded jeans he wore had heel bites that revealed the dark brown of his leather boots. It always seemed to slip your mind that he was a country boy through and through, except for those times when his Kansas accent would slip out, it always seemed to happen when you took the last dumpling at dinner.

“You really gave me the bed?” you asked, watching the horses trot around the pen.

“What kind of man would I be if I let you sleep on the floor?” he said.

“The kind who needed rest ‘cause he was poisoned…” You said with a giggle, but he knew you were serious. He simply shrugged, a casual smile on his lips.

He moved to stand closer to you, leaning forward on the fence and finally looking over at you. His hands wrung as he looked you over. For a moment, you thought maybe he was nervous, like you made him anxious. 

You leaned on the wood with him, your shoulder nudging slightly into his. Your hands hesitated before a gust of courage helped you take his and stop his fidgeting. A placid sigh slipped from his lips as that damn smile came back. 

“You scared me, starboy,” you said. 

A blush burst across his face. Once, that always seemed to appear at the sound of that nickname. Perhaps yesterday he was too out of it, but today that blush was back in full swing.

He stepped closer to you, leaving little distance between your bodies. His hands gingerly played with yours, turning it over softly and tracing the lines on your palm.

“...I know, I could tell,” he said.

Oh.

Your free hand moved delicately to the soft flesh at the crook of his neck. Slowly, your fingers traced along the thick veins under his skin. The dark, bluish black hue they were only a few hours before had subsided, leaving them to blend in with the flushed pink hues of his skin. You could feel the flutter in his heartbeat and the way his breathing stuttered at your hands. Neither of you said a word; he just let you feel what you needed, letting you reassure yourself that he was there. That he was okay and wasn’t planning on leaving you.

“Clark…” you said, looking down to avoid his gaze.

His hand slid up to your chin, guiding your eyes back to his with a kind smile. A low hey slipped from his lips before his head ducked closer to your height.

“I wanna say something, something that feels crazy… and if it is, tell me… cause I’ve been feeling this for a while now…. and-and if it’s crazy just-” you stopped his rambling.

“Say it,” you said.

He bit his lip, and you tenderly pulled it from his teeth. The blush on his cheeks grew stronger as he let out a thankful huff and tilted his head. He had a bad habit of subconscious lip biting, one that often resulted in a gash along his lower lip from his strength. You tried your best as often as you could to stop the habit, to keep him from harming himself in any way.

“Something feels different with us. You’re my best friend, my favorite person, and… lately I’ve been feeling things I shouldn’t feel. Things a friend shouldn’t feel and I…” your eyes widened as he spoke, his words stammering as her nerves took over. He spoke with a speed that revealed his nervousness, one that was uniquely Clark. “It’s not fair to you, me wanting more, feeling more. But I do. I think I love you, y/n.”

He didn’t break your gaze, but that didn’t hide the fear of rejection that was clear on his face. It was obvious; despite lying helpless in a pocket dimension with kryptonite just a day ago, despite being weakened and exhausted in his childhood bed the night before, he had never felt more vulnerable or exposed than this moment.

You were quiet, probably for too long. He finally broke eye contact, ducking his head away. Your hand caught his face gently, brushing along the soft stubble that grew along his sharp jaw. 

Before he could speak again, you were leaning in. Your lips pressed against his. He moved in tandem with you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you close. It was soft and intimate; you had imagined kissing Clark so many times, but you never could’ve predicted just how blissful it would feel.

His grip on you tightened as he leaned further in. Somewhere in the moment, you felt your feet lift from the ground. Your arms wrapped firmly around his neck as you deepened the kiss, nipping softly at his lower lip.

When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead to yours. His arms held you safe and secure to his chest as the two of you hovered over the fence. Your hands slipped to card through his curls.

“I love you, Clark,” you said. He sighed with relief, giggling tenderly as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Promise me you’re not going anywhere?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he said. You leaned further into his arms, finally relaxing in his presence. He was here, he was safe, and he was yours.

“Now, could you please put us down, starboy?”

---

this was quick and cute but I hope y'all enjoyed ;)

[millermouth]

teeny tiny request from me bc ily and your brain:

lazy morning sex with obsessed jackson!joel 🧎‍♀️

(think about him sleepily praising you…. yum)

joel miller x you drabble

|| smut MDNI 18+, plot what plot???, praaaaiiiseeeee kinkkkkkkk, edging, pinv, fingering?? kinda?? dirty talk so much dirty talk, daddy kink, pussy pronouns, picture either joel ||

a/n: I had a moment where I needed to step away from this and ask myself wtf am I doing. thank you for the request!!

Once upon a time, you'd shown old man Joel the art of edging.

You know, bringing you to the brink of an orgasm just to be denied and denied over and over again. The concept had confused him at first, not because he didn’t understand it, but because on a spiritual level, it offended him. Joel was a man who believed in finishing what he started. His favorite thing in the world was eating you out. He believed in slow, drawn out sessions where he'd bury his face between your legs and nearly forget to breathe. He’d make you come on his tongue and over and over. Leaving you on the edge of release, teasing you only to pull back? That shit felt cruel to him. Damn near a sin.

But then he'd done it once. With you beneath him, soaked and trembling, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, lips parted like you’d forgotten how to breathe, he saw your mind go far away, drifting slow through the heat pooling in your gut. It broke something in him wide open.

Or maybe it built something.

Because now he was obsessed.

So this morning, curled up in bed on a quiet Sunday, you refused to wake, even as the sun bled through your closed eyelids and painted the darkness behind them red. You'd barely stirred, body drowsy from sleep and overstimulation from the night before, your skin damp with sweat that had long since slicked fresh again. Joel had you spooned up tight, bare skin pressed against bare skin. His arms were wrapped around your ribs, thick and strong, locking you into place against his chest. One palm was splayed across your breast, fingers occasionally squeezing to feel the twitch of your spine. His other hand was beneath your hips, holding them at just the right angle so he could stay buried deep inside you.

He was moving in slow, controlled thrusts, fucking up into you from behind, steady and deep. Each time he pulled out, he dragged against your walls with painstaking precision, then drove his cock back into your slick, overstimulated cunt like he was slotting himself into a lock built just for him.

“So pretty,” he breathed into your ear, voice thick. His breath was hot, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he pushed in again. His cock hit a tender, spongey spot high inside you and you moaned, walls clamping down on him like a vice, still trembling from the second orgasm he’d denied you.

“Joeeel,” you whined, voice barely audible, one hand stretched up over your head, fingers laced in his damp, messy hair.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, lips dragging across your neck to your pulse as he pressed a kiss. Your skin was fever-warm and slick. His hand at your breast squeezed tighter, grounding you, while his grip on your hip never wavered, keeping you perfectly aligned for each slow, deliberate push of his hips.

“I could fuck you all damn day like this,” he said against your skin, lips brushing your shoulder, your neck, the soft edge of your jaw. His stubble scraped you raw in places already rubbed red from him kissing you over and over again. He pulled his cock out halfway, and you could feel the exact moment it dragged over the ridged front of your walls—the thick, curved head brushing the same spot again and again, making your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat. Your mouth fell open, a mewling cry breaking out as your eyes rolled back.

“Shh, shh,” Joel cooed, voice like warm gravel, “You hear that?”

Your eyes blinked open, a little sleepy and dazed. He was peering over your shoulder, chin perched on your collarbone. His eyes were dark, wild, hungry. But soft, too.

“Can hear just how much she likes it, can’t you?” he murmured, hips giving a small roll that pressed him deeper, the obscene, squelching sounds of you soaking around him filling the room in time with your breath. The evidence of your arousal was everywhere. It shone along your inner thighs, it dripped against his balls, and soaked the bedspread beneath you. You were a mess.

“This is all she needed, just needed some love from daddy,” Joel added.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the words. Your head fell back against his shoulder, neck arched, whole body pressing into him, “Please, please, Joel—”

You rolled your hips in a desperate circle, seeking pressure, angle, anything that would fill that maddening void inside you. But he held steady.

“Gotta wait for it,” he said, casual, calm, but his voice was tight with restraint. “Be patient like daddy. You don’t want this to end already, do ya?”

You whimpered. The ache in your hips and spine was starting to burn, muscles trembling with the effort to hold it in while he fucked you slow and deep, like time didn’t exist. His cock throbbed inside you, dragging over your g-spot with each movement. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t hard. It was worse. It was agonizingly slow. And yet so, so addictive.

He was torturing you.

Because Joel didn’t just edge you anymore. He’d started edging himself. He wanted to drag it out, hold back, hover on the brink of release until his whole body was shaking, the same as yours. He finally understood how it made the orgasm stronger. That it made you tighter around him, clenching like a fist. Said your cunt would milk him dry every damn time.

And fuck, he was right.

He let go of your breast, hand trailing down your sweat-slick stomach, fingers slow and lazy as they traced toward where your bodies were joined.

You let out a strangled noise when his finger grazed your soaked folds, feeling the obscene stretch where his cock disappeared into you. He pushed deeper at the same time, a slow, relentless press that had your thighs twitching.

"She's openin' up real nice for me, ain't she, baby? She loves daddy's cock, huh?"

“Yes,” you gasped, brain blank, body buzzing like live wire. His fingers slid over your clit, the poor thing swollen, raw, so sensitive it felt like you were burning from the inside out.

“Yes, daddy, yes yes yes—”

He didn’t rub or stroke it, though. He merely brushed the lightest tease over your clit, so faint it barely registered as touch, but your body screamed at the sensation. He pushed his cock back in again, slow as syrup, grinding forward until you swore he was reaching your lungs.

“On one, you’re gonna come with me, alright, babygirl?”

You nodded frantically, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, breath shuddering through your lips.

“Five.”

He brought his fingers to your mouth, coaxing your lips open. You sucked them in obediently, wrapping your tongue around the two thick digits, tasting yourself faintly on his skin. Joel growled in your ear, low and primal, hips twitching at the sight of you like this, so desperate, and aching for release. He knew how much you loved it too.

“Four.”

His fingers left your mouth with a wet schlick, sliding down to toy with one of your nipples, just rubbing lightly around it, enough to make your back arch like a bowstring. You writhed against him, grinding back into his cock, brows pinched and breath shaking. His mouth was on your shoulder again, then your neck, his chin hooked over your clavicle.

"Three," he moved his fingers down, and thank every god in heaven above, began to stroke your clit in little circles. Your body jolted like you’d been shocked. You let out a mewl, high and desperate.

"You gonna be my good girl?"

“Yes, Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, I swear to god—”

“Two,” he cut you off, a slow grin curling against your skin as he lifted his fingers away, “That ain’t no way to be thankin’ me, baby. You were doin’ so good a minute ago. Maybe we should start over.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry,” you cried, trembling hard now. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good. Please, please—”

“I know, I know,” he said gently, fingers sliding back to your clit with that same maddening precision. “My best girl. Prettiest girl I know. Prettiest pussy too, sweet baby. You wanna come for me?”

“Yes!” you shrieked, every nerve in your body sparking, heart slamming against your ribcage as you hung onto him for dear life, holding back the pressure that was building in your belly and your hips.

“Okay, baby. You can come for me,” he breathed heavily, groaning, "Come with me, pretty girl, there you go, there you go, yes—"

Your whole body seized as your head was thrown back, mouth open in a scream that sounded like a cat in heat. It tore through you, wave after wave of hot, unbearable pleasure. Your vision blacked out in bursts. Your eyes were blinded white, then red, then nothing but color and sound and Joel’s voice in your ear.

He held you tight, growling low in his chest as you clenched around him like a vice. His hips bucked, fucking himself through his orgasm as his release spilled into you.

The room spun, your limbs like jelly. You barely registered the soft kisses he pressed to your shoulder, your hair, the corner of your jaw.

Eventually, your eyes fluttered open again. You turned your head, still half-limp, lips curved into a lazy, euphoric grin.

“I’ve created a monster,” you whispered against his lips.

Joel just chuckled, deep and warm, and kissed you again before saying, "Good mornin' to you too,"

[kiwiatoll]

loser! jake BUT readers all of a sudden nice to him and jake is confused (and turned on ofc) maybe special occasion or smthn.surprise ne queen !!

⁺𝅄 𓊆 ❀ 𓊇 just so u guys know.. this will be my last jake fic/drabble before I retire him :(( i write for all of the members and I didn’t think people would request or even like my loser!jake stuff this much, so he WILL make a retrurn on my blog, I just want to share my work for other enha members as well <33 pls understand

pair loser!jake x hot!reader ͡ ͘◡ ꫶᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜৯ tags reverse cowgirl, cockwarming ✿ scene jake forgot their third anniversary, again. He’s bracing for punishment, but instead, you’re suddenly super nice to him. Like, really nice. Confused, flustered, and lowkey turned on, Jake starts to wonder: is this mercy… or a horrible horrible setup? ────── library ⊹ ࣪ click to join taglist

like + reblog appreciated <3

Jake wakes up to the smell of bacon.

Which is weird, because he’s the one who usually forgets the pan and sets off the smoke alarm, and you usually sleep in on Sundays like it’s a constitutional right.

He blinks, dazed and warm and puffy-eyed, as your voice floats into the bedroom.

“Jakey,” you call softly. “Wake up baby. I made you breakfast.”

Jake sits up slowly. His hair’s a mess. His eyes are crusty. He’s half-hard under the blanket because of a dream he already forgot, and his first thought is:

Are you possessed?

“Baby?” you peek your head in, grinning.

Jake squints. “Wait. Did I die?”

You giggle. “No, dummy.”

“Did you die?”

“No.”

“Then why are you—” he looks down at the tray you’re carrying, eyes wide, “—bringing me pancakes?”

You sit beside him on the bed and brush a kiss to his cheek. “Because I love you.”

Jake flinches like you slapped him.

“You do?” he says, eyes watery.

You roll your eyes fondly. “Obviously.”

He leans against you, still confused but clinging like a koala.

Jake is an affectionate idiot, he clings without realizing, kisses without thinking, forgets his keys in your purse because “you’re the safe place.” But today, something about you is different.

You’re not just being kind, you’re being intentional.

You kiss him before he leaves the house.

You help him find his shoes even though they’re right where he always leaves them.

You pack his lunch. Write a little note.

And when he comes home after hanging with Sunghoon, there’s candles on the table.

Candles.

Jake stops in the doorway, staring.

“…Are we summoning something?”

You turn, wearing that adorable outfit, the one he kept staring at the day you tried it on in the store, too stunned to speak, until you went “should I not get it?” and he panic-yelled “NO GET IT GET IT.”

You wore it.

For him.

Jake gulps.

“Did I do something right?” he asks. “Or did I do something wrong and this is the part before you kill me?”

You walk over and wrap your arms around his waist, laying your cheek against his chest. “You did everything right.”

Jake stands frozen. His whole body is stiff, except for one very obvious part.

You notice.

Of course you do.

You giggle. “You’re so easy.”

Jake whines. “You’re being so nice to me. It’s turning me on. That feels unethical.”

Dinner is perfect.

You give him his favorite part of the steak.

You laugh at every one of his terrible jokes.

You even rub his knee under the table like you want him.

Jake’s not used to being the pretty one in the relationship. You’re hot. So hot. It makes no sense to anyone that you date a guy who once cried during an animal shelter ad and accidentally set his microwave on fire trying to make instant ramen.

And yet.

You treat him like he’s the prize.

Jake wants to cry.

And then…

You give him a gift.

Wrapped. Bow and all.

Jake tears it open, confused, and finds:

A framed photo of you two, from your beach trip where Jake got sunburned and you made fun of his farmer’s tan.

A pressed flower from the first bouquet he gave you. He thought you threw it out.

A tiny hand-written book titled: “101 Reasons Why I’m Glad You’re Mine”

Jake blinks down at the cover.

“I—I don’t—” he stammers.

And then, finally, his eyes flick to the calendar on the wall.

The date glows like a punch to the gut.

Anniversary. Three years.

Jake forgot.

You didn’t.

“Jake,” you say softly, sitting beside him on the bed. “You okay?”

He looks like you kicked his puppy.

“I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

“No you’re not.”

“I am. You did all this. And I didn’t even get you, like— like a card. Or a rock I found outside. Or a dumb doodle or a weird TikTok link or, anything.”

You rest your hand on his.

Jake’s bottom lip wobbles. He sniffles.

“It’s okay,” you say gently. “You always forget dates. I kind of expected it.”

That only makes it worse.

“You knew I’d forget?” he says, heartbroken.

You give a small, sad smile. “It’s not about remembering. It’s about trying.”

Jake stares at you.

And then, without a word, he kneels.

He presses kisses to your thigh. Your knee. Your hip.

Your stomach.

“Let me make it up to you,” he murmurs. “Please.”

He worships you.

That’s the only word for it.

Jake moves with reverence. He kisses you like he’s trying to apologize with his mouth, long, wet kisses that leave you gasping.

When you slide his shirt off, he fumbles a little with yours.

“Can I see you?” he whispers. “Please?”

You nod.

Jake groans the second your top’s off. His hands are greedy, trembling, desperate. But still gentle.

He takes his time.

So much time.

“Turn around?” you ask softly, cheeks warm. “I wanna ride you. That way.”

Jake’s brain short-circuits.

“Reverse— um what is it— um?”

“Reverse cowgirl?.”

Jake whines, already tugging his pants off. “I don’t even know if my heart can take that.”

You straddle him, slow and teasing.

And when you sink down, his hands fly to your hips.

Then hesitate.

Then slowly, tentatively, cup your ass.

“Can I?” he whispers, voice wrecked.

You nod.

Jake lets out the dirtiest moan you’ve ever heard.

“Your ass is insane,” he babbles. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna die. This is my punishment. You’re punishing me.”

He doesn’t even thrust.

He just holds you there, buried inside, cock so deep and warm that it feels like you’re melting together.

“P—please,” he breathes. “You’re so warm— n’so pretty. Like a goddess. Like an avenging angel with the softest—oh my god—you clenched.”

You giggle.

“I’m sorry,” he moans. “I know I forgot. I know I don’t deserve this. But I love you. I love you so much I feel it in my spine.”

You lean back slightly, rocking your hips once.

Jake chokes.

“I’ll never forget again,” he gasps. “Swear to god. I’ll tattoo it. I’ll set calendar alerts. I’ll carve it into my desk.”

You bounce once.

Jake screams.

You’re both laughing by the time he flips you over and kisses you breathless, trying to say everything with his hands and his mouth and his body that he forgot to say with words.

And after, when he’s soft inside you, buried to the hilt, and you’re both tangled and warm and sticky, Jake whispers:

“Next year I’m doing the most. Be ready.”

You hum, nuzzling into his chest. “Can’t wait.”

🪷 ─── @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto (join the taglist guys..)

[kitysugar]

pretty best friend ~ park sunghoon x reader

inspired by this request ! ౨ৎ ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ in which sunghoon helps his cute, innocent little best friend out after she asks for some.... advice. and despite knowing that he's a player - you had feelings for him anyways.. but little did you know he feels the same way.

word count ; 4.7k

best friend! player! sunghoon x nerd! reader , friends to lovers , blowjob , oral , fingering , hand job , very slight hints at ; corruption ; manipulation . curious reader , size kink , mutual feelings , HEAD PUSHER HOON YES YES YES , cum eating , not proof read

"sungie" you squeal , the feeling of sunghoons fingers squeezing your waist results in a loud laugh to sound from the back of your throat. sunghoons deep, raspy chuckles make a deep heat pool in the pit of your stomach , a guilty feeling lingering on your conscience for thinking of him in the ways you do. the way his hands feel on your skin makes you feel light headed - whether it be from the tickling, or the fact that he was touching you at all - the answer was unknown , and quite frankly; you didn't care enough to know.

as you lay beneath him, your legs attempt to kick his body away from yours - your hands find their way to his broad shoulders in order to push him back. but as you lay under him squealing his name - everything around you begins to feel rapidly hot , and sunghoon feels the exact same way.

the way his big hands swallow the entirety of your waist , your little legs desperately fighting against him, and the way his name spills past your lips.

all he wants to do is kiss them to shut you up, fuck you raw right there, make you scream his name, begging for him to grant you release.

suddenly, the memory of different girls begins to flash through his mind ; all the different times he's had multiple women screeching his name , begging him to fuck them faster - harder . but as of right now, the only woman he can truly adore to the fullest extent was already writhing underneath him.... but not in the ways he wants.

sunghoon comes back to his senses once he hears you whisperly call his name, a perfect little string of music that flows right into his ears that snaps him out of his lustful daze.

"s-sungie...?" you question, your round, doe eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes. sunghoon can feel himself tighten in his jeans, making him uncomfortable.

"how many girls have you had under you like this..." the question slips from your lips without consciousness , making you instantly shut your mouth , regret beginning to pool in your mind.

sunghoons face instantly changes , his eyes holding the utmost sincerity... sadness at the mention of the other women.

"... 'm sorry.." you whisper, your eyes darting away from him in order to look at something - anything else but him. sunghoon sighs and sits up, you following in pursuit. the two of you awkwardly sit next to eachother, the silence lingering in the air above you.

sunghoon chuckles before speaking, making you look at him in confusion.

"well, if im honest... too many to count really. i don't remember a good handful of them.." he smirks slightly at you, making a deep blush rise to your cheeks.

"so... you're experienced??" you question, making sunghoon tongue the inside of his cheek. he stretches one arm around you in order to rest on the couch, his legs spreading apart... inviting.

"yeah, i guess you can say i am... now; how about we get back to studying... you have a test coming up, dont you?" you respond with a head nod, making the man next to you grab a textbook from off the coffee table and handing it to you.

your glasses are perched on the tip of your nose , so you push them up.

you were a freshman in college, and the transition from highschool to university life was definitely kicking your ass. of course, you had always been keen to school life; you enjoyed it really. you loved learning new things and carrying around cute school supplies, it made you feel good about yourself whenever you learned something new... made you feel smart... so you kept going on with your love for learning into your early college years.

sunghoon, on the otherhand, was a couple years older than you; a senior in college. although he a couple years older, that didn't stop the two of you from being inseparable from an early age.

around an hour later, you hear sunghoon groan from the other side of the couch, pushing his glasses up and over his head.

"i'm not understanding, y/n... why on earth would you major in something so difficult... i don't even understand this and i've been in college longer than you have.” his messy hair being pushed back makes him look ten times more attractive.

"i dunno... i guess i just wanted a challenge." you shrug your shoulders, making the man across from you deadpan.

"whatever, lets just take a break and come back to it in a bit" he says, grabbing the book and pen from out of your hands and setting them back down on the coffee table. as sunghoon reaches over, you take note of his appearance; rolled up sleeves that stop right above his elbow, disheveled hair, tired eyes, and full lips.

as sunghoon turns to you, a deep shade of pink arises on your cheeks. you look away from him, trying not to seem awkward.

"so, y/n.. tell me; have you had sex yet?" you nearly scream at his words, choking on your own spit as soon as they leave his mouth. you turn and face him ominously, your face completely red and your eyes as wide as the moon.

"what on earth... why are you asking me this?" you squeal, hitting his bicep. sunghoon chuckles at your flustered state, his heart swelling in his chest at your actions.

"i'm just asking, come on you're in college... you had to have lost your v-card by now" he taunts, but quickly loses all sort of amusement laced in his expression once you turn to face your lap, playing with your fingers.

"well... there is this guy i like... but we havent done anything yet. im too scared. i dont know what im doing..." you look up into his eyes through your eyelashes, not turning your head to face him. sunghoon leans back into the cushions of the couch, spreading his arms to dangle on both sides of the back of the piece of furniture. sunghoon raises his eyebrows, urging you to continue.

"i- i was.. uhm... wondering if-- i don't know... you could possibly teach me..?" your voice was small... but sunghoon heard it as clear as day. now it was his turn to choke on his spit, completely flustered by your question.

he quickly gets his act together, smirking at your shy demeanor. you feel helpless under his gaze, quickly regretting your question.

"you don't have to, it was a dumb question im sor-"

"what would you like me to teach you, love?" he asks, his eyes never leaving your smaller figure. you raise your head completely, your hands still fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. you ponder for a moment, debating on how to answer his question before speaking once more.

"i want... i want to know how to suck.. uhm,, god this is so dumb.." you sadly chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head, breaking eye contact. sunghoon eyes you for a moment, instantly knowing what you wish to know.

"you wanna know how to suck cock?" you nod your head slowly, stunned at his straightforwardness. sunghoon eyes you for a moment more before lifting one of his hands up, motioning with his index finger for you to come to him; so you do.

"come here" your feet patter on the cool hardwood floor, stopping to stand in front of sunghoons spread legs. the man chuckles from below you, his hands coming in contact with the back of your thighs right below your ass.

"are you sure you wanna do this" you instantly nod your head without a second thought, wanting nothing more than for sunghoon to teach you how to pleasure a man,,,

the very one who sits before you , actually

at your words, he instantly brings you to sit on his lap, your knees meeting with the plush cushioning of the couch on either side of his hips. your face is mere centimeters away from his, your breaths fanning one another’s face.

"first... you don't want to just jump straight into it. both men and women need some sort of foreplay.. and the easiest version of that is kissing; a makeout session really." the two of you stare at eachother for a moment, one of sunghoons hands comes up to push a stray hair away from your face and behind your ear. your heart is beating out of your chest, your head feeling light and he hasnt even touched you yet.

"can i kiss you?" sunghoon asks, which makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. you shakingly exhale before nodding your head without saying anything. the man above you looks down at your lips before trailing them back up towards your wide eyes - eyeballing you shamelessly.

sunghoon slowly brings your lips to his own, the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen deepening significantly the moment his mouth collides with yours softly. your lips are full and glossy, but is quickly smeared thanks to sunghoon.

after a long second, the two of you pull away to breathe... looking at eachother fully, longingly. the tension in the room as thick as ice is quickly cut, sunghoons hand cupping your cheek brings your face down frantically - your guys' lips meeting eachother once more... but this time its much different.

you feel both of his hands move to the slope of your waist, pulling you into him further - your back arching and your body curling into his front.

your hands slide up from his shoulders in order to wrap around his neck, your fingers lacing in with his dark hair. your breasts press up against his chest, and your lips move perfectly in sync with his.

the sounds of your heavy breathing fill the room along with sloppy lip smacking, but neither of you complain. sunghoons hands move your hips down onto his lap, the bulge quickly tightening in his jeans. you gasp when you feel his hardening length press right up against your clothed pussy, your fingers tightening in his hair cause him to groan into the cavern of your wet mouth.

you shiver under his touch, his fingers feather light as you curl into him deeper. every inch of your body yerns for the man above you, making a whimper escape your lips.

the kiss quickly deescalates as you pull away from sunghoons lips in order for air - but not before he pecks your lips a couple times. he leans back into the couch, the two of you exchanging aching, yearnful glances. your heavy breathing matches his - your chests' rising and falling in unison.

"sunghoon..." your eyes are half lidded as you speak, and it begins to drive sunghoon up the wall. he admires the adorable look on your face , everything about you is perfect and it frustrates him beyond belief. although he is experienced, he feels like a teenage boy having his first makeout session.

"yeah baby?" he calls out to you breathlessly, making your pussy clench. you dont break eye contact as you speak, making a shiver run up sunghoons spine.

"can i suck your cock... please..?" you ask nicely, in an almost pleading tone. it takes every ounce of restraint in order to stop himself from bending you over the couch and stuffing you full of his cum, fucking it deeper and deeper inside you - permanently marking you as his.

his woman.

"of course you can doll, go right ahead" he leans further back into the couch, getting a full view of you perched cutely in his lap - your skirt riding up your thighs and your zip-up hoodie falling off one of your shoulders.

you slowly get off the mans lap, a prominent bulge showing in his jeans. your mouth waters at the sight, excitement flowing through your veins. as you sink to your knees, you maintain eyecontact with the man above you, your pussy clenching around nothing at his lustful gaze.

your hands work at his zipper, pulling his pants down past his ankles. the tent in his boxers grows exponentially bigger, and you can tell that he's fucking huge. you stop to stare at him, eyeballing the outline of his dick through his underwear.

on instinct, you reach a hand out in order to palm him through the flimsy fabric of his boxers - making sunghoon hiss from above you. your eyes don't look away from his length, not for a second as you jerk him off slightly. a prominent wet patch begins to form on the light color of his underwear, making a gasp leave your lips.

"did i... did i make you.. already..?" you gawk up at him, making a laugh bubble up from his chest. you tilt your head to the side in question, and sunghoon finds it so fucking adorable at the realization of how innocent you actually are.

"no baby... thats just precum, you really don't know anything huh? how can you be so smart yet naive at the same time?" he taunts jokingly, mimicking your actions and tilting his head to the side.

you deadpan at the man, an unentertained look spreading across your face. without looking away, you bring your fingers to the tip of his dick, wrapping your hands around his head and squeezing slightly, making more precum stain his boxers.

sunghoon hisses, letting out a string of loud curses at your actions. you smile to yourself slightly, finding it funny just how fast you can make him fall apart in your hands.

you gasp at the feeling of one of his hands in your hair, yanking your head back slightly in order to make your eyes meet with his. every ounce of playfulness leaves your body as the older man stares into your eyes , a threatening look lingering written on his face

"don't be a brat. understand?" you pout your lips, but nod your head anyways. sunghoon leans down in order to kiss the tip of your nose before letting you go gently.

"good girl" he compliments, making your cheeks flush for the nth time that evening. your hands reach up to the waistline of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs and past his ankles. sunghoons pretty cock springs free, shooting up to slap his abdomen, his bulbous tip hitting right at his belly button.

fat, pearly drops of precum leak from his tip and down his shaft, making your eyes widen. you were right; he is huge. you gawk at the length, making his ego swell.

"never seen a dick before, huh?" you shake your head no, at least not in person.. one of your hands reaching up in order to softly grab the base of his cock in your hands. sunghoon observes your actions intently, his eyes burning holes into your skull. your hand lightly wraps around his cock, squeezing his length slightly. it takes you a moment; but you begin to pump him. you watch as more pearly beads of precum leak out of his tip, finding the sight mesmerizing.

after pumping his dick for a little bit, you bring your lips closer to the tip of his shaft, sticking your tongue out slightly in order to kitten lick the slit of his head.

sunghoon has had his dick sucked many times before... but with the way you keep looking up at him through his eyelashes - searching for any sort of validation that you're doing a good job is making him feel like a virgin again.

only you could have this sort of effect on him. he could just about reach down his throat and rip his heart out and give it to you on a silver platter.

you kitten lick his tip over and over - getting used to the salty taste of his warm seed before you take the head of his dick into your mouth completely. the warmth that your velvety, wet mouth provides makes him shudder under your gaze, his eyes rolling back into his skull ever so slightly. you attempt to take his cock deeper into your mouth, but the odd taste of his salty precum makes you gag around his length - you quickly pull off of him and cough , not used to the feeling of him being in your throat in the slightest.

sunghoon finds your actions cute - his ego expanding ever so slightly.

"god... its so- its so much.." you say in heavy breaths, trying to compose yourself. sunghoon looks down at you, his eyes holding admiration.

"its okay baby, take your time okay? this is normal. you've never sucked anybody off before. its alright, go nice and slow.." his voice trails off as you take his head back into your mouth, attempting to get used to his taste even more. you hollow your cheeks, your tongue swirling around his tip as you begin to bob your head up and down slightly - almost as if you were sucking on the tip of a lolipop.

every time you pull yourself off of his dick, your tongue runs over the slit of his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue. you look up at sunghoon - your doe eyes making direct eye contact with his as you lick down his entire length, running your tongue down the underside of his cock.

"fuck just like that.." he moans at the feeling of your tongue and the sinful sight of your eyes and actions - he feels like he could bust right then and there all over your face and he would enjoy it to the fullest.

"s-so fucking good... good girl" you're making it hard to believe you've never done this, but it's the truth. you take his tip into your mouth once more, your head moving up and down as you begin to suck him off again. one of your hands moves towards the base of his dick, gripping it in your hand as you begin to jerk off the remaining length you haven't fit into your mouth yet.

you hear another moan sound from just above you, making your confidence sky rocket. your hand and mouth move around him, the combined slick of your saliva and his precum making the perfect lubricant in order to have him shaking in your hold.

"god fucking... fuck. just like that... doin' such a good job.." at the sound of his praise, you start to take his length deeper down your throat, your eyes watering at the weird feeling. you breathe in deeply through your nose, adjusting to the newfound feeling. you swallow around him, making sunghoon buck his hips into your face on accident. you gag around him, but decide to continue on. your head bobs faster up and down sunghoons cock, your hand that was previously jerking him off coming down to grip his balls in your hands - fondling and playing with them.

"oh my fucking god, takin' my cock so well.." he praises. the dampness in your eyes falls freely down your warm, flushed cheeks but you could care less. as you breathe in through your nose, you swallow around him again, making sure to keep your cheeks hollowed while your tongue runs along the vein that trails down on the underside of his cock.

one of sunghoons hands comes down to wrap itself in your hair, his fingers tugging on your colored locks. at first, he just keeps his hand in your hair - but as you keep using your pretty little mouth in all the ways that you do ; he begins to push your head up and down .

a hum leaves your throat, which in turn sends vibrations throughout sunghoons entire body.

"s-shit-" he curses, the grip in your hair tightening significantly before he forces you to take his dick deeper, his bulbous tip hitting the back of your throat. you attempt to cough around his length, your nose coming down to press snugly against his pelvis.

you swallow around him again, more tears escaping your eyes as you try your best not to disappoint him. sunghoon just about falls apart from under you; his hips sputtering against your face in a sloppy grinding rhythm that has you gripping his thighs to ground yourself.

after a moment, sunghoon loosens his hold on you, letting you come up for air.

but the way you keep bobbing your head up and down on his cock takes him by surprise.

"s-so warm.. god you're perfect" your mouth comes up to suck on his tip once more, and before you can even look up to see his reaction - you feel his cock twitch in your mouth

"im- im gonna cum fuck... where do you want me baby?" you've heard of girls swallowing their boyfriends cum before, so it cant be so bad right? you keep your glossy lips wrapped around his tip as you suck down a little rougher, your hand coming down to play with his balls once more. you hear a raspy 'fuck' before you feel his salty, warm cum shoot into your mouth.

you instantly regret your decision, the taste being unfamiliar and weird has you gagging and shaking your head - but your ego tells you to continue, so you do.

you take his load into your mouth before detaching from his head, his dick beginning to soften ever so slightly. sunghoon looks down at you before he raises his hand to grab your face lightly inbetween his fingers. your lips part slightly, making a couple drops of his cum drip down your chin.

"god you're perfect... you wanna spit it out love?" you ponder for a second, but ultimately decide on swallowing his load. your face contorts into a sour expression, showing your distaste. sunghoon coos at you, a soft laugh sounding from his mouth.

"you're so fucking adorable, you didn't have to swallow sweetheart..." he pouts, making you smile slightly.

"i wanted to, i thought that was normal..... it tasted- weird." you giggle, and sunghoon leans down to kiss your forehead as he cups your cheek.

"now... how about i show you something else too, huh?" you shoot him a questioning look before he lifts you up onto the cough, laying you down so your back is flush against the cushions of the couch. you look up at sunghoon and wrap your arms around his shoulders before he leans down to kiss you, taking your lips in his.

you feel his hands sneak down to your waist, pinning your body down against the couch. his lips move in a steady, perfect rhythm with his that has you quietly whimpering into his mouth. the man detaches from your lips only to start trailing wet kisses down the skin of your neck.

your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of him sucking deep purple hickeys into your skin, desperate moans filling the air around you.

"s-sung..." he hums at the sound of his name leaving your lips, acknowledging you quietly. the man then trails his kisses down your body tauntingly slow before he reaches the waistband of your little skirt.

sunghoon looks up at you through his eyebrows before kissing your pelvis bone through the fabric of your skirt. your chest heaves up and down in short, frantic breaths once you feel his cold hands slide up the sides of your thighs , trailing them upwards and under your skirt.

"can i take this off?" you rapidly blink, questioning his motives.

"hoon... w-wait i thought... you were- i thought..." he cocks his eyebrows up, making your wetness pool in your panties.

"will you let me show you what it feels like to have your pussy ate, my love? want hoonie to make you feel good?" you ponder for a second, hesitating on the thought.

"what if.. what if i taste bad or i can't finish,,, or-"

"baby, i don't care. let me taste this pretty pussy, yeah? wanna let sungie fuck you with his tongue? split you apart?" you whimper at his vulgar words, your eyes fluttering closed while you shake your head yes.

at the confirmation, he slides the fabric of your skirt down and passed your ankles, throwing it down on the ground to be forgotten. sunghoon refocuses his attention to the prominent wet patch littering the pink lacy underwear.

"god, you're so wet already and i haven't even touched you" he teases you through half lidded eyes, the cold pad of his finger coming in contact with your clothed clit. you whine at his actions, the butterflies in your stomach making your head cloud over with nothing but the dirty, vile thoughts of everything you want sunghoon to do to you.

the way he gently starts to massage shapes into your bundle of nerves has you quietly speaking his name, your hands coming down to bunch his hair inbetween your fingers.

sunghoon pushes your panties to the side, his fingers slipping through your wet folds. a hiss sounds from just below your hips, the feeling of your slick dripping through his fingers is indescribable.

"such a pretty pussy" he eyeballs you, making you feel shy underneath his lingering gaze.

your clit twitches repeatedly thanks to the gentle friction he creates, your back arching off the couch in order to help your hips grind into his hand.

after a moment, you feel sunghoon plunge a long finger into your pussy, your mouth slacking open in a perfect O shape as moans and whimpers dance off your tongue in a beautiful chant, all for sunghoon and sunghoon alone.

"how does it feel, angel face?" his breath fans your pussy as he speaks, and all coherent thoughts fall out of your brain as quickly as they come.

"s-s' good,,- feels s' good please" you squeak, your thighs spreading apart even further to grant him more access.

"so tight, perfect little virgin pussy all spread out just for me" his free hand comes down to peel your panties further to the side, his tongue darting out in order to lick a stripe up your wet slit, gathering your juices on his tongue.

"tastes so sweet, my sweetest girl" your face flushes at his words, but your hips grind up into his face once he wraps his lips around your clit in order to suck down on the bundle of nerves.

"oh my god" you squeal at the newfound feeling, your heart beating out of your chest so rapidly, you're convinced it could burst at any given moment.

"sucking in my finger so perfectly, i don't think you can take any more baby" you shake your head no, but the prominent pout on his lips taunts you into thinking you can take just a little more.

sunghoon adds another finger swiftly into your hole, stretching you even more with his his slender fingers. you hiss at the stretch, trying your hardest to adjust to the newfound sensation that radiates throughout your body in ripples. the way sunghoons tongue laps at your heat as if he were desperately searching for the last sip of water drives you insane - he cant help himself , you're just too fucking sweet.

"i feel weird, hoonie i- i cant , feels s' weird" your eyes squeeze shut as white-hot pleasure shoots through your veins . your fingers tug on his hair harsly and your hips buck up into his mouth, everything begins to feel hot and overstimulating, a thin layer of sweat forming on the skin of your forehead.

"let it happen sweet, you gonna cum for me?" he asks, even though he already has his answer the moment his fingers find the sweetspot that adorns your velvety, tight walls.

"please, please please please a-ah" his teeth biting down on your clit send you into overdrive - your abdomen tightens as the string in your tummy snaps - juices squirting all over the lower half of sunghoons face as your pussy squeezes his digits tightly.

"there you go, look so so pretty when you're makin' a mess all over me... my pretty little cum slut, hmm" his eyes widen as you cream around his fingers, white gooey slick oozing from your hole where his fingers fuck you apart sloppily.

"sun-sungie fuck" your hips and thighs jolt in his hold, and you can feel yourself come crashing down from your high at lightening speed. as your body relaxes into sunghoon, he pulls his fingers out of your fluttering hole.

"god you're absolutely perfect"

[redpulsive]

SYLUS ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡ Marking him up with lipstick before he takes a shower!

♡──♡──♡──♡──♡──♡──♡──♡

You take an opportunity to tease him before the two of you have a little date night together.

As you get ready for your date with Sylus, you’re finishing up your makeup look in the bathroom by putting on your favorite lipstick. Sylus walks in at the perfect time, clad in nothing but his leisurely robe as he heads to the shower before getting ready. You turn to him and gently grab the fabric that drapes him, stopping him in his tracks. He raises his eyebrow and a flashes you small smirk, slightly confused by your action. “What’s the matter, kitten? Are you going to miss me too much while I’m in the shower? Who knew you could be so clingy.” He teases. You play along with his teasing by requesting a kiss from him before he gets in the shower, which he happily obliges. As he leans in for a smooch, you quickly kiss him on the cheek instead. He looks in the mirror and sees the lipstick mark you gave him before glancing back at you. He feigns disappointment as he addresses your behavior. “Oh, that’s it? Seems like you won’t miss me that much if you’re only giving me a small kiss on the cheek.” You shake your head at his claim, pretending to care as you grab ahold his face and give him a kiss on his other cheek. He lets out a million dollar chuckle as he holds you by your hips and gently pulls you closer to him, begging for more. “Ah, what a little trickster you are. I suppose I can indulge in your game for a short while.” With his permission, you continue to pepper his face with kisses. Leaving marks on corners of his mouth, around his eyes, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, everywhere but his lips until his face looks like it’s riddled with a lipstick oriented disease. He keeps his eyes closed, occasionally opening them to see the reflection of the damage you’ve caused in the mirror, smirking to himself as you torture his face with your pretty lips. Eventually he gets a little dazed from the barrage of kisses, rubbing your back to try to get you to relax. “Alright, kitten… we need to-” before he can finish that sentence, you move your kissing assault down to his neck. He lets out a small huff and narrows his eyes, lightly squeezing your hip while his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly at the sensation. “Mm… you really can’t get enough, can you?” You shake your head as you don’t stop, leaving kiss after kiss until his neck is also plagued with the lipstick disease. “Sweetie…” he whines, pleading with you as the two of you share a glance with eachother. You don’t listen to his plea as your mouth starts making its descent to trail kisses down his chest, but you only get a few lipstick marks in before he suddenly cups your chin and stops you. You look a bit surprised as he tilts your head up to face him, giving himself access to plant a single sweet kiss on your lips, making you mark the one spot you purposefully missed. “I beat your game.” He rubs a thumb over your bottom lip as he whispers in your ear, smirking at your sheepish reaction. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed it, but perhaps we should continue playing after our date. Then I won’t have a reason to wash off all of your markings until we wake up tomorrow.” He lets go of you and pinches your cheek before looking at himself in the mirror one last time. He’s taking in how much your lips have claimed him before ridding himself of his robe and stepping into the shower to clean your personal canvas for later use.

Aughhh this one was so fun to write!! I’d do anything to be able to kiss this man all over.

♡──♡──♡──♡──♡──♡──♡──♡

[ash5monster01]

Hi again! Can I request hugging and kissing Randall pink Floyd while dating? ♥️🖤

Can’t Get Enough

Pairing: Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, PDA, allusions to smut (barely), lots of kissing, annoyance, established relationship

Summary: You just can’t get enough of your boyfriend and it’s starting to annoy your friends.

word count: 400+

Masterlist

It’s no surprise to anyone that you have Pink’s lips pressed against yours the second you’re at his locker. The boy barely reacting before kissing you back, hands settling on your hips and guiding your back against the lockers. Groans from Don and Kevin follow, annoyed that you had cut them off and Pinks attention was now on you. There was no limit to the PDA and all of your friends were close to being over it.

“Get a room” Don says, shoving Pinks shoulder and breaking his lips from your own. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, not the least bit ashamed by the small obsession with your boyfriend.

“We would if we could” Pink answers for you both, body still pressed against your own. You could stay trapped between him and these lockers all day.

“It’s getting old always seeing you two suck face, save it for after school” Kevin says and you laugh, hugging your boyfriend close.

“You guys yell at us then too, so what I like to show my boyfriend how much I love him” you say, tone innocent and soft cheek pressed to his chest as you wrap yourself around him.

“I love you more” Pink says, lips finding your own again and both Kevin and Don wave their arms, eyes rolling as they walk away from the both of you. Uninterested in watching you two suck face.

You happily and shamelessly make out with your boyfriend against the lockers, never tiring of how his mouth always tastes faintly of cherries and weed. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as his tongue trails along your bottom lip, slowly slipping into your mouth and curling against your own. When your fingers tangle in his hair you wish more than anything you were somewhere other than the school halls.

“Alrightttt” Slater’s familiar voice cuts you off, laughing against each others mouths at your clearly stoned friend who passes by.

“What do you say we skip class?” Pink whispers and you smile, arms wrapped around his form as you think of his entirely welcoming El Camino parked in the parking lot.

“I mean we’re already late anyway” you whisper back and he only grins, knowing that had answered his question. His arm wrapping around your shoulders as he guides you out of the school, ducking away from the sight of teachers.

That way he can have you to himself as much as he wants.

[tender-rosiey]

Hey I want to request a husband!gojo getting his wisdom teeth pulled out and he is high af from the anesthesia. I just imagine him forgetting everything and starts acting dumb. This would be huge blackmail material for nobara and megumi lol

peacock — gojo satoru x f!reader

as soon as you step into the recovery room, the sight of him almost makes you burst out laughing. satoru is slouched in the chair, limbs draped over the sides, his usual composed demeanor replaced with utter disarray.

his eyes, free of his blindfold, are dazed and unfocused, those brilliant blue irises practically swimming in confusion.

his cheeks are puffed out comically with gauze, and he’s staring up at the ceiling like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

when his eyes eventually find you, they widen dramatically, his entire face lighting up like he’s just seen a miracle.

"oh. my. god," he gasps, his voice muffled by the cotton stuffed in his mouth, but his tone is thick with awe and disbelief. “you’re... you're an angel. a real one.”

you bite your lip, barely managing to stifle the laughter bubbling up. “satoru, it’s me,” you say, moving closer to him.

he squints at you, leaning forward so far that he nearly tips over, his eyes narrowing as he’s trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. “wait... we know each other?”

you fight back a smile. “I’m your wife.”

there’s a beat of silence before his eyes widen again, and he jerks back so dramatically that the chair creaks beneath him.

“wife? no way!” he grips the armrests with exaggerated strength, staring at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. “are you serious? we’re married? to each other?”

you giggle as you nod, “for a while now.”

he slumps back, his head rolling to the side with a long, exaggerated groan. his entire body sinks into the chair.

“wow. I did it. I really did it,” he says, staring up at the ceiling again, his eyes unfocused and dazed. “I married the hottest person in the universe. I win at life.”

your lips twitch into a grin, watching him bask in his drugged-out epiphany. “you sure did,” you say, unable to stop yourself from laughing softly.

you move to help him up, sliding your arm around his waist as he wobbles to his feet, legs unsteady like a baby giraffe taking its first steps.

but as you start guiding him toward the door, he plants his feet firmly on the ground, stopping you with a wild-eyed, serious expression. “wait, wait, wait,” he says, his hand reaching out to grab yours with surprising urgency.

his fingers are warm, clumsy in their grip, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that, even through the haze of anesthesia, is so satoru.

his face is scrunched up in deep thought, brows furrowed as though he’s wrestling with the most critical question of his life. “I need to know something... something important.”

you raise an eyebrow, watching him try to focus, his blue eyes narrowing. “okay, what is it?”

“do we... do we kiss?”

you can’t help it—this time, you let out a snort of laughter. “yes, satoru, we kiss. all the time.”

he blinks slowly, his mouth hanging open in awe, eyes sparkling with newfound wonder.

“no way! I knew it. I’m so good at kissing, aren’t I?” he beams, his prideful grin exaggerated by the swollen cheeks, making him look utterly ridiculous. “I knew I was a natural.”

you chuckle, shaking your head as you tighten your hold on him, guiding him toward the exit. “you’re definitely something,” you mutter under your breath.

but, of course, satoru has no intention of walking in a straight line, let alone staying quiet. he stops again, turning his head to you with a deeply perplexed look, like he’s trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe.

“wait… wait… there’s these kids,” he says, gesturing wildly, nearly knocking the clipboard off the counter.

“they’re always hanging around. the loud pink-haired one, the grumpy one, and the one who keeps yelling. who are they? why are they always following me?”

you sigh through a laugh, shaking your head as you guide him forward. “those are your students, satoru. yuuji, megumi, and nobara.”

his face lights up with recognition—or something close to it. “yuuji! yeah, yeah, the kid who talks to everything. I like him. he’s my pokemon.”

you snicker, struggling to keep him upright as he sways like he’s on a boat in the middle of a storm. “he is your student, not a pokemon,” you remind him gently.

he waves his hand dismissively. “nah, nah, he’s my pokemon.”

you shake your head, unable to stop smiling. “sure, satoru. whatever you say.”

“and megumi!” satoru perks up again, his eyes sparkling. “my little emo sunshine. I keep trying to make him smile, but it’s, like, so hard. do you think he’s broken?”

his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning closer to you. “should we fix him?”

you let out a small laugh, trying to keep him from stumbling as you approach the door. “I think megumi’s just fine, satoru.”

satoru gasps, clutching at your arm. “don’t tell me... he’s also your best friend? is he my rival?”

before you can respond, the door to the recovery room swings open, and standing in the hallway are yuuji, nobara, and megumi.

nobara is the first to spot satoru, her eyes widening before she bursts into uncontrollable laughter, clutching her stomach as she doubles over.

“oh my god, this is amazing!” nobara cackles, already pulling out her phone and aiming the camera at satoru. “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life.”

yuuji grins widely, waving enthusiastically. “sensei! you okay?”

satoru beams at the sight of yuuji, grinning so wide that his swollen cheeks puff out even more.

“yuuji! my pokemon!” he tries to wave but nearly tips over, forcing you to steady him with both hands. “I missed you, man! when did you get here?”

yuuji looks bewildered for a moment. “pokemon?”

nobara is still laughing uncontrollably, already typing on her phone with one hand while recording with the other. “fushiguro, please tell me you’re getting this. this is gold!”

megumi, for his part, just stands there with his arms crossed, a sigh escaping his lips. but you can see the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, a rare sign of amusement.

meanwhile, satoru is now waving his arms around excitedly, turning back to yuuji. “we should totally start a band! you play drums, and I’ll sing. we’ll call it...gojo and the gojos!”

yuuji blinks in surprise, his jaw dropping slightly. “uh, what?”

nobara howls with laughter, her camera still rolling. “oh my god, this is going in the group chat. no, actually, this is going everywhere.”

megumi shakes his head, his expression caught between amusement and exasperation. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters.

you sigh, shaking your head fondly at the absolute circus unfolding around you. “alright, superstar,” you say, gently pulling satoru toward the exit, “let’s get you home before you say anything else you’ll regret.”

satoru grins, his eyes half-lidded but still full of wonder, like he’s just discovered something miraculous. “home? with my wife? yes, please. best. day. ever.”

as you manage to pull satoru a few steps closer to the door, his weight leaning heavily against you, he suddenly halts.

you glance at him, bracing yourself for another round of his ridiculous, anesthesia-fueled revelations, but nothing—nothing—could prepare you for what comes next.

“wait,” he says, his voice low and serious, as if he's about to share the most critical, world-altering secret.

his glassy eyes look at you intensely, filled with wild determination. “I need to do something important before we leave.”

you blink at him, confused. “satoru, what could you possibly—”

before you can finish your sentence, he dramatically pulls away from you, somehow managing to stand on his own. with the grace of a baby giraffe on ice, he wobbles toward the center of the room, ignoring your protests.

“satoru—”

he shushes you loudly, a single finger pressed to his lips as he glances over his shoulder, his expression way too serious for someone who can’t walk straight.

“shhh. this is between me and the universe.”

you exchange a bewildered look with yuuji, who’s still watching in awe, nobara recording every second, and megumi now sighing deeply, clearly bracing himself for whatever absurdity satoru is about to unleash.

then, with absolutely no warning, satoru starts unbuttoning his shirt.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you yelp, rushing forward to stop him, but you’re too late.

he rips his shirt open dramatically, buttons flying everywhere, revealing his bandaged, puffy cheeks, along with his very confused, bare chest.

“satoru—oh my god—”

but he’s not done. no, of course he’s not. he thrusts his arms out to the side, chest puffed out proudly, and yells at the top of his lungs:

“I AM A PEACOCK, WATCH ME SOAR!”

the room falls into stunned silence for a moment. nobara freezes mid-recording, mouth hanging open in disbelief, while yuuji’s jaw drops, eyes wide with sheer awe.

megumi, however, just buries his face in his hands.

“I cannot believe I know this man,” megumi mutters under his breath, his tone one of deep regret.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize

check out my buy me a coffee!

[mariasont]

Peak Ovulation - A.H

your period tracker warned you to avoid attractive men today. you failed spectacularly

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: suggest content for sure, explicit focus on hormonal arousal, sexual tension, pre-relationship pining, mild workplace inappropriateness (internal thoughts only, no action), mention of nipples, hotch being a little shit wc: 1.5k a/n: all creds to the amazing @ssamorganhotchner for the request/idea <3

It is too hot in this office, you’ve decided. The air conditioning is on, the thermostat reads a reasonable 68 degrees, but you know your body isn’t lying to you – something is wrong. 

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, adjusting the hem of your (probably too short) silk slip skirt, the material clinging to every overheated inch of you. It doesn’t help. Nothing will. Because the problem really isn’t the temperature. No, the problem is standing across from you, stirring his coffee like it’s not the most erotic thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Hotch, all razor sharp lines and rolling forearm veins, stands at the kitchenette counter, completely unaware that you are seconds away from becoming a tragic, melted puddle of lust. His sleeves are pushed up, brows furrowed in concentration as he stirs, and you watch – helpless, transfixed – as his fingers snake around the spoon, the way tendons shift beneath his skin.

It’s a teaspoon. An inanimate object. He’s stirring coffee. That’s it. And yet, your body reacts spectacularly, like he’s just backed you into the nearest sturdy surface and whispered something so depraved, so explicitly not-safe-for-work, into your ear.

You knew this was coming. It’s right there in your tracking app – day 11, peak ovulation, high fertility, maximum risk of self-sabotage, avoid contact with attractive men. Avoid Aaron Hotchner, specifically. But here you are, fully within range of the object of your affection, the exact man you should be fleeing, logic tied to the train tracks while hormones drive the speeding locomotive straight to you.

It’s not your fault, not really. Blame science. Blame nature. Blame evolution.

You feel like you’re not breathing, not functioning, gripping your pen so tightly, it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered into shrapnel. All because Hotch is walking by.

“Good morning.”

“Oh — hi! Yes! Good morning! Great morning. Beautiful morning. Gorgeous morning, actually. Just — wow. Look at us. In the morning.”

The second it leaves your mouth, you want to die.

Hotch, to his eternal credit, does not react immediately. He pauses mid-step, head tilting slightly, like he’s running a quick internal diagnostic to determine whether or not he should be concerned.

“...Right.” He finally says again, before shaking his head and walking into his office.

You cannot do this today. And according to your normal, non-biological-doomsday schedule, you’re supposed to review updated case files with Hotch today – which entails standing next to him, pointing things out, maybe even brushing hands if the universe is feeling particularly sadistic.

You hover over the keyboard, preparing to type out a very sudden, very dramatic resignation email, but before you can hit send – Reid passes your desk.

“Spencer!”

You latch onto him immediately, grabbing his wrist.

“Jesus, what?” Spencer stumbles mid-step, nearly dropping his phone.

Then, his eyes flicker over you, scanning everything — your flushed cheeks, the way you’re practically vibrating with tension, the slight glossy daze in your eyes that suggests either a medical emergency or a particularly brutal hangover.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Not in an unkind way. In a genuine, confused, and slightly alarmed way.

You shove the file at him so fast that a few loose papers nearly fall out, ignoring his question. “Can you go over this case file with Hotch for me?”

Spencer looks down at the file, flips through it once. “Why?”

“Because — uh — I have to, um… reorganize the supply closet.”

Spencer raises a brow. 

You switch strategies instantly. “Okay, okay — listen, I’ll let you pick the next five movie nights, and I won’t complain once. Even if you make me watch 2001: A Space Odyssey again.”

“Five movie nights?”

“Yes. Uninterrupted. No protests. No phone distractions.”

The second the word deal leaves Spencer’s mouth, you explode into motion, flinging yourself at him, arms around his neck.

“Have I ever told you that you are the single greatest human being to ever exist?”

Spencer makes a deep, pained noise, stumbling back, but he doesn’t fight it – merely sighs deeply, long-suffering but tolerant, before patting your back exactly once, resigned to his fate.

“You tell me weekly,” he mutters, but there’s a little laugh hidden in the words. He pries you off gently, shaking his head as he turns toward Hotch’s office. “Okay, okay. Before you suffocate me, I’m going.”

Spencer leaves, and for a second, you convince yourself you might actually make it though the day.

You are so wrong.

By lunch, you have died and resurrected at least sixteen times. Maybe more. It’s hard to say because you stopped functioning somewhere around incident three.

First the tie. One casual tug at the knot, loosening it just enough to reveal the cut of his throat. You nearly walked into a wall. Then, the glasses. The stupidest, most intellectual accessory known to man, perched low on his nose like some stern professor who graded mercilessly but might just let you stay after class for some extra credit. You had to physically sit down. And the final straw involved Hotch undoing a single button on his dress shirt. You had to assume you blacked out.

So now, here you are, in the breakroom, white-knuckling the counter, silently begging for the inferno raging in your body to calm the hell down. You’d spent your entire lunch break sprinting through department stores in search of a new blouse, because your previous one was rubbing against your already painfully sensitive nipples with every breath.

You yank at the neckline, cursing yourself six ways to Sunday for not trying the thing on before swiping your card. It doesn’t just fit snugly, it practically announces your ongoing crisis, the material stretching so perfectly over your nipples that you might as well be wearing a sign that flashes noticeably aroused.

The door opens, and you don’t even have to look. You already know who it is.

There’s a half-second delay before you risk looking up – just in time to catch the downward sweep that’s over as quickly as it came, his discipline snapping back into place like a rubber band.

Your stomach clenches, because oh, great, that is not helping. Not when you’ve been exceedingly well-behaved all morning, and definitely not when all you can think about is how you want him to rip your clothes off and put the unassuming breakroom table behind you to the kind of use that would get HR involved.

His jaw ticks, and then, in a flat, exhausted tone. “Do I even want to know what’s going on with you?”

No. No, he does not. Unless, of course, he’s invested in hearing about how you’ve had to swap out your underwear three separate times today just from existing in the same vicinity as him. In which, by all means, he should stay. But if he values his peace of mind (and you know him well enough to know he does) he should probably just walk away. Quickly. Before you start getting ideas.

“Nothing! I’m great! Never been better, actually.” You nod once, as if that seals it. “All good. Just, um, a little warm, that’s all.”

“You’re sweating,” he observes, unimpressed.

He steps closer and you’re certain the temperature in the room spikes by at least ten degrees. 

Then, as if he wasn’t already being reckless with your well-being, he lifts a hand, pressing the back of his fingers to your collarbone. His brow furrows. “You do feel warm. Are you coming down with something?”

“Yeah.” Technically, it’s not a lie. Something is happening to you, it’s just not the flu. “Aren’t you – aren’t you supposed to feel my forehead?”

“Yeah, but then I’d have to listen to you complain about how I ruined your makeup.”

Of course he would know you’d spent an ungodly amount of time on your makeup this morning.

If you had any sort of claim on this man, you would be on your knees so fast, your coworkers would hear the impact from across the office.

Hotch studies you for a second longer, then his hand moves, his fingers brushing up the column of your throat. He’s not even thinking about it. It’s gentle, like he’s feeling for something.

“You sure that’s all this is?” he murmurs, thumb sweeping into the tense muscle there. “You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Totally fine.” You can tell he doesn't believe you from the way his brows pinch, but he doesn’t press. “Would it be okay if I went home early? I mean, unless you need me for something.”

“I mean, I always need you,” he says, devastating in its casualness. You make a noise in response, but just as casually, he sobers, hand falling away as he takes a step back. “Go home. Hydrate, eat something with actual nutrients, and try to rest. If you still feel bad tomorrow, I don’t want to see you in the office.”

You nod and blurt out, “Yep. Totally. I’ll, um – drink a lot. Not – not alcohol, though. Water. Obviously.”

Hotch pauses, his mouth pressing into the kind of line that means he’s trying very hard not to laugh. He gives you a slow, knowing nod before heading for the door.

You somehow manage to pack up your things, make it to the parking lot, and drop into the driver’s seat without further public humiliation. But just as you’re fumbling for your keys, your phone buzzes.

Mr. Bossman ❤️‍🔥: If you’re still feeling warm, a cold shower might help.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[rafesbbdoll]

ticket repay ✩ rafe cameron

୨˚̣̣̣୧ where dumb!reader tries to get out of a ticket with officer!rafe.

warnings ׅ 　female!reader, cursing, cheating, drunk driving, smut, blowjob in public but hidden, reader is actually dumb as hell, mentions of law enforcement, reader is 22 & rafe is 34

word count ׅ 　1.2k

masterlist taglist

it was 1:27 AM on the streets kildare. it was quiet in some areas, some loud and booming with music. you just so happened to find yourself at a party that a few kooks had thrown in celebration of a new edition on the island, expanding figure eight. you were drinking with some other girls, giggling and dancing with a drink in your hand. your head was to floaty to comprehend that time was going by fast. before you knew it, it was 2:03 AM.

your boyfriend had texted you several times, called you, and even tried to contact your friends, but you were having too much fun to notice. it wasn't until you felt sick when you decided to head out for the night. you had grabbed your purse and made sure your phone and keys before heading out. your feet stumbled upon each other as you walked clumsily to your car.

now, you knew this wasn't safe, but how else would you get home?! you didn't want to leave your car at some random house where you wouldn't remember the address, so your best bet was to attempt to drive back home. once you got into your car, you blinked a couple of times, trying to fix up your vision. taking out with phone, you texted your boyfriend back, letting him know you're on your way back.

you knew that he would be mad at you, but at least you were coming home! clumsily, you put the keys into the ignition before starting and driving off. the roads were were mostly empty, occasional cars passing by, side eyeing you from their window. unbeknownst to you, you were swerving in your lane, as well as driving 10 miles under the posted speed limit. singing your heart out to your spotify playlist, you were unaware of the flashing police lights from behind you.

it wasnt until you heard and male voice come from a speaker when you pulled over to the side. you turned your music down, winding down your window with a confused pout on your face. "what? i didn't even do anything," you slurred to yourself. a few min later, a cop walked up to your window. you looked up at the man, noticing his uniform, making your heart drop.

"good evening ma'am. do you know why i stopped you tonight?", he asked, flashing his light into the car to get a look at you and your surroundings. you shook your head, looking up at him with your dazed eyes. "i wasn't doing anything bad. jus' on the way home," you slurred to him. he chuckled at you, noticing your eyes. "have you been drinking tonight?"

you blinked slowly before replying, "only a little bit." he could obviously tell that you were lying, your leg bouncing up and down in your seat. "what's your name again, officer?", you asked. "officer rafe cameron," he replied. "can you step out of your vehicle for me?", he requested, standing back enough for you to open the door. you frowned and sniffled before opening the door and stepping out. "am i under arrest?", you asked, stepping over to him, your blown out eyes brimming with tears.

he sighed before explaining, "not yet. just gonna run some sobriety tests to see how much you've had to drink." you nodded, wiping the falling tears off your cheeks. "what's your name, hun? gotta write it for our records," he explained while taking out a small notebook. "y/n l/n.... you said i wasn't under arrest!", you mumbled to him, crossing your arms and turning away.

"you're not. just have to write it down, okay? the first test we're gonna take is this: say your abc's backwards," he explained to you. you giggled a little bit, "that's easyyy! z... y... x... w... v... t... r... s...." he shook his head, sighing to himself. "you failed, y/n. let's try walking in a straight line, hm?" you huffed in confusion, swearing to yourself that you did it correctly. "but- its right!" officer cameron laughed in response before orchestrating the next test for you.

after you failed the other tests dramatically, officer cameron finally had enough of your antics. "alright miss. you will be receiving a ticket tonight for driving under the influence. do you have someone that can take you home tonight?", he asked, staring down at your face. your bottom lip wobbled, shaking your head. "i can't get a ticket! i didn't do anything wrong", you said to him, moving to tug at his uniform.

he looked down into your eyes, moving his hands on your shoulders to adjust you slightly, "i'm sorry sweetheart, but these are the repercussions." you tugged at his uniform again, looking up at him. he could stop the way his cock stirred in pants as he looked into your eyes, the desperate yet helpless look in your eyes. "i'll do anything, just no ticket please," you sniffled, your hands moving to his belt buckle.

"y/n. this is not appropriate behavior. you know that," he said quietly to you. you blinked up at him, moving your clumsy fingers to unbuckle his belt. "please, i-i don't want to have a ticket. i'll be good i swear," you say, reaching your hand down into his pants. rafe grunted lowly, sighing once your hand removed his cock from his pants

your eyes looked down at his dick, sucking in a breath at his size. rafe looked around, making sure that you two were in a secluded area. he then looked down, finding you on your knees in front of him. letting out a shaky breath, he spoke, "go 'head. get out of a ticket, hm?" you nodded, taking his tip in your mouth a sucking gently. your thighs squeezed together in order to stop the throbbing from your cunt.

having had enough, he took your head into his hands, pushing himself fully down your throat making you gag. he loud out a moan, head tilting back into the night sky, his hips moving back and forth into your mouth. your hands had moved onto his thighs to hold on for support as his pace quickened. he grunted as his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, "fuckfuck ㅡ you're so good, y/n. no more ticket, a'ight?", he groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair.

you moaned around him, taking him out of your mouth to jerk him off. "thank you s-so much," you replied, looking up at him with your fucked out eyes. the idea of a police officer always turned you on, but now that you finally have your hands on one, it made you so much more horny. yes, you knew it was wrong to cheat on your loving boyfriend at home, but you couldn't have this on your record!

before you know it, rafe was finishing on your face, groaning as he watched his cum mark you. he sighed, his high subsiding. you stood back up on shaky legs, watching him closely. your fingers collected his cum from your cheeks, putting them in your mouth to get a taste. you hummed to yourself at his taste; it was salty yet sweet in a weird way which made your head even more fuzzy than before.

"good?", you asked. rafe nodded, tucking himself back into his pants. he fixed up your hair and fixed your lips before speaking, "don't let me or one of my guys catch you again." he took out his notepad again, writing down something before giving it to you: his number.

and that's how your relationship began.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@13hischiers @rafestoothbrush @ohgodimgoungtodie @massivepenguinfart

[lumosflairr]

Can I request a fic where George gets knocked out in quidditch practice and reader aka his girlfriend runs to check on him he's all confused and dizzy and flirts with her? Like those memes "hey girl you got a boyfriend?" "You are my boyfriend" "hEelL yeAH"

Dazed and Devoted - George Weasley

summary: George gets knocked out during Quidditch practice. When he wakes up, confused and concussed, he flirts with his girlfriend like he’s never met her before. And honestly? It’s kind of adorable.

warnings: none!

Word Count: 1.5k

Fred and George were showing off, as usual, turning every drill into a competition. You were perched in the stands, legs swinging off the edge as you watched George zip around the pitch like he hadn’t a care in the world. You’d told him earlier to please not die today, and he had given you a wink and said, “No promises, love.”

Typical.

Oliver was barking out orders below while Katie and Alicia ran plays overhead, but your eyes stayed on George. He always looked so alive on a broom, golden in the sunlight, wind-tossed hair everywhere, laughing like there was nothing else in the world to worry about.

And then—just like that—it changed.

One moment he was banking left to avoid a Bludger, and the next—

WHAM.

Bludger to the head. Clean hit.

You heard the thud before you saw it. George spun midair like a ragdoll, his broom zigzagging before he tumbled off and hit the grass with a dull, sickening sound.

“GEORGE!” you screamed, dropping your notes and sprinting from the stands before Madam Hooch could even react.

By the time you reached him, he was flat on his back, eyes half-lidded, a crooked smile on his face like he had just had the best dream of his life. He blinked up at you slowly.

“Hi,” he said, voice drowsy and slurred. “Are you an angel?”

“George—Merlin, George, are you alright?” you asked, dropping to your knees beside him, brushing back his hair to check for blood. “Fred! Someone get Madam Pomfrey!”

He blinked again. “Whoa. You’re really pretty.”

You froze, eyes narrowing. “Okay, yeah. He’s definitely concussed.”

George propped himself up slightly on his elbows and squinted at you, like he was seeing you for the first time. “Hey… hey, uh, do you have a boyfriend?”

You stared at him. “Seriously?”

He grinned goofily. “Because if not, I’m available. Just saying.”

You bit back a laugh. “George, I am your girlfriend.”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “No way. For real?”

“For real.”

He pumped a lazy fist into the air. “Hell yeah.”

Fred, who had just run over, nearly tripped over himself laughing. “He’s either dying or just scored the best news of his life.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Both, apparently.”

George reached up and gently patted your face, missing your cheek and hitting your chin instead. “You’re so soft. Have I told you you’re soft?”

“You’ve told me lots of things, love. Most of them nonsense.”

“Bet I said them real smooth though.”

Fred muttered, “He flirts better concussed than I do fully functioning,” earning a glare from you.

Madam Pomfrey finally arrived, puffing and muttering under her breath. “Step back, step back, what did he do this time—bloody Weasley twins—”

“He caught a Bludger with his skull,” you said flatly.

“Coolest catch I’ve ever done,” George mumbled.

You brushed his hair back again gently, watching as Pomfrey waved her wand over his head and began muttering incantations. “You’re going to be okay. Just… try not to flirt with anyone else on the way to the Hospital Wing.”

George’s eyes fluttered closed briefly, then opened again, still dazed. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Got the prettiest girl right here.”

“Sweet-talker,” you said quietly, cheeks warm.

He smiled at you, soft and crooked. “Still can’t believe you’re my girlfriend. That’s like, winning the Triwizard Tournament but without the dragons.”

Fred piped up. “You do realize you’re gonna have to live this all down when you’re healed, yeah?”

George didn’t miss a beat. “Worth it.”

Pomfrey sighed. “Someone help me levitate this lovestruck idiot to the Wing before he starts serenading her.”

You stood up, still grinning as George kept his eyes locked on you, even while floating in mid-air. He reached out lazily, fingers wiggling in your direction. “I love you, random pretty girl.”

You leaned close and kissed his forehead. “Still your girlfriend, dork.”

He beamed, all bruised and dizzy and delighted. “Hell yeah.”

[buckysfaveplum]

groupie

summary: he’s your punkrocker. your star. but sometimes you wonder if you’re just a groupie, if he sees you the same

pairing: clark kent x female reader

word count: 6.5k

warnings: um an asshole on a date who kinda gets touchy pressures reader? and words like bitch, nothing else really, just fluffy two idiots pining for each other and being goofy. and yearninggg

a/n: y'all have to go to tiktok and listen to Leonie Biney's "Groupie" cause that was the inspiration for this fic. literally such a beautiful song and I pray she releases it! and pls! do not interpret this as Lois slander or hate cause no no no she is my fave and I do not want this fandom doing to her what the MCU fandom did to Sharon...okie luv ya

fic playlist

masterlist | send requests

“And I was like ‘Sarah, I’m sorry but you know I don’t wanna be tied down right now…” You tried to listen as Jimmy enthralled you with his latest dating escapades. Unfortunately, if he dared to give you a pop quiz after, you’d likely fail.

Your fingers tapped fervently against your keyboard, filling the search bar with gibberish. You slouched into your seat, pulling your feet up onto the faded leather and hugging your knees. It’s not that you were ignoring Jimmy, but it was hard to focus when the seat across from you was empty.

Clark had been gone for about an hour now, leaving the office in a rush. While everyone else figured he’d be off on an interview, looking at photos for his next article, or even taking a break, you knew better. As soon as you saw his brows furrow while gripping his phone, you knew he’d be leaving. With a tight-lipped smile and a squeeze of your hand from across the desks, he was gone.

It always scared you, watching him bolt out the door to throw himself into the closest danger he could find. You knew it was a bit ridiculous to worry, he was a 6’4” all-powerful alien being— and he wasn’t even yours, just your best friend.

He never intended to tell you about his little side job, not for a lack of trust or anything. But from a place of desire to protect you. Placing that knowledge in you would open you up to many opportunities that could put you in danger, just from knowing him. He wouldn’t risk your life like that. But shit happens.

He didn’t want to end up at your place, but he was being cornered and knew he wouldn’t get out to his fortress in time without being followed. He ducked away to an alley to shed his suit before escaping to your apartment, the only place he felt safe. When he showed up at your door black and blue, he knew he needed to come clean. You’d never tell a soul, taking the secret to the grave to keep him safe. Since then, you became the only person he had to truly confide in when it came to being Superman.

“Y/n, are you even listening?” Jimmy said, snapping you out of your daze. Your eyes shot up from your keyboard to see the young man staring at you with a confused look. “Where were you just now?”

“I don’t know, Jim,” you said, leaning back in your chair with a sigh. “But if I'm being honest, your ‘lady stories’ are getting to be a lot.” You let out a joking giggle as he spun away on his swivel chair, turning back to his work and leaving you be. As you began to return to your work, finally deciding to be responsible and finish editing images for your next article, the familiar sound of Lois’ boots echoed behind you.

“Hey there, shutterbug,” she said as she rounded the corner of your desk, pulling Clark’s empty chair up to sit. You rolled your eyes at the name, giving her a playful scoff.

“You know, if I had a ridiculous nickname that I called you all the time, you would lose it,” you said, continuing to adjust the vibrance on your shot.

“Yeah, but that’s why it’s so fun, y/n, you never get upset,” she said as she sipped her, what you’d like to call, coffee. You’d seen her pour half a sugar container into a cup of tea before and complain it was too bland. “Besides, it’s not ridiculous. It’s fitting.”

Your eyes keep glancing over to the door, wondering if Clark would zip through any moment and slip back into his hunched and sly persona. It was strange at first, adjusting to knowing both sides of Clark Kent. You thought that the awkward and introverted man you met on your first day at the Daily Planet was him, until Superman became just as much a part of your life. The real Clark was somewhere between the two, a man who was shy in large groups but lit up your face when alone. A man who pretended to be very reserved yet could be the wittiest person you’d ever met. What was the strangest to adjust to was the confidence, something that you assumed was the real him, hidden from the world of Clark Kent, but reserved for Superman and you.

“Y/n? Y/n?” Lois asked, leaning in as she tried to get your attention.

“Oh, sorry, what were you saying?” you asked, pulling your gaze from the door. She gave you a knowing smirk and rolled her eyes.

“Waiting on Wonderboy?”

“No, no, I was just…”

Lois rose from her spot, walking past you with a giggle. Before she could say something, the door opened, and in a frazzled hurry, Clark rushed through. His arms were full of papers, his bag half zipped with the latest issue hanging out, and an iced coffee crunched between his calloused hands. You swore your cloud of frantic energy and lost focus disappeared at the sight of him.

Once he reached your desk, he placed the coffee next to your mouse, followed by a quick peck to the top of your head. Blush burst across your cheeks, and you pulled your lip between your teeth. He said nothing following the act, just shuffling his paper and slipping back into his seat. You turned to Lois to see her smirk and trace a heart with her fingers before walking back to her desk.

You glanced down at the iced coffee, the condensation dripping from the plastic cup and leaving a soft ring on the wood. Every time Clark left work to handle a situation, you could expect your favorite coffee when he returned. You knew not to read into it; it was clearly a cover for why he was gone. But that didn’t stop a part of you from hoping it was more.

You leaned across the desks and tapped his arm. A flustered Clark snapped his attention to you, shocked out of his focus but still gave you a soft smile.

“Hey,” you said.

"Hey, darling," he said.

Your hand moved to the cuff of his shirt. Below, you could see a sliver of the blue suit peaking out. Without another word, you took his large hand in yours, gently sliding the fabric back up under the crisp linen of his mundane clothes.

His kind eyes relaxed as he watched your hands work. He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face as your hands brushed his. As much as he hated leaving, having every minute with you cut short, these were his favorite moments. The soft and intimate seconds where everything was calm and just the two of you.

You finished, leaning back in your chair with a wink. His lips mouthed a thank you before turning back to his computer. As you finished your work, you sipped at the watered-down coffee, occasionally glancing at your best friend and trying not to get further distracted.

What was Perry thinking when he put your desks together?

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

The sun had been down for a while now, taking away the warm light that coated Metropolis as you sat on your fire escape. The nightlife of the city began to crawl out, with the drunk laughter of college kids and the bumping music of a club on your street that always seemed to play the worst hits.

Your hand nursed a glass of cheap Moscato, poured into a regular water cup with ice cubes. While you would’ve loved a long-stemmed drink, Clark accidentally shattered the last of your collection last week.

The glass you thought would last long enough for him to finish his nightly patrol of the city turned into two. It wasn’t every night, but more often than not, you’d find yourself waiting up for your caped friend. Your apartment was always the last stop of his nightly duties before returning to his place for the night. He’d slip into the dark alley or the roof before shedding his suit and coming to yours in whatever random clothes he happened to have stashed. You noticed he’d do this, placing a change of clothes around your building for when he reached you. After a while, he started to notice whatever he stashed was folded neatly in plastic bags with a crudely drawn pink heart on the outside.

Your fingers tapped against the glass as you waited. The thoughts of your chat with Lois kept creeping back in, grabbing hold of your insecurities and refusing to let go. Was it that obvious that you were waiting for him? That the thought of him so fully consumed you?

It wasn’t your intention to develop feelings for him; you never liked to mix work or friendships with anything more. But you couldn’t help it. Not when your desk neighbor started bringing you coffees, when he was picking up your copies from the machine and delivering them to you, pre-stapled, or when he would pull his seat around to you and lean on your desk just to watch and sit near you. It wasn’t easy to avoid feelings when the kindest and most genuine man you’d met would stake out in his costume on your apartment roof on the days you were sick, to make sure you would be protected. And it certainly wasn’t easy when you noticed how much you’d long for his return when he’d leave.

You always tried to hide it, to keep things as they’d always been. But the two of you were closer, closer than any normal friends would be. It wasn’t crazy to imagine things changing one day. Yet you never saw a sign.

Somewhere between getting up for a sweater for the cold breeze and finishing your second glass, you saw a blur of red and blue zipping towards your building. With a smirk, you raised your glass to him, only to be met with a wink and a nod towards your place. You slipped back through your window and headed to the kitchen, leaving your drink in the sink and digging through the fridge for one of Clark’s favorite beers. One of the perks of your loud and young leaning neighborhood was the local grocery store that had a create your own 6-pack section in the back. You always saved that sixth spot for Clark’s favorite.

You heard the soft knock at the door as you headed over to the window, resuming your place with water and beer in hand. A moment after getting cozy, you heard the thud of Clark’s bag behind you as he settled into the spot next to you on the small iron platform.

“Busy night?” you asked, passing him the beer. He took the cold drink in his large hand, popping the sealed cap off with a flick of his finger. You did your best to choke down the fluttering feelings starting to rise.

“Not really, I just ended the night by helping a an older woman up to her apartment with some grocery bags that were too darn heavy for her,” he said, taking a swig of the drink. “Took longer than I thought. She insisted I have tea and cookies.” You couldn’t control the laughter that escaped your lips. You almost choked on your water.

“What?!” He asked, exasperated but amused. 

“What kind did she make?” You tried to reel in the laughter, but it was too cute to imagine. Big Clark hunched at a kitchen table with a little elderly woman eating cookies and tea in his Superman suit.

“Snickerdoodle,” he deadpanned.

“Aw, poor Clark,” you knew he hated snickerdoodles, but being the man he was, there was no doubt in your mind that he ate at least three to make the woman happy. “Well, I’m glad your date was nice!”

He scoffed and set his drink down before quickly grabbing you and pulling you into him. His arms held him tight to you and kept you trapped. As you jokingly cried out to be released, his hand messed with your hair. Your laughs echoed off the iron of the fire escape and down onto the streets. By the time he let you go, you were trying to catch your breath.

“Speaking of dates,” you started. “I have one this Saturday…?”

Clark’s ears perked. You were no superhuman, but you swore you saw his jaw tighten briefly.

“Y-yeah?” he asked, turning to look at you.

You debated even telling him. It wasn’t even of your own volition. Just a setup your friends stuck you with; some guy they knew through friends of friends.

“It’s nothing, just a friend set up. But…yeah,” if you were being honest, the only reason you said yes was the slightest chance they could make your feelings for Clark lessen.

He was silent for a moment, just a moment, before that smile you loved so much came back. Yet it was different. You didn’t want to read into anything. But was it possibly forced?

“That’s…that’s great, y/n,” he said.

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

Thursday came quicker than expected; it was always your favorite day of the week. Friday always felt sluggish and like anxious waiting for the clock to hit five. Wednesday reminded you that the week was only halfway done. But Thursday, Thursday was perfect. So close to the end, bringing a giddy energy and drive to finish the week strong.

You strolled into the office, a large Diet Coke and a pastry in hand. While you loved coffee, sometimes you needed a fizzy boost of energy that tasted like chemicals and caffeine. On the way in, you happened to pass the local donut shop near your neighborhood. It was nothing special to you, but it was Clark’s favorite. Did he even like donuts? No, of course not, he hated them. Yet you knew him well enough to know that he thought the best apple turnovers in the city were there. Leave it to Clark to go to a donut spot specifically for the only pastry that wasn’t a donut.

Walking past the shop, you decided to grab him one, something to make up for those snickerdoodles he suffered through a few nights ago. It wasn’t anything special, just something to make him smile. But once you reached your desk, yours began to slip.

Lois was sitting on the edge of his desk while he sat and fiddled with his pen. They were close, you couldn’t deny it. That wasn’t what got you, though — that was his laughing. Maybe it was your insecurities, maybe you were distorting it all in your head. You swore it sounded louder and more carefree than with you. You could be wrong, but…

As you approached, Clark eyed you and flashed a quick smile. You tried to pull yours back up, to show him the pastry bag, but before you could even lift your arm, he was back to his conversation. Your heart began to constrict as you tried to just shake it off.

Settling into your desk, their chat began to drift into your ears. Some quips from Lois and feigned shyness by Clark before something caught your attention. It’s a date, see you tomorrow.

You froze. So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice as Lois squeezed your shoulder and that ever-welcoming ‘hi’ she always reserved for you in the mornings.

Clark may have started talking to you, but you didn’t notice. How could you? 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning in across the desk. You snapped out of your haze long enough to catch his eyes. They were ever kind, ever dedicated to you, like always. As if the conversation you had just witnessed didn’t happen.

You said nothing, just giving him a tight-lipped smile as you slid the pastry bag over to his desk before slipping on your headphones and clocking in.

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

“I should just show up in dirty sweats!” you said, tossing another dress on your bed. 

“Come on, y/n, you look great in anything,” Clark said. You’d been on the phone with him for an hour and a half by now, pacing the mess you’d made in your apartment as you frantically tried to find an outfit for your date. 

Clark’s apartment was uncanny and tranquil for a Saturday night. Most weeks, the sounds of your combined laughter would fill the space. Playful arguments over what to order for dinner, then a bit of calm shared over what always seemed to be Chinese or pizza, before bickering over a movie. It was comfortable, it was consistent, it was you and him.

He sat on his couch, antsy as his hands wrung together in his lap, the phone on speaker as an attempt to not snap it in half. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t handle it. The thought of you spending the evening with some other guy, some man who could never treat you how he could. Who wouldn’t respect, hold, or love you the way- wait, did he say love?

“You know, there’s still time to cancel….you could come over,” you said, desperately wanting him to tell you not to go.

Of course, he didn’t want you to go. Your offer was all he wanted. The idea of you choosing him over this man was like a drug. He should’ve said something right there, should’ve told you. But would that be selfish? Surely you didn’t have feelings for him the way he did for you, how could you? This was just pre-date jitters and the want for something familiar, for your best friend. 

Nothing more. No, no, he couldn’t be selfish ...— never when it came to you.

“No… no, go, you’ll have fun,” he said, running a hand over his face.

“...I’d rather hang with you…” You were being bold, pushing, and hoping he’d get the hint. 

No, he had to take himself off the table. If he didn’t, you’d never choose yourself, always him. 

“I…I can’t, and…I don’t really want to. I need some alone time,” he said. A lie. Clark never lied, well, rarely, and certainly not with you.

The phone was silent on your end; all he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears. He regretted it immediately. So why couldn’t he take it back?

“Okay… yeah, no, you’re right,” you said. Your voice was smaller, more reserved, and tame. That wasn’t you, never with him. “Well, I’ll let you go, I don’t wanna take up more of your time.”

No no no nonononono

You never could do that. Never. His time wasn’t even his; it was all yours. Every bit he could spare was yours. He couldn’t even admit it to himself yet, but if he was torn between a city threat and saving you, he’d be terrified that the city would perish.

He bolted from the couch, tearing the phone off the table and stumbling to keep it in his grip. The sides of the sleek smartphone began to bend under his fingers. He messed up, he made a mistake. But he couldn’t speak. If he did, he would tell you everything. 

“I hope you had fun on your date with Lois yesterday,” you said.

“No, y/n, wait-” The phone went dead, the line ended, and the screen flashed back to your contact page.

Fuck

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

The date was bad, bad to say the least. You seemed to forget, having spent all your time with Clark, just how demeaning and violating men could be. Everything was going fine, a little dull, but nothing terrible. Well, maybe it was terrible. Maybe it was awful. He didn’t ask you anything about yourself. Hell, he forgot your name halfway through and had to ask again. And come to think of it, he tried to dictate your order. Said a woman should not be drinking a beer and pushed you towards a red wine or a Cosmopolitan.

By the time you finally got out of the restaurant, which you thought meant you were home free, he was all over you. A hand on the back, down your arm. Moving to your waist and trying to go lower. He took your hand and led you towards his car. You jolted away, not only uninterested in him but having no interest in spending an evening with him after having just met.

You slipped your hand from his grasp, taking a few steps back, thanking him for the evening and dinner; anything you could do to get away. That’s when the flood of names came: bitch, slut, tease. The asshole managed to slip one more comment in about how you owed him after he paid for your dinner before slamming his door in your face and leaving you on the sidewalk.

You began the walk home, your arms wrapping around yourself in an attempt at staying warm. You never should’ve gone out. You should’ve stayed in. You wanted Clark, wanted to be in his arms, to feel his thick hands pushing back your hair and the steady breaths from his chest all evening. 

With shaking hands, you pulled out your phone. You sent a few texts before caving to a call.

hey are you there?

i’m sorry i shouldn’t have snapped.

are you home? i really need to see you, please?

Your call rang through before the sound of his awkward answering machine played. Well, that could mean he missed the call. Or he was asleep. Maybe his phone was dead. If it was sent after a few rings, that would mean he chose to ignore you. There was some hope.

You didn’t want to be a burden or invade his alone time. But this was Clark. The same Clark who always said his home was yours, that the locks on his deadbolt didn’t apply to you. Clark, who would drop everything the minute he saw the very chance of a tear or frown on your face. He always said if you were lost or scared or hurt, come find him. As much as it hurt, as pathetic as it felt, you changed directions and hopped on the subway to his place.

His neighborhood was quiet and small, much less chaotic and lively than the trendy area of Metropolis, where you happened to snag a rent-controlled place. As you walked up the street to his building, the familiar diner on the corner caught your eye. The one you’d spend every Monday evening with him. A start of the week tradition where you’d squeeze into the same side of the booth and down coffees and sodas til you were falling asleep on his shoulder.

The warm orange light of the retro diner spilled out onto the street, calling you over. But by the time you reached it, the calming energy it once provided you faded into something crushing. In the front booth pressed against the glass, you saw Jimmy, Lois, and Clark at a table full of coffees and probably lukewarm fries. He said he wanted to be alone, and didn'twanna spend time with you because he wanted to spend the evening alone. Now you realize that wasn’t the truth. He just didn’t want to spend time with you.

Before you could back away and rush back to the safety of your neighborhood, Lois noticed you by the streetlight. She reached over the booth, waving at you through the window and motioning for you to come join them. The action caused Clark to turn, catching your eyes full of hurt and embarrassment. The two of you were in sync, as soon as he rose from the booth and raced out the door, you had bolted for the subway. 

He missed you, reaching the steps just after you had disappeared into the evening. He stood there alone, a deep sting in his chest and a fullness in his lungs that stopped his breathing. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad.

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

The last few days were slow, agonizing. The Daily Planet had become the location of your hide-and-seek game with Clark. One that only you seemed to be playing. You withdrew, spending far more time in the dark room and more time out on site catching shots; anything that would help you avoid the metahuman you had become far too attached to.

It all hit you at once, just how embarrassingly, head-over-heels, and completely in love you had fallen. How much you had allowed him to consume you, how totally devoted you became to him. It was pathetic, of course, he didn’t feel the same. 

Things became painfully awkward fast. Each time your eyes met, each time he crossed your purposefully Clark exclusive path, it was like time stopped. It was a game of chicken, who would cave first, usually you. He’d freeze and give you those kind eyes, laced with a sadness you rarely saw, before taking a cautious step in your direction. He only ever got one in before you dashed like a baby deer. He never took a second step.

Today was a day you didn’t need to pack running shoes. Clark’s desk sat empty from morning to evening. You knew nothing was happening in the city, and the streets seemed to be remarkably serene. He must’ve had enough of your antics, needed to get away from the anxiety you brought, that clouded your desk. That had to be it.

What confused you, though, was the note. Coming back from your lunch, you saw it tucked by your computer with your coffee order and your favorite, a Boston creme donut, wrapped in the bag of Clark’s favorite donut shop. Looking around, he wasn’t in the building. Jimmy or Lois hadn’t seen him all day. The note was messy, the kind of handwriting you assumed was scratched out mid-flight in a blue and red suit.

Can we talk, please? Are we okay?

Were you okay? It had never been like this. Never could you have imagined how bad things would get. You always assumed that if your friendship with Clark crumbled, it would be from revealing your harboured feelings. Turns out that wasn’t even necessary.

“You look cute today,” Lois’s voice caught your attention. She came up behind you, leaning a hand on your desk and peeking at the note. “Is that from Boy Genius?”

“Yeah, um… I don't know what’s going on with us,” you said.

“Is that why you didn’t come join us Saturday?” she asked as she sat on the corner of your desk.

“No, we… we were fine before that, I think, but,” you sighed. If things were shit with Clark, maybe you could be honest with someone. “I think my feelings messed everything up. I think he meant more to me than I did to him.”

“You’re joking, right?” Lois’ tone wasn’t meant to be harsh, but maybe it was what you needed. Her face didn’t exactly hide her exasperation. “Y/n, I always thought you two were idiots with how obnoxious you were with refusing to get together. But if you can’t see how painfully devoted that man is to you, then I can’t help you.”

You didn’t know what to say, your fingers just stayed brushing against the rough pulp of his note, bumping over the indents from his pen.

Lois was honest to a fault and blunt. Surely she took no pleasure in playing you for a fool. But what about her date with him?

“Y/n, that man spent all of Friday evening gushing about you to me. ‘Oh, that reminds me of y/n’, ‘did you know y/n puts this in her coffee?’, ‘well that’s not how y/n sets her margins’, blah blah blah!” she said, rolling her eyes. “I had to actually ban your name from our conversation to get any work done.”

That confused you. Work?

“Work? I thought, I thought it was a date,” you said. Lois’ eyes went wide, and her mouth released an amused and somewhat shocked oh. Her face showed just how oblivious she thought you were.

“Really, you actually thought he’d entertain anything with me when you live and breathe on this planet?” she said with a sigh. “Clark is so not my type. No, we needed to meet up to go over a Superman interview he promised he’d get for me.”

She continued to mutter under her breath about how ‘he always hogged the hero’s media statements,’ but you began to tune out. Was she telling the truth? Did Clark really feel that way?

ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

Your walk home was shrouded in panicked thoughts. Of your relationship and how royally you had burned it to ash. All because you were too stupid to just say something. 

The lights of the city glowed as the sun had long disappeared. Your habit of staying late in the dark room came with downsides, like the walk home alone. Whenever this would happen, Clark would insist on staying, or at the very least, he’d wait for a text from you when you were ready, upon which he’d rush back to walk to your place. That hadn’t been the case the last week. He was nowhere to be seen.

Another part of your poor planning was the rain. You left your umbrella at home. Your jacket was pulled tight over your head, trying to no avail to salvage any of your dignity as the rain covered you. Your dress and shoes were drenched as a hot summer rain flooded the streets and soaked your hair. Any work that was done that day must’ve been ruined as your bag became three pounds heavier with rain.

The leather of your loafers squeaked as rain puddled against your socks. It seemed like everything could only get worse. And of course it did.

You couldn’t escape the feeling of being followed, that someone was lurking behind, always watching your next move. Finally mustering up enough courage, you peeked your head around. No one, the street was solely yours. 

You stopped, turning and checking around, but kept being met with the empty lights of Metropolis. That was until you looked up.

Clark hovered just out of sight, staying tucked near the tops of the short buildings of your neighborhood. Clad in his suit, you had nothing to say. You sighed, giving him a resigned and tight-lipped smirk.

“You’re following me?” You asked.

“I know you don’t want me around, I just needed to know you’d get home safe this week,” he said.

He lowered himself to you, landing next to you with an ease you always admired. It had been a while since he was so close to you; it was like seeing him again for the first time. It always left you stunned by how massive his height was.

Without a word, he lifted his cape, pulling it tight and creating a tent over your head. You never broke eye contact, but he was cautious, as if giving you a chance to leave. You don’t.

The walk to your apartment is silent. Except for the sounds of the city that never dulled and the pattering of the rain. Once you reached your place, he stopped. Without a word, you turned and nodded to the alley that led to the back door of your building. He watched you slip through the door and latch it behind you before he rushed through the back.

You barely reached your door before he was coming up behind you from the escape stairwell. You fumbled with your keys before letting the two of you into your place. He walked in, heading into your living room, but you stalled at the door, leaning back and leaving the keys in the lock.

“Clark,” you said.

“What’s going on with us?” he asked, coming closer. He refused to look away, leaving you to duck your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you said.

That wasn’t totally true. You knew what was wrong, you loved him — he didn’t feel the same.

“About Saturday,” he started. You pushed yourself away from the door and set your bag down on your table.

“We don’t have to-” You tried to stop him, but he refused to let miscommunication make this worse.

“No, no. I need to explain,” he said. “Y/n, Jimmy and Lois were in the neighborhood and asked me to come. Well, more like dragged me. They knew I was having a rough night.”

You furrowed your brows.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you say you needed to be alone? You always come to me when something’s wrong,” you began to strip your soaked shoes and shook some rain from your hair. 

It didn’t matter how tense the room was, he refused to let you be uncomfortable. Clark rushed to the bathroom, leaving you confused. Only to return with a towel and come close, wrapping you tight. Once you took the terry cloth and held it in place, you expected him to back up. He didn’t.

“Y/n, I couldn’t, that’s the problem. You were the problem,” he said. You tried not to show your hurt, but failed. He shook his head, taking your shoulders and keeping your attention. “You didn’t do anything…I just. Your date. I couldn’t handle it.”

“You never said…” You looked down. “I didn’t even want to go, I told you I wanted to see you.”

“I know, I know, darling, I-” his hands moved to hold your face, and he stepped closer. “I just thought, I thought you wouldn’t ever find someone with me around. I thought my feelings would be holding you back… That’s why I said what I said, why I lied.”

You were quiet as he spoke. No matter how the butterflies in your stomach rampaged, you couldn’t deny the euphoria of his large hands on you.

“I always want you around, y/n,” he started. “You have no idea how badly I wanted you at mine.”

It was silent for just a moment. Without his ramblings, you could see how close he really was. With a shaky breath, you spoke.

“I only went on the date to try to get over you,” you said. That got his attention. You swore you could feel the slightest tightening of his grip on you. You tried to finish, but nothing came up. 

All you could think about was what Lois said. Was she right? Were you really just reading everything wrong? Was this metahuman who stood before you, a man pleading and desperate, really in love with you?

You met his eyes again.

“I was scared I was ruining everything, that I was clingy and suffocating, and that you were tired of me so-”

“No, no no, hey,” his hands moved to slip through your hair, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. He ducked his head to get closer. Even so, he still towered over you. Engulfing you in nothing but him. “Please, please don’t say that.”

“I let my feelings get to be too much, and I knew you didn’t feel the same,” you said. “When my friends set up the date, I figured it was time to back off of you and try something else. That went to shit, cause no one is you.”

You could see the tension in his neck release at your words. His jaw twitched, and you watched the muscles flinch. One of his hands moved to cup your face and tilt your head back to reach him where he bent to you. He leaned in, hovering just above your lips and stopping. His eyes met yours, and he waited.

You nodded, giving him everything he sought, “Please.”

That was all he needed. He kissed you like a man starved, like he was terrified that the moment he pulled away, he’d wake up and this would all be over. His calloused hands held you in place as his lips met yours, slipping his tongue gently between your lips. 

It was intoxicating, addictive, and nothing like you could have imagined it to be. Nothing in your head ever would have met the moment of having Clark.

He pulled back entirely too soon, resting his forehead to yours as he caught his breath. Words began to tumble out as if he only had one chance to tell you everything.

“I never wanted to ruin this, to lose you. I’ve loved you for so, so long,” his thumbs stroked your cheeks as he spoke. “It’s only ever been you, I’ve always been yours.”

“Why…why didn’t you say anything?” you asked. He cocked his head, and there it was, that smile that turned your world technicolor.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said with the playful tone you missed so much. You tried to hide your blush and duck your head; he didn’t let you, taking your chin and lifting your gaze back to his. He shook his head at your shyness and bit his lip. “I thought it would be selfish. You deserve a man who can give you everything, one you don’t have to share with the world.”

Your hands moved, letting the towel slip to the ground, to cup his face. 

“I just want you,” you said. 

He paused, as if convincing himself of his next move, “If you’ll have me, I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, darling. I always will be.”

You moved your hand to card through the thick curls at his neck. You leaned in, taking a moment to memorize each line and curve of his face. After only a week without him, you never wanted to forget his face for even a second. You pulled his head down and placed a kiss on his forehead. His shaky breaths at the feeling of your lips on him didn’t escape you.

“Lois is right, we’re fucking idiots,” you said as you pulled back. He let out a soft laugh as his smile brightened. His hand at your neck pulled you closer, bringing you back into another kiss.

This one was slower, more intimate. As if to make up for all the mixed signals, missed opportunities, and miscommunications. When you pulled back, his lips were red and raw.

“I love you, Clark,” you said. His smile beamed as his arms pulled you flush to his chest, wrapping you in him. 

His shaking breaths calmed, releasing in a soft sigh that ruffled the hair at the top of your head, “Thank god.”

---

she's long but I hope you enjoyyyyed

[cuzxai]

I’m obsessed with your work 😩

Is it possible for me to request the filthiest sluttiest smut with Spencer talking you through it? Maybe you’re shy about asking him to try new things in bed?

It can be any scenario, just a lot of dirty talk, you know Spencer is a yapper anyway ❤️‍🔥

Thank youuuuu!

full of you - nsfw

spencer reid x afab!reader

a/n: lately i havent been good with the filthy stuff, please i tried— i really tried. soft girl at heart. small warning but if anyone has an issue with sleep sex, just scroll💔

Spencer doesn’t really sleep after cases, you’ve learned that by now.

Even when he’s stretched out beside you. He’s quiet and still, you can tell he’s not truly gone. His breath doesn’t settle the same way, his fingers twitch every so often— reaching for something that isn’t there. Tonight’s no different. You’re curled against him in his bed, the blankets tangled from the way you pulled at them earlier. Sex-dazed and too warm from his hands on your skin. And even now, way later— you feel the heat of it clinging to you. His hand rests on the back of your thigh. Not moving but there in its comfortable presence. The case ended earlier that afternoon. It hadn’t been the worst kind but there was a kid involved. That always gets him in a specific way. He hadn’t said much at dinner nor did he needed to. You’d just slipped your fingers between his under the table and let your knee press into his, steady as you could.

You reach down now and brush your fingertips across his wrist. His pulse is steady, Soothing. “You’re still awake,” you murmur.

He hums, just a soft sound against your shoulder. “So are you.”

“Barely,” you admit. “I think your mattress is trying to swallow me.”

He shifts a little to face you, voice quieter. “I can stop buying books and start saving for a new one.”

You laugh into the crook of your arm. “You won’t.”

“No,” he agrees. “I won’t.”

You smile in the dark, letting the quiet settle again. There’s something special about this part of the night. After everything’s been said. After all the armor has dropped. You’re bare in more than the physical sense— no barriers, no pretending. Just the two of you in the hush of late hours, breath mingling, limbs twined. And despite everything, there’s something sitting on your tongue. You’ve been thinking about it for days now. Maybe longer. It started with a dream— hot, desperate, confusing and it lodged itself in your mind like a splinter. You haven’t been able to shake it. You’ve imagined saying it to him. A dozen different ways. A dozen different times. But with your skin still tingling faintly from the way he touched you earlier, you feel bolder. The words hover on the edge of your lips like they might slip out without you meaning to.

Spencer’s fingers trace soft circles against your thigh. “You’re thinking hard.”

You let out a low breath. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me.” He pauses. “You don’t have to say anything but I’m listening if you want to.”

You swallow. It’s not a matter of wanting to. It’s the fear of what he’ll think once he hears it. Still you press your cheek to his chest and whisper, “I’ve been thinking about something.”

His hand stills, giving you his full attention. “Okay.”

“It’s a little…” You groan, half-laughing into his skin. “I don’t even know how to say it.” Spencer doesn’t push. Just waits all patient and steady. He always gives you space to get there on your own. “It’s not bad,” you say quickly. “It’s not— I mean, it’s not something I’d need or expect or anything and you can say no.”

His fingers start moving again—reassuring, not prodding. “You’re safe. I’d never judge you.”

You nod against him. “Okay. Just… okay.” Another breath. Then so soft you’re not sure you mean to say it, “I had this dream. About you— us.”

You feel his smile against your hair. “Was I wearing the scarf again?”

You snort. “No, not that one.” You take a breath. “You were inside me. I was asleep at first but you were there. Like—I guess the idea is… you woke me up by being in me.”

There’s a pause. A soft silence, not an awkward one. “And you liked it?” he asks gently.

You nod. “I think so. I keep thinking about it but I wasn’t sure if I should even tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because… I don’t know. It feels like the kind of thing I’m supposed to be embarrassed about.” You hesitate. “Isn’t that kind of weird?”

Spencer lifts his head enough to kiss your forehead, then rests his chin against your temple. “No,” he says firmly. “Not weird. Intimate, maybe but not weird.”

“You really don’t think so?”

“I think you’re the person I love most in the world,” he says, voice warm. “And if you trust me enough to say that out loud, the least I can do is treat it with the respect it deserves.” Your throat tightens at his words. “Besides,” he adds, a little quieter, “you might be surprised how much I like the idea.”

You blink. “Wait. Really?”

He laughs softly. “I mean… yeah. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before but waking up with you like that? Being that close? That connected? That sounds… kind of incredible.”

You shift to look at him, uncertain but hopeful. “You don’t think it’d be too much?”

Spencer brushes his fingers along your cheekbone. “You’d still be able to say no. You’d still be you. I wouldn’t do anything unless you were okay with it. I promise.”

“I know.” You take his hand and press it to your chest. “That’s why I thought maybe I could tell you.”

His eyes soften. “What made you think of it?”

“I think I just wanted to feel like you wanted me that much. Even when I wasn’t all done up or trying or… anything. Just… me. Sleepy. Barely awake. And you’d still want me.”

Spencer kisses you— slow, grounding. “I always want you.”

You yawn then smile, curling against him again. “I don’t expect it,” you say, half-asleep. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I’m glad you told me,” he whispers. “We don’t have to do anything. Not unless you’re sure.”

You nod against his chest. “I know. But… maybe one day.”

He kisses your hair again, one hand cradling your hip. His voice is quiet, almost like a secret. “One day,” he says. “Only if you want to.”

He doesn’t rush. He could’ve. There were moments he almost did. Moments in the quiet of the past week where you’d fallen asleep with your leg tangled over his or stepped out of the shower with your skin still damp and sweet, wrapped in one of his towels, looking up at him like you forgot what you’d said. He remembered every word. Every breath. The way your voice went quiet when you told him you might like waking up to him already inside you. Like it was a fantasy you weren’t sure you were allowed to say out loud.

He hasn’t touched himself in days. He wanted this to be more than a reaction. Not a hungry impulse. Not something quick and shameful. He wanted it to be real. So when you fall asleep early on Friday night, curled under his sheets in one of his soft old shirts, he doesn’t act on it right away. You’re worn out. That much is obvious. You didn’t even finish your dinner, just sighed and curled into his chest, mumbling something about being overstimulated by the week. You barely kissed him goodnight. No performance. No prelude. You’re just tired. Spencer brushes your damp hair back from your forehead. Kisses the space between your brows. Watches your eyes flutter beneath closed lids. He doesn’t move for a long time. He lays there beside you, motionless, listening to the rhythm of your breath. The silence between each inhale. The way your body curls into his without prompting. You smell like citrus and honey and something raw, something soft. Like skin after sleep. He’s hard. He has been since the moment you sighed his name and tucked yourself under his chin. But that’s not the point. Not tonight. He waits.

And when the city outside your window is finally quiet, when your breathing deepens and your body shifts even closer in sleep, that’s when he moves. Slowly. Gently. His palm coasts over your side, down the line of your hip, thumb brushing against your bare thigh. The shirt has ridden up around your waist. There’s nothing underneath. He exhales. His whole body trembles with it. Spencer shifts behind you—carefully, reverently— and pushes the covers down to his waist. He presses one hand flat to the mattress, steadying himself, the other resting lightly on your hip. Just to hold. He grinds against the curve of your ass once— slow, cautious. Testing. Your breath stutters. But you don’t wake. So he lines himself up. He doesn’t use his hand to guide. Doesn’t need to. You’re already soft, already open. He pushes forward with the gentlest roll of his hips and you give under him like you were made for this— like your body never forgot what it said yes to. The stretch is slow, careful. So damn slow it feels like prayer. Spencer’s mouth falls open. His forehead presses into the back of your shoulder, and he almost gasps out loud. He’s inside you fully.

You don’t stir, not all the way. Just a twitch in your fingers, a faint shift of your spine as he bottoms out and stills. He bites back a groan. This is what you asked for. He doesn’t move or— he can’t. You’re so warm around him, so wet, so snug it borders on unbearable. He feels like if he even breathes wrong, it’ll be over too soon. He’s waited a week. He can wait a little longer. So he just stays. Buried inside you. Letting the warmth of your body surround him. He kisses the back of your neck, then your shoulder. One arm wraps around your middle. The other presses beneath the pillow where your hand is curled. Spencer closes his eyes and waits.

You don’t dream but you know you’re not fully asleep anymore. Something is different. Your breath catches in your chest before your mind can form the why of it. Your thighs are already warm, your skin flushed. You feel held and heavy and anchored. You twitch in your sleep and a wave of sensation floods you. Too deep. Too much. You freeze. And then you feel it—him—pressing inside you, slow and solid and real. Your eyes blink open, dazed. But it’s not a bad feeling. It’s thick and full. Like you’re already mid-dream, like your body got there before your brain. You shift slightly and he groans.

“You’re awake,” he whispers. His voice is rough and frayed. So unlike how he normally sounds that it sends a flush down your neck. You don’t speak yet. You’re trying to process what’s real. His breath fans against your skin. You can feel his chest shaking where it’s pressed to your back. “I couldn’t wait anymore,” he says, like an apology. “You looked so perfect.” You close your eyes again, moaning low. The sound of your own voice makes your chest ache. He hasn’t moved. He’s just inside you, so deep you feel dizzy.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod before you can speak. Then you whisper, “Don’t stop.”

His breath shudders. “I’m not moving,” he says, “not yet. You were so asleep. I wanted to feel you before you even knew it was happening.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I needed to know what it felt like to be part of your first breath.”

You whimper. He’s still trembling behind you, one hand firm around your waist, the other reaching up to brush your hair off your neck. You reach back for him—grab at his thigh, his hip, anything. But when you can’t find purchase, you just arch your hips back while whimpering, “Spencer—move, please—” He stills. Then groans deep in his throat, barely holding it in. Your voice is raw. Wrecked. Like you’ve been wanting this longer than you even knew. “Please,” you whisper again, helpless. “Want you to move.”

You don’t need to say it twice. Your hips jerk up into him the moment he moves. Just a little. Not fast. Not harsh. Slow, steady. His body tenses with the shift, a rough groan caught deep in his throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice thick and ragged, “You feel so good like this. So full…”

You shiver, curling your fingers into the sheets, nails digging in as he starts to rock forward inch by inch bottoming out with each roll of his hips. His hand slides down to cup your cheek, thumb tracing lazy, trembling circles over your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers. “So warm… so soft…”

Your chest tightens, your breath catching in a sudden hiccup as he pulls out just a fraction then pushes all the way back in again, slow and deliberate, making your body sing in response.“Spencer,” you whimper, voice barely more than a broken sigh, “Please… don’t stop.”

His breath hitches. You feel him press a little harder, tilt his hips and you know he’s chasing that feeling. The one that curls like fire in your belly and spreads out into your thighs, making everything go soft and wild. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he groans. “I can’t get enough of you.” You arch into him, desperate for more, needing to feel him deeper, to never lose this closeness. “Tell me what you want,” he breathes, lips brushing your ear, voice low and rough like gravel.

You try but it catches in your throat. Instead, your fingers wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him flush against you. “Spencer,” you gasp, “Please…” The sound is barely a whisper but it’s enough.

He groans and starts moving with more urgency. He’s not rough but not gentle either — like he’s trying to hold himself back from breaking. His hips roll into yours, slow but steady, a rhythm that sends heat flooding through your veins. You moan, the sound raw and needy.“God, you sound so good,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “So fucking beautiful.”

You can’t stop yourself — your hands run down his back, over his waist, desperate to hold on as his movements deepen. “Spencer, please,” you whimper, “I need you…”

He grunts, letting go of the last scraps of control. “You have me,” he pants, voice thick, “I want to hear you, baby.”

Your nails dig into his skin, your hips rising up to meet his every movement as your breath hitches in short, ragged bursts. The bed creaks beneath you both, your bodies slick with sweat and desire. He leans in, kissing the side of your neck, sucking a dark mark there and you cry out a needy, desperate sound that fills the quiet morning air.

“Fuck,” he moans, “So beautiful. So fucking perfect.” You’re trembling, caught between the ache in your hips and the fire burning low in your belly. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and circling it with slow, relentless pressure. “Can you tell me what you want?” he whispers, voice shaking.

You can’t form words—just moans, whimpers, gasps—but he understands. He presses closer, hips snapping forward in a pace that’s still patient but building, a promise that he’s not letting go. “C’mon, you can tell me,” he breathes, fingers moving faster now, “Tell me— fuck— you feel so good.”

Your hands find his face, pulling him down for a kiss that’s messy and desperate, tongues tangling, breaths colliding. You taste yourself on him and it makes you shiver. “Spencer…” you gasp, voice breaking, “Please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

He’s groaning now, every inch of his body straining toward you, a desperate hunger that matches your own. His hips roll faster, fingers circling your clit, and you feel the coil in your stomach tightening, winding closer to the edge.

“Moan for me,” he pants, voice raw. “I want to hear you.”

“Spencer…” you cry out, voice trembling, “I love you.”

He catches your gaze, eyes dark and wild, and whispers back, “I love you. So much.”

Your walls clench around him suddenly, a shockwave ripping through your body, and he groans deep in his chest. You tremble all breathless as he holds you tight, thrusting slow and deep, grounding you in every moment. His hand leaves your face to grip your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as your moans turn to gasps.

“Look at me,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “You’re mine.”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks, overwhelmed by the heat and the feeling of being seen, held, loved. “Yours,” you repeat, desperate.

He kisses you one last time before burying his face in your neck, thrusting deeper and harder, pushing you over the edge together. You cry out, fingers tangling in his hair as your bodies move as one, lost in the messy, beautiful chaos of it all. The moment lingers like a slow-burning flame, both of you gasping and shuddering, clinging to each other.