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seospicybin · 3 months ago

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COCKY.

FINAL CHAPTER

Bangchan x reader. (s,f)

Chapters: Chapter I / Chapter II / Chapter III

Synopsis: As a researcher developing a specialized condom in extra large sizes, you never expected the company’s product manager, Chris, to volunteer as a test subject—let alone for things to get this complicated. Balancing professionalism with undeniable chemistry, you must navigate a partnership that’s strictly business… or so you keep telling yourself. (16,4k words)

Author's note: Thank you for patiently waiting and for following Cocky series. Hope you enjoy this one too and don't forget to share your thoughts on it ♡

As the morning sun kisses your bare skin, you slowly stir awake, feeling oddly disoriented. Your body feels heavy, sore in places that make last night come rushing back in vivid detail.

Blinking, you turn your head to the side—and there he is. Chris, lying beside you, his bare chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. His face is relaxed in sleep, hair slightly tousled, lips parted just slightly.

Your eyes drift to the bedside table, where the evidence of the night lingers—torn condom wrappers scattered messily across the surface. Heat creeps up your neck as memories flood in. How Jane had slipped Chris that damn pill. How you got him home. And how you… passed out. During sex.

You groan internally, mortified. Of all the things that could’ve happened, that had to be the way the night ended? You can’t even begin to imagine what Chris must have thought.

Heart hammering, you slowly shift in bed, careful not to disturb him. The last thing you want is to wake up to his teasing or—worse—his concern. You can’t face that right now.

Holding your breath, you slip the covers off and carefully climb out of bed, moving as silently as possible. Your clothes are scattered around the room, but you grab the nearest things, pulling them on hastily. You just need to get out before he wakes up. You take one last glance at him—still fast asleep—and then, as quietly as possible, you head for the door.

Despite the late start to your morning, you make it to the office just in time. Your heart is pounding, anxiety creeping up your spine. After sneaking out of Chris’s apartment that morning, all you could think about was avoiding Jane. There’s no way she wouldn’t interrogate you about last night, and you are not ready for that conversation.

However, the moment you step into the lab, Jane comes rushing toward you. You brace yourself, expecting the worst.

“You’re finally here!” she exclaims, gripping your arm.

“I—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Check your email. Now.”

She’s not asking about last night? You blink at her, confused. “Wait, what?”

Jane huffs impatiently and practically drags you to your desk. “The company sent out an announcement this morning. Your product? It’s officially launching.”

Your breath catches. Already?

“Go on,” she urges, gesturing at your laptop.

Hands slightly trembling, you open your inbox. Sure enough, the company-wide email is sitting at the top, bold and unread. When you click on it, the subject line says it all:

Official Product Launch Announcement – New Innovations in Health & Wellness

And there, among the listed products, is yours.

Jane claps her hands together, grinning. “This is huge! Congratulations, genius!” She doesn't shy away from placing a kiss on your cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark on it.

You force a smile, but your stomach churns. The launch means more than just success—it means presenting your product to a lot of people at the expo. Investors, media, potential buyers… all eyes on you.

Jane notices your expression and narrows her eyes. “Wait. Why do you look like someone just told you your dog ran away?”

You sigh, slumping in your chair. “Because this means I have to present at the expo.”

“So?” Jane tilts her head. “You’re brilliant. You worked so hard on this. You’re the best person to introduce it.”

You groan. “But I hate public speaking.”

Jane scoffs. “Oh, please. You literally had to interview men about their dick sizes for this research. If you survived that, you can survive anything.”

You open your mouth to argue but—okay, fair point.

Jane smirks in triumph and pats your shoulder. “You got this. Just picture everyone in their underwear or something.” Then, she glances at her watch. “Alright, gotta go back to my lab before someone notices I ditched work.”

She turns to leave but pauses. Her eyes zero in on your neck, and her smirk deepens. “By the way,” she says sweetly, “nice hickey.”

Your blood runs cold. “What?”

Jane bursts out laughing when she sees how horrified you look. “Oh my god! You didn’t even notice?!”

You slap a hand over your neck, face burning. “JANE!”

She cackles as she heads for the door. “Good luck explaining that on your presentation.” Then, with one last wicked grin, she disappears, leaving you in utter mortification.

You gather in the meeting room with your team, everyone chatting excitedly about the upcoming expo. The atmosphere is buzzing with energy, but you sit stiffly in your chair, gripping your pen like it’s a lifeline.

“Alright,” you start, clearing your throat. “Let’s go over our presentation plan for the expo.”

Your lead assistant, Mark, grins. “We’re finally getting the recognition we deserve. This is huge.”

“It is,” you agree, forcing a smile. “Which is why we need to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

You run through the details—booth setup, product demonstrations, key talking points—but the whole time, one thought lingers in the back of your mind: Chris will be there. He has to be. As the product manager, he’ll be involved in the official launch. And after what happened last night… well, you’re not sure how to face him yet.

“Will you be handling the main presentation yourself?” another team member asks.

You hesitate. “I’ll be leading it, yes. But I’ll need all of you to help with different parts of the demonstration.”

Mark nods and gives you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do fine. Just be confident.”

“Right,” you mutter. Easier said than done.

The meeting continues, and you do your best to focus. But no matter how much you plan, one thing is clear—there’s no avoiding Chris at the expo.

And there's no way of avoiding him in the office no matter how big this building is. As you head back to your lab, still lost in thought from the meeting, you turn a corner and collide with someone. Strong hands catch your arms before you can stumble, and when you look up, air caught in your throat.

Chris. He smiles down at you, his expression easy, like nothing is out of the ordinary. “Hey.”

You force an awkward smile back, hyper-aware of the people moving past you in the hallway. Good. An open space. He can’t bring it up here.

“Congrats on the launch,” he says, his voice warm. “You really did it.”

“Thank you,” you reply, gripping the tablet in your hands a little tighter.

Chris nods, but then, to your surprise, he takes a step closer. The shift is subtle, but the space between you suddenly feels smaller. Your breath catches, nerves prickling as you stare up at him.

He opens his mouth, and for a second, you’re sure he’s about to mention last night. But instead, he says, “Good luck with everything.”

You get taken aback. But the way he looks at you—like he wants to say something else entirely—keeps you frozen in place. Your heart pounds. You don’t trust yourself to respond properly, so you quickly mumble, “Thanks,” before stepping back. “I should, um—get back to work.”

Chris watches you for a beat, unreadable, but he doesn’t stop you. As you walk away, you exhale slowly, feeling like you just dodged a bullet. For now.

The expo is in full swing, the grand hall filled with a hum of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, and the constant shuffle of people moving between booths. Bright banners and LED screens flash promotional videos, showcasing the latest products and innovations. The air carries a mix of fresh coffee from a nearby vendor and the faint scent of brand-new packaging materials.

Despite the excitement buzzing around you, a tight knot of nerves sits heavy in your stomach. Today is a big day—your product is being introduced to the public, and soon, you’ll have to engage with potential clients, answer questions, and confidently present everything you’ve worked so hard for. You exhale, trying to push aside the anxiety.

Jane, walking beside you, nudges your arm playfully. “Relax, you’re going to do great.”

You give her a small, unsure smile, but before you can say anything, she suddenly stops in her tracks and tugs at your sleeve. “Oh, look who’s here,” she sing-songs, pointing toward a booth a few meters away.

Your eyes follow her gesture, and sure enough, there’s Chris. He’s casually checking out a product display, dressed sharp as ever, dark navy with suit with silk tie, exuding that effortless confidence that always makes him stand out.

Jane smirks. “So... about that night. You took him home, right?” She gives you a knowing look. “Did anything happen?”

You quickly shake your head, keeping your tone light. “Nothing happened.”

Jane raises a brow. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” you insist, glancing away.

You sigh, but before you can say anything else, Jane shifts gears. “Well, whatever. I just hope you’re not looking for a thing with him.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, hands in her pockets. “I mean, Chris would be a lot to handle. He’s not just—” she gestures vaguely, “—big in that way, but he’s also charming, super friendly, and he just knows his way around girls.” She gives you a look. “And you know what they say with guys with big dicks, they're fucking insatiable and I'm talking about him not getting it enough with just one girl.”

You don’t respond right away, but your gaze flickers toward Chris again. There are a few girls gathered around him, clearly drawn in by whatever he’s saying. He’s smiling, laughing at something, effortlessly charismatic. You watch as one of them leans in a little closer, her eyes bright with interest.

Jane turns back to you, tilting her head with a knowing smile. “Do you like him?”

You immediately shake your head. “No.”

Her smirk deepens. “You sure?”

You exhale, rolling your shoulders back. “Chris is just the product manager. That’s all he is to me.”

Jane gives you a long, doubtful look, as if waiting for you to crack under pressure. But you meet her gaze with firm resolve. “What happened between us was strictly professional,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “And even that has ended.”

For a moment, she studies you, as if weighing your words. Then, to your relief, she shrugs. “If you say so.”

Before she can push the conversation any further, her eyes catch on something across the expo hall. “Oh! That looks interesting—come on.” She grabs your wrist, tugging you toward a display booth showcasing the latest advancements in health supplements.

You let her pull you along, glad for the distraction. But even as Jane chatters away about the product, your mind drifts back to Chris. The way he smiled at those girls. The way Jane’s words linger in your head.

He would be a lot to handle. You shake the thought away, forcing yourself to focus. This expo is about your work, not him.

You step off the stage, your heart still pounding from the adrenaline rush of your presentation. The applause is still ringing in your ears, and you let out a breath, feeling a mix of excitement and relief. Months of work, endless testing, late nights—it all led to this moment, and seeing the positive reception fills you with a deep sense of accomplishment.

As you make your way backstage, a familiar voice calls out, “Hey, great job up there.”

You turn to see Chris walking toward you, his expression warm with approval.

“You really killed it,” he praises, his eyes shining with genuine admiration. “I knew you’d do great, but you exceeded expectations.”

You offer him a small smile, still catching your breath. “Thanks… I appreciate that. And, well, thanks for everything. I wouldn’t have gotten here without your help.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t sell yourself short. This was all you.”

Before you can respond, a voice calls out from behind him. “Chris!”

You glance past him to see a woman waving him over, her expression expectant. Chris turns his head, then looks back at you with an apologetic smile. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later at the party, yeah?”

You nod, keeping your expression neutral. “Yeah. See you.”

He gives you one last smile before heading off, leaving you standing there, still buzzing with adrenaline—but now with something else stirring inside you.

Just as you’re collecting yourself, Jane comes barging in, her energy overwhelming as she practically throws herself at you in a hug. “You did it!” she exclaims, squeezing you tight. “That was amazing! You looked so confident up there, and the way you handled the Q&A—ugh, I’m so proud of you!”

You laugh, hugging her back. “Thanks, Jane. Seriously.”

She pulls away, grinning. “So, are you ready for the party?”

You hesitate, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know… I’m exhausted. I kinda just want to go home and sleep.”

Jane gasps dramatically, grabbing your shoulders. “Absolutely not. You worked your ass off for this, and now it’s time to celebrate!”

You sigh, knowing there’s no way she’s letting you out of this. “You’re really not giving me a choice, are you?”

“Not at all,” she says smugly. “Now, come on! We’re getting you a drink, and you’re going to have fun whether you like it or not.”

In the restroom, you step out of the stall wearing the dress Jane brought for you, adjusting the hem as you take in your reflection. The fabric hugs you in all the right places with a plunging neckline, a little more daring than what you’d usually pick, but Jane insisted on something fun.

Jane grins when she sees you. “Damn, you clean up nice,” she teases. “Now, stand still.”

She spins you toward the mirror, pulling out her makeup bag. You sigh but let her get to work, tilting your chin up as she starts applying foundation.

“So,” she says casually, dabbing at your face, “did you invite Han to the party?”

You blink. “No. Why would I?”

Jane scoffs. “Because he’s totally into you.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t want to lead him on.”

“That’s exactly why you should be dating him,” she argues, moving on to your eyeliner. “Han is fun, he’s hot, and he likes you. If you’re looking for someone, it should be him.”

You chuckle. “I think you just want to live vicariously through me.”

“I know I’m right,” Jane insists, finishing up and stepping back to admire her work. “Now, let’s check ourselves out.”

The two of you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your hair and outfits. Jane rummages through her bag, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh, I picked up some fun things from the expo,” she says, pulling out a small bottle and casually dropping it into your purse.

You frown, reaching in to inspect it. “Jane—”

She smirks. “It's edible lube. Watermelon flavor. You’re very welcome.”

The company truly knows how to throw a party and it's im full swing by the time you arrive, the venue buzzing with chatter, laughter, and music. Your team is already a few drinks in, celebrating the success of the launch, and Jane wastes no time in dragging you to the bar for a drink.

“To your big night!” she toasts, clinking her glass against yours. You take a sip, letting the burn of the alcohol settle some of your lingering nerves from the day.

As the night progresses, you weave through conversations, occasionally laughing at Jane’s antics as she flirts with someone from another department. The atmosphere is lively, but you can’t shake the slight unease bubbling in your chest.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a familiar figure—Chris. He’s standing across the room, engaged in conversation with a group of people. He’s relaxed, holding a drink in one hand, his smile easy and charming. There’s a girl next to him, leaning in a little too closely, whispering something in his ear. He chuckles at whatever she says, tilting his head toward her.

Despite your efforts to steer clear of him, you feel his gaze on you from across the room. When you glance up, just for a second, you catch him watching you—his eyes dark and unreadable. The moment your gazes meet, your breath catches, and you quickly look away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever Jane is saying.

You turn toward the bar, ordering another drink just to keep yourself occupied. When you risk another glance, Chris is still there, but this time, he takes a step forward, as if he’s about to come over.

Panic flutters in your chest, and before he can get any closer, you spin around and slip into the crowd, weaving between groups of people, keeping yourself moving.

For the rest of the night, you make a conscious effort to avoid him. Every time you sense him nearby, you casually shift in the opposite direction, always staying just out of reach. You laugh a little too loudly at Jane’s jokes, engage in meaningless conversations with your coworkers, and keep your attention anywhere but on him. But even as you try to act normal, you can’t shake the feeling that Chris notices exactly what you’re doing.

The noise of the party fades behind you as you slip out of the building, the cool night air washing over your skin. You let out a slow breath, relieved to finally be away from the crowd—and more importantly, away from Chris.

Pulling out your phone, you open the ride-hailing app and quickly request a taxi. As you wait, you cross your arms, tapping your fingers against your sleeve, your mind still racing from the night's events.

Just as you exhale and glance down at your phone, you feel a firm hand on your shoulder. Your breath catches, and you spin around, startled.

Chris stands there, his eyes immediately locked onto yours. The streetlights cast a soft glow over his face, highlighting the slight furrow in his brows. "I'm assuming you were avoiding me all night," he says, his tone light but eyes sharp.

You shake your head a little too quickly. "No, I wasn’t."

He chuckles at your poor attempt at denial, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Right. So it’s just a coincidence that every time I looked your way, you turned and disappeared?"

You press your lips together, feeling caught but unwilling to admit it. Instead, you sigh and change the subject. "Why are you out here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be inside celebrating?"

Chris tilts his head slightly. "I could ask you the same thing. The product launch was a huge success for you—you should be celebrating, not sneaking off like this."

You shrug, keeping your tone casual. "I'm just exhausted."

His smirk softens into something more thoughtful. "Then let me give you a ride home."

You open your mouth to refuse, grasping for an excuse. "You’ve probably had a few drinks. You should stay and enjoy the party."

Chris shakes his head. "I only had one drink." Then, with a small smile, he adds, "I was too busy looking for you all night."

Getting no answer from you, he tries again, his smile never faltering. “Come on, just let me drive you home.”

You hesitate, shifting on your feet. “Chris, it’s fine. I can just take a taxi.”

He exhales, tilting his head. “You’re really gonna make me go back to the party alone after I spent all night looking for you?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an underlying sincerity in his voice.

You cross your arms. “You don’t have to leave just because I am.”

“But I want to.” He takes a step closer, his voice softer now. “Let me take you home.”

You sigh, knowing he won’t drop it. And truthfully, you’re too tired to argue. “Fine,” you mumble.

The car ride is quiet, the city lights flashing by as Chris drives steadily through the streets. You’re still processing everything—the party, the launch, the exhaustion weighing down on you—when Chris suddenly speaks.

"Are you free next weekend?"

You blink, caught off guard. "Huh?" You turn to look at him, your voice coming out in a stammer. "Why?"

Chris keeps his eyes on the road, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. "You’ve been exhausted and stressed these past few weeks. I figured you could use a break, so I want to take you somewhere to relax."

Your brows knit together. "You don’t have to do that."

"But I want to," he says simply, glancing at you with a small smile. "Besides, as a product manager, I have to take care of my hardworking employee."

You narrow your eyes at him. "That’s a lame excuse."

Chris chuckles. "Maybe. But it’s still valid." Then, as if sensing your hesitation, he quickly adds, "And don’t worry—there’ll be no more tests." His voice dips into something teasing, but the reassurance is clear.

When he finally pulls the car to a stop in front of your apartment building, you reach for the door handle, pausing only to turn to him. “Thanks for the ride home,” you say softly.

Chris doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes find yours in the dim light of the dashboard, holding your gaze with an intensity that makes you hold your breath. There’s something in his expression, something that makes your stomach twist in a way you’re not sure how to interpret.

"Goodnight," he finally says, his voice quieter, deeper.

You inhale sharply, steadying yourself before replying, “Goodnight.” Then, without another word, you step out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

As you stand there, you watch as Chris’s car pulls away, the red taillights glowing in the darkness before disappearing around the corner. Only then do you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, turning to head inside, your thoughts a tangled mess.

The idea of expanding the line has been on your mind ever since the expo, and now that the product is officially launching, it's the perfect time to start thinking ahead. You're deep in your work, staring intently at your computer screen as you run through potential formulas for new product variants.

Just as you’re making notes on potential ingredients, Jane suddenly appears beside you, leaning over your shoulder. “What are you working on now?” she asks, her voice laced with curiosity.

Before you can answer, she gasps, her eyes widening as she spots your screen. “Wait a second—flavored condoms?” She immediately claps her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “You should totally make a chocolate-strawberry one!”

You turn to give her a judging look without saying a word.

“Come on!” she cuts in, grinning. “Think about it. It’s classic, it’s romantic, it’s delicious.” She waggles her eyebrows at you. “And I bet Chris would love it.”

Your face heats up instantly. “Jane!”

She chuckles as she leans against your desk, watching you type away. “You know,” she starts, crossing her arms, “most people take a break after successfully launching a product. Maybe go on a vacation, treat themselves, do something fun.”

You keep your eyes on the screen. “I am doing something fun,” you say dryly, adjusting some of your notes.

Jane scoffs. “Oh yeah, I can totally see the excitement radiating off you. You should allow yourself to slack off once in a while.”

You roll your eyes. “Slacking off isn’t going to help me develop new product variants.”

She rolls her eyes at you and then she slams her hands on the table. “I’m suggesting that we take a trip this weekend. We can go to the beach, a spa, or even a nice hotel with a rooftop pool. You need a break.”

Her suggestion actually sounds nice. You could use a weekend away, just relaxing with Jane, free from all the stress of work. But then you remember Chris and his just as tempting offer.

You hesitate, torn between the two options. You don’t want to say no to Chris—especially after the way he looked at you that night, like he genuinely wanted to take care of you. But at the same time, you don’t want to reject Jane either.

As if the thought summons him, Chris walks into the elevator. You tense slightly, caught off guard by his sudden presence. Of all places and times, you didn’t expect to run into him here.

He stands beside you, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as the doors slide shut. The air in the elevator feels thick with unspoken words, but neither of you say anything at first.

Then, Chris finally breaks the silence. “You don’t need to pack a lot of things for tomorrow.”

You blink, turning to him in confusion. “Tomorrow?”

Chris finally looks at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

Your mouth parts slightly, realization hitting you. So he just decided that you’re going with him? No further discussion? Before you can even think of what to say, the elevator dings, reaching the parking basement.

Chris steps out first, turning back just slightly to say, “See you tomorrow.”

Saturday morning arrives, and your bag sits neatly packed by the door. You stand a few feet away, staring at it, arms crossed, deep in thought. You haven’t really accepted either Jane’s or Chris’s offer, yet here you are, packed and ready for something. The indecision gnaws at you. If you go with Jane, you’ll get a fun, carefree trip, but if you go with Chris…

You sigh, pressing your fingers against your temples. You don’t even know why you’re hesitating so much. It’s just a trip, right? Just a short getaway to relax, exactly what Jane has been telling you to do. But Chris is the one who planned this. He wants to take you somewhere to relax.

Your phone buzzes on the table, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hesitate before walking over and picking it up. It's a message from Chris.

I’m on my way.

Your stomach flips. So that’s it—he’s already coming. You can still change your mind. You can still text Jane and tell her to meet up instead. But as you stare at your phone screen, you realize you’re not typing. You’re just waiting.

A few minutes later, your phone rings, the sound cutting through the quiet of your apartment. You glance at the screen—Chris. You hesitate before answering. “Hello?”

“I’m outside,” he says smoothly. “Take your time, but I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”

Your heart does an odd little flip at his voice. You walk toward the window, peeking through the curtains. And there he is—standing by his car, dressed casually in a plain t-shirt and jeans, yet somehow still managing to look effortlessly good. He leans against the side of the car, one hand in his pocket, his gaze occasionally flickering toward the building entrance as he waits for you.

You swallow. This is really happening. “…Okay. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Chris hums in approval. “See you soon.”

The call ends, and you exhale, glancing back at your packed bag. There’s no turning back now.

After two hours of driving, Chris finally pulls into the grand entrance of a luxurious hotel, nestled away from the city’s chaos. The moment you step out of the car, you take in the stunning surroundings—the peaceful scenery, the fresh air, and the sheer elegance of the place.

“You brought me here?” you ask, looking up at the towering hotel.

Chris smirks as he hands his keys to the valet. “Yeah. This is where you can fully relax.”

You follow him inside, still in awe. The lobby is just as grand as the exterior—high ceilings, warm lighting, and a sense of tranquility that makes you realize just how tense you’ve been lately.

At the check-in counter, Chris handles everything smoothly, and before you know it, the two of you are in the elevator, heading up to your suite.

When you enter, your breath catches. The place is massive—spacious living area, floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view, and elegant decor that makes it feel like something out of a travel magazine.

Chris sets his bag down and stretches. “Nice, huh?”

“Nice?” you echo. “This is… way too much.”

He shrugs casually. “Hey, it's okay to spoil yourself once in a while.”

Before you can overthink it, Chris gestures toward the rooms. “Oh, and before you start panicking, I booked a suite with two bedrooms.” He smirks when he glances back at you. “What? Did you think I was gonna make you share a bed with me?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “I wasn’t panicking.”

He chuckles, clearly amused. “Sure you weren’t.”

You grab your bag and head straight for your bedroom, needing a moment to yourself. The suite is spacious, luxurious even, but all you can focus on is the fact that you and Chris are here alone. No Jane, no work, no distractions—just the two of you.

As you unzip your bag and start unpacking, the realization settles in your stomach. You haven't spent this much uninterrupted time with Chris before, not without some work-related excuse to keep things professional. And now, here you are, in a beautiful hotel, just the two of you—

“Hey.”

You jump slightly at the sound of his voice. Turning around, you see Chris leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with an easy smile.

“What do you want to do first?” he asks.

You quickly look away, busying yourself with your bag. “I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

He hums, as if considering his options. “We could check out the pool, go to the spa, take a walk around… or we could just stay in and order room service.”

The way he says it, with that teasing lilt in his voice, makes you glance at him suspiciously. He chuckles at your reaction but doesn’t push.

After some deliberation, you and Chris end up choosing the spa. A little relaxation doesn’t sound too bad after the past few stressful weeks.

The spa receptionist greets you both warmly, checking the reservation. “Ah, here it is! A couple’s spa package for Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

Your head snaps toward Chris, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He only grins, utterly unbothered, and shrugs innocently. “Must’ve been a mix-up,” he says, feigning cluelessness.

You don’t buy it for a second, you tilt your head and narrow your eyes suspiciously at him.

He laughs, placing a hand over his chest. “What? It’s just easier to book that way.”

You roll your eyes but don’t push it. The receptionist leads you both to the spa room, explaining the treatments you’ll be getting.

After a relaxing and rejuvenating massage session, the next thing is to soak your bodies in the hot tub. The water is warm, wrapping around you like a soft embrace, steam rising in delicate wisps around the edges of the tub. Your body feels weightless, your muscles still loose from the earlier massage, but your mind is anything but relaxed. Because right next to you, Chris is lounging, his bare shoulders glistening with moisture, his skin slightly reddened from the heat.

You’re sitting close—so close that your legs occasionally brush under the water, sending small ripples between you. The scent of essential oils lingers in the air, mixing with the faint traces of Chris’s cologne, now softened by the steam. His body, partially submerged, is strong and toned, his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. The water laps at his skin, highlighting the definition of his collarbones, the faint flush of heat trailing down his neck and over his chest.

Chris tilts his head back slightly, eyes half-lidded as he exhales a deep sigh. “This isn’t so bad, huh?” he muses, voice low and lazy, like he’s savoring the moment.

You nod, though you’re barely paying attention to his words. The atmosphere is thick—something about the closeness, the warmth, the way the steam clings to both of you, makes it hard to breathe.

Then, he shifts. Just slightly, but enough that your arms brush, and you swear you feel the heat of his skin even through the water. Your heart stumbles in your chest, but you force yourself to stay composed.

Chris glances at you from the side, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “You’re quiet.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m just enjoying the peace.”

His smirk widens, and he leans in just a fraction. “So, do I make a good husband?”

You scoff, flicking a small splash of water his way. “I knew you put ‘Mr. and Mrs. Bang’ on purpose.”

Instead of coming up with another of his witty remarks, his hand reaches up. His fingertips graze your cheek as he tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

The steam swirls around you, the water lapping softly as you lock eyes with him. And suddenly, it’s there—that pull, that tension that’s been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Chris’s lips part slightly, as if he’s about to say something. But then, just as quickly as it came, he exhales, leans back, and lets the moment slip away. The warmth remains, though—not just from the water, but from the ghost of his touch on your skin.

The hotel room is quiet except for the TV faintly playing from the living area, but your mind is anything but still. The warmth from the spa still lingers on your skin, but there’s also something else—something unspoken that settled between you and Chris in that hot tub.

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your dress and smoothing out the fabric. A knock on the door startles you and before you can answer, the door creaks open, and Chris steps inside, leaning against the doorframe. His casual stance contrasts with the way his gaze lingers on you, like he’s momentarily forgotten why he came here in the first place.

You shift under his stare. “What?”

His lips parting slightly before he huffs a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Nothing. I just—” He pauses, finally pulling his eyes away to clear his throat. “I was gonna ask if Mexican food sounds good for dinner.”

You nod. “Mexican food sounds great.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and then there it is again—that look. Soft, lingering, like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t but can’t help himself.

The air thickens between you. But just as quickly as it comes, he straightens, pushing off the doorframe. “Alright.”

You barely get a word out before he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You exhale, staring at the door for a moment before turning back to the mirror. Your reflection looks just as confused as you feel.

It only takes a ten minutes of walk to get to the restaurant. It is lively, filled with chatter, laughter, and upbeat music playing in the background. The casual, fun atmosphere helps ease some of the tension sitting in your chest since earlier, and you’re grateful for it. It feels like a normal dinner—just two colleagues unwinding after a stressful few weeks.

Chris sits across from you, his elbows resting on the table as he scans the menu. Then, out of nowhere, he glances up at you and smirks.

“You look really nice tonight,” he says, voice low but clear over the music.

Your fingers pause on the menu, heat creeping up your neck. “Thanks, Chris,” you murmur, trying to focus on the list of dishes instead of the way he’s looking at you.

The waiter comes with the drinks first and Chris wastes no time to initiate a toast. He lifts his glass, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "To a well-deserved break," he says, eyes locked on yours.

You mirror his action, tapping your glass lightly against his. "To a well-deserved break," you echo, feeling the warmth of the moment settle between you.

Just as you're about to take a sip, a voice interrupts.

"Now, this is a sight I wasn't expecting."

You freeze, lowering your glass as you turn toward the voice.

Han Jisung stands beside your table, hands in his pockets, wearing that signature playful smirk. His gaze flickers between you and Chris before settling on you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Fancy running into you here," Han says, tilting his head. "And with such fine company, too."

You slowly set your glass down, eyebrows raising in mild surprise. "Han?"

Han grins. "What, no warm welcome?" He pulls out a chair from the empty table beside you and plops down like he belongs there. "I mean, I know you’re glad to see me.”

You exhale a shaky, awkward laugh. "What are you doing here?"

Han nonchalantly shrugs. "My favorite musicians are doing this coaching clinic but now..." He looks back at you, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I believe love brought me here."

Han stays exactly where he is, making himself comfortable as if he was invited. The waiter comes by, and without missing a beat, Han orders a drink for himself before turning his full attention back to you.

“So,” he starts, leaning his elbows on the table. “Are you two dating?”

You almost choke on your sip of water. “No!”

Chris raises an eyebrow at your immediate denial but says nothing.

Han hums, tilting his head. “Really? You’re having a private dinner, in a fancy hotel, after spending the whole day together.” He taps his chin, pretending to think. “Sounds very date-like to me.”

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice even. “Chris is the product manager. I’m just an employee.”

Han leans back in his chair, grinning. “That so?” He flicks his gaze to Chris, then back to you. “Then I guess that means I still have a chance.”

Chris exhales a small laugh, shaking his head as he picks up his drink. "You're really saying that in front of me?"

Han just smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What? I’d rather be upfront than sneak around.”

You don’t respond, feeling the weight of both their gazes on you. Instead, you take a slow sip of your drink, pretending you didn’t hear the question at all.

Chris doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s watching your reaction closely. The energy at the table shifts, tension weaving itself into the playful conversation. This dinner is turning out to be far more complicated than you expected.

After dinner, Han stretches his arms above his head and flashes you both an easy grin. “Alright, since I crashed your dinner, how about another round of drinks? My treat.”

You open your mouth to decline, but Han quickly raises a hand. “Ah, ah. No excuses. I insist.”

Chris exhales through his nose, glancing at you before shrugging. “Guess we don’t have a choice, huh?”

Han smirks. “Exactly.”

And that’s how you find yourself nursing another drink while Han chatters away, switching between teasing you and throwing light jabs at Chris. The atmosphere is playful, but there's an underlying tension—one you can’t quite put your finger on.

After a while, Han glances toward the back of the bar where a pool table sits unoccupied. “Hey, Chris,” he says, nudging his shoulder. “How about a round of billiards?”

Chris barely looks up from his glass. “Nah, I’m good.”

Han clicks his tongue. “Come on, what’s the matter? Scared I’ll wipe the floor with you?”

Chris scoffs, finally looking up. “I just don’t feel like playing.”

Han leans in, grinning. “Or maybe you don’t want to play in front of her because you’re bad at it.”

Chris rolls his eyes, but you can see the challenge sinking in. He takes a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. “Alright, fine. One round.”

Han’s grin widens. “That’s the spirit.”

And just like that, they both get up, leaving you caught between them. You sit there, unsure whether you should follow or stay put. But then Han turns and gives you a wink. “Come on, you should watch. It'll be fun.”

You stand near the pool table, watching as Han and Chris take their turns. It’s hard not to admire them, each in their own way. Han plays with an easy confidence, spinning the cue in his hand between shots, throwing playful smirks in your direction every time he sinks a ball. He knows you’re watching—thrives on it, even—and winks at you whenever your eyes linger on him for too long. Chris, on the other hand, is completely focused. He lines up each shot with precise calculation, his movements fluid and controlled. He doesn’t notice the way you stare as he leans over the table, one hand bracing against the felt, the other guiding the cue through the gap of his thumb and index finger. His execution is flawless, the sharp crack of the cue ball meeting its target reverberating through the air before the ball rolls cleanly into the pocket.

Your gaze lingers a little too long on the way his shirt stretches across his back as he moves, the flex of his forearms, the quiet concentration etched into his face.

The game becomes more intense as it nears its end, the atmosphere thick with unspoken competition. Chris is leading—by a lot—but Han remains unfazed, leaning casually against the pool table as he watches Chris line up his next shot, stretching his shoulder before finally taking it.

“You’re scarily good at this,” you comment, watching as Chris smoothly sinks another ball.

Chris smirks, straightening up as he twirls the cue stick in his hand. “Just lucky.”

Han chuckles at that, shaking his head. “Bullshit. You knew exactly how that shot was going to play out.”

Chris only shrugs, his smirk widening. “Guess I’m just built different.”

You stifle a laugh, but Han only grins, completely unfazed by his impending loss. He rests his hip against the edge of the table, spinning his cue between his fingers as he glances at you. “Don’t you think Chris should’ve warned me that he’s a pro before I agreed to this game?”

You glance between them, lips twitching. “I mean… you were the one who challenged him.”

Chris hums in agreement as he leans down for his next shot, his muscles flexing subtly beneath his shirt. “Exactly. I was just minding my own business.”

Han tilts his head, smirking. “And yet, here we are.”

Chris doesn’t respond, only focusing on his final shot. The cue ball strikes cleanly, sending the last striped ball into the pocket with ease. The eight-ball is next, and Han watches, unfazed, as Chris lines up the winning shot.

“Make it quick, champ,” Han drawls, stepping back. “Put me out of my misery.”

Chris exhales a quiet chuckle before smoothly sinking the eight-ball. The moment the ball drops into the pocket, he straightens up, placing the cue stick on the table with a victorious smirk.

“Well,” Han sighs dramatically, “I suppose I should’ve known better than to challenge the product manager.”

Chris grins, holding out a hand. “Good game.”

Han eyes it for a moment before shaking it with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. You got me this time.” Then he turns to you, flashing that familiar playful glint in his eyes. “Now, how about a consolation drink?”

Chris holds up a hand at him. “No, thank you. We're heading back to our room.”

Han raises a brow at Chris’s refusal, but the glint in his eyes shows his amusement. “Calling it a night already?”

Chris shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. We’ve got an early morning.”

Han hums knowingly, then glances at you. “What about you? No celebratory drink with the loser?”

Before you can answer, Chris smoothly cuts in, “She’s had enough for tonight.” Then, without missing a beat, he tilts his head at Han. “Are you covering the drinks?”

Han exhales a laugh, shaking his head at the sudden change in subject. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

Chris grins. “Appreciate it, man.” He gives Han a pat on the back before stepping beside you, placing a hand on the small of your back in an easy, natural motion. “We’ll see you around.”

You barely have time to react before Chris is guiding you toward the exit, the warmth of his hand lingering against your spine. You glance over your shoulder to see Han still smirking, watching the two of you leave as if he just lost a game bigger than billiards.

You look over your shoulder at Han and softly mutters, “Goodnight, Han.”

Chris doesn’t look back. If anything, he carries himself like a champion walking away with his prize.

Back in the hotel suite, you kick off your shoes with a sigh, feeling the exhaustion from the night settle in. Chris locks the door behind him, rolling his shoulders as he stretches.

Just as you’re about to head to your bedroom, you pause and turn to him. “Why did you tell Han we have an early morning tomorrow?”

Chris leans against the back of the couch, looking completely at ease. “Because we do.”

You narrow your eyes. “Since when?”

“Since I decided I’m taking you to look around the town tomorrow,” he replies smoothly.

You blink at him. “You just made that up on the spot, didn’t you?”

Chris grins. “Maybe. But it’s a good idea, isn’t it?”

You exhale, crossing your arms as you study him. He doesn’t seem the least bit guilty about throwing you into plans you didn’t even know existed. Instead, he just watches you expectantly, waiting for your reaction.

After a moment, you shake your head with a small laugh. “Fine.”

Just as you turn toward your bedroom, Chris’s voice stops you. “You couldn’t stop staring at me back there.”

You freeze, then slowly turn to see him smirking, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the couch. “I—what?” you stammer.

“At the pool table,” he continues, tilting his head slightly. “You were watching me the whole time. Were you impressed?” His smirk deepens, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Heat rushes to your face. “I—I was just watching the game,” you sputter, trying to sound nonchalant, but you know you’re failing miserably.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Mmm-hmm. Sure.”

You scowl at him, determined to regain control of the situation. “Goodnight, Chris.”

Then, before he can say anything else, you spin around and march into your bedroom, shutting the door a little too quickly behind you. On the other side of the door, you swear you can hear him chuckling to himself.

You must admit that you had one of the nicest sleep last night and you wake up feeling so refreshed. You step out of your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, only to freeze mid-step.

Chris’s door swings open a moment later, and he walks out, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. His shirtless torso is on full display—his toned abs, the defined lines of his muscles, the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips. And then… there’s the very obvious outline beneath them. Your eyes widen before you can stop yourself.

Chris catches your stare almost instantly, and instead of covering up or acting embarrassed, he grins. “Morning.” His voice is still rough with sleep, lazy and amused.

You snap your gaze up to his face, your cheeks heating instantly. “Morning,” you mutter, pretending you didn’t just get caught blatantly looking.

Chris smirks as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. “You okay?”

“I—yeah, of course.” You clear your throat, quickly moving toward where the phone is to distract yourself. “I'll order breakfast.”

Chris chuckles under his breath as he walks past you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “Sure. But take your time.” His voice drops a little. “Seems like you need a moment.”

You don’t dare look at him as you pick up the phone to call room service, but you can feel his gaze lingering on you, his amusement practically radiating through the air.

The town is lively, filled with the buzz of locals and tourists alike. Cobblestone streets wind between charming shops and cafés, and the air carries the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee.

You and Chris walk side by side through the bustling streets, taking in the sights. He’s dressed casually in a thin black sweater and jeans, hands tucked into the pockets, his sunglasses perched on his nose. Every so often, he glances at you, making sure you’re keeping up, and when the crowd gets too thick, his hand brushes against the small of your back, guiding you through.

“This place is nice,” you comment, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. “It’s got that old-town charm.”

Chris nods in agreement and then he tilts his head toward the main plaza. “Come on. There’s a really good café around the corner.”

The café is small yet cozy, the kind of place that feels warm and welcoming the moment you step inside. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttery pastries lingers in the air as you and Chris settle into a corner table. He orders for both of you—croissants, a slice of cake to share, and two lattes.

“Try this,” Chris says, pushing a forkful of cake toward you. You roll your eyes but take a bite, the sweetness melting on your tongue.

Just as you’re about to comment on how good it is, your phone buzzes in your pocket. When you pull it out, Jane’s name flashes on the screen.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Chris, grabbing your phone and stepping outside to take the call.

The cool air greets you as you press the phone to your ear. “Hey.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Jane says immediately, skipping the pleasantries. “You’re not sick.”

You let out a sigh, you should have keep your phone turned off after sending a text to her that you couldn't go on a trip with her because you don’t feel well. “Okay, fine. You caught me.”

“So? Where are you?”

You hesitate before admitting, “I’m… on a trip. With Chris.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then— “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. So, you and Chris are dating?”

“What? No!” You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder through the café window where Chris is stirring his coffee, completely unaware of your conversation. “It’s just... a trip. That’s all.”

Jane hums, unconvinced. “Right.”

“It is,” you insist.

“Mm-hmm,” Jane drags out the sound, then casually adds, “Don’t say I didn't warn you.”

You frown. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Jane snickers. “I’m just saying, be careful.”

Before you can demand further clarification, she hangs up, leaving you standing there with a million thoughts running through your head.

When you return to the table, Chris raises a brow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, sinking into your seat. You take a sip of your latte, but your mind is elsewhere, Jane’s words echoing in your head.

Chris is watching you closely, like he can tell something’s off. “You sure?”

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah.”

The next stop on your sightseeing trip leads you to a bustling street lined with small vendors, each stall displaying an array of handcrafted trinkets, souvenirs, and snacks. The soft jingle of wind chimes mixes with the hum of conversation, and your eyes wander over the colorful selection of charm keychains at one of the stalls.

Chris reaches for a pair of matching ones—tiny silver pendants shaped like crescent moons. “What do you think?” he asks, turning to you with a small smile. “Should we get matching ones?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Why?”

Chris tilts his head slightly, looking genuinely confused. “I don’t know. Just thought it’d be nice.”

You let out a sigh, the question that’s been gnawing at you finally slipping out. “Chris… why are you doing this?”

His brows furrow. “Doing what?”

“This,” you say, motioning vaguely between the two of you. “Taking me on this trip, buying matching keychains—acting like we’re…” You trail off, shaking your head.

Chris doesn’t answer immediately, his fingers still loosely holding the keychains.

“I mean, I’m thankful for everything,” you continue, your voice softer now. “You helped me with the product, you were there for the launch, and I really appreciate it. But I just… I don’t understand why you’re doing all of this.”

Still, he doesn’t say anything. His lips part slightly as if he’s about to speak, but no words come out.

You sigh, feeling a sudden wave of frustration—not just at him, but at yourself, at the situation, at the uncertainty pressing against your chest. “I don’t— I don’t even know why I’m here,” you mumble before turning on your heel and walking away, leaving Chris standing there in front of the vendor, still holding the matching charms.

“I don’t need you anymore, Chris,” you blurt out and it's coming out harsher than you intended to.

Before you know it, you walk away, your steps quick and uneven, as the inexplicable anger coils tighter in your chest. You don’t understand why you feel this way—why the warmth of the day suddenly feels suffocating, why Chris’s kindness is making you uneasy instead of flattered.

You weave through the crowd, barely registering the faces passing by. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your thoughts race in circles. Maybe it’s because Jane’s words are still ringing in your mind. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what Chris wants from you. Or maybe it’s because a part of you is scared to admit that you want something from him, too.

Before you can overthink it any further, you spot a taxi idling by the curb. Without hesitation, you flag it down and slip into the backseat, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

As the taxi pulls away, you rest your head against the window, watching the streets blur past. You try to shake off the tight feeling in your chest, but it lingers, stubborn and heavy.

When you finally arrive at the hotel, you step out of the taxi with a heavy breath, your emotions still tangled. You don’t want to go back to the suite—not yet. The idea of facing Chris again, of sitting in the silence of your thoughts, feels unbearable.

So, instead of heading toward the elevators, you make a sharp turn down the hallway, following the soft hum of music and conversation until you reach the hotel bar.

The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the space, the air thick with the scent of aged liquor and citrus. A few patrons are scattered around, some in quiet conversations, others lost in their own world with a drink in hand. You slide onto a stool at the bar, exhaling as you prop your elbows against the counter.

The bartender approaches, offering a polite smile. “What can I get you?”

You hesitate for only a second. “Whiskey, neat.”

The bartender nods before turning away, and you press your lips together, trying to push down the lingering frustration in your chest. You tell yourself you just need a moment to breathe, to clear your head. But deep down, you know you’re avoiding more than just Chris.

The warmth of the whiskey spreads through your body, making everything feel a little too soft, a little too slow. You don’t know how many drinks you’ve had by now—just that when you finally stand up from the bar, the room tilts slightly, and your legs feel like they belong to someone else.

You blink, trying to steady yourself, but before you can take another step, a firm hand catches your arm.

"Whoa there," a familiar voice drawls, amused. "Didn't think I'd see you like this tonight."

You look up through the haze, and for a moment, you think—Chris? But no, there’s something off. The grip is steady but playful, the warmth of the body against yours more teasing than concerned.

Your brows furrow as you sway slightly, and he easily shifts to support your weight, slipping an arm around your waist. "Let's get you somewhere before you pass out on me."

You want to protest, but everything is too heavy, and your tongue feels slow. So you just let him guide you, his body pressed close as he half-carries you toward the elevator.

By the time you reach a room, he’s lowering you onto the sofa, his hands lingering just a second longer than necessary before he steps back. You blink blearily up at him, the alcohol making your thoughts sluggish.

"About earlier, I—" you murmur, your words slurred. "I'm sorry, Chris."

You blink a few times, trying to clear the haze in your mind, and when you finally focus on the man in front of you, you realize it’s not Chris—it’s Han.

Han tilts his head, watching your reaction with amusement. “Wow,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. “I save you from stumbling around drunk, and you call me by another guy’s name? That hurts, babe.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. You’re too disoriented, too embarrassed.

Han just chuckles, shaking his head. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room before the product manager turns over this place,” he jokingly says, reaching out to help you up from the sofa. His grip is firm but careful as he leans down slightly.

Just as he’s about to pull you up, there’s a knock on the door. Han pauses. You barely register it before he’s already walking over, pulling the door open with his usual ease. And then—

Chris. He stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable, his gaze shifting from Han to you slumped on the sofa. His eyes narrow slightly, taking in the situation.

Han leans against the doorframe, an easy smirk playing on his lips. “You’re bothering us, man,” he says, tilting his head slightly toward you as if the two of you had been in the middle of something.

Chris, unimpressed, ignores him completely and looks at you. “Let’s go back to our room,” he says, his voice firm but not unkind.

Han, however, steps forward, blocking the doorway before Chris can step inside. “What, you think you’re the only one with a big dick?” he taunts, arching a brow. "I can satisfy her just fine."

You fumble, shaking your head, trying to deny whatever this conversation is turning into—but your words come out slurred, incoherent.

Han laughs at your attempt. “See? She can’t even say it properly. Must be overwhelmed.” He turns back to you, lowering his voice slightly, his tone teasing. “Mine is better, right babe?”

Chris scoffs, his jaw ticking. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Han’s smirk widens, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You know what? Let’s ask her,” he says, looking at you expectantly.

You open your mouth, struggling to string together a sentence, but the alcohol has made your thoughts sluggish. Your gaze bounces between the two men, their contrasting expressions—Chris, standing tall and tense, and Han, relaxed and enjoying every second of this.

Then Han grins down at you. “We both know you like mine better.”

And that’s when it just bursts out of you—louder than you intended, words tumbling before you can stop them.

“I like Chris!”

Silence.

Both men freeze, their gazes snapping to you. Your brain catches up a second too late, and your eyes widen in horror as you quickly scramble to correct yourself.

“I—I mean, I like Chris’s dick better!”

Chris exhales sharply, a sound dangerously close to a laugh, and when you dare glance up at him, you can see it—he’s trying not to smile. His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes despite the situation.

Han, on the other hand, whistles lowly. “Damn. Didn’t even have to try that hard.” He shakes his head, feigning disappointment. “I guess that settles it, then.”

Chris doesn’t waste another second. He steps forward, taking you by the hand—not rough, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. “Come on,” he murmurs, guiding you carefully toward the door.

As he leads you out, Han calls after you with a cheeky grin. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me!”

You step out of the bathroom, damp hair clinging to the sides of your face, the cold shower having done its job in sobering you up. As you tighten the belt around your bathrobe, you notice Chris already waiting for you in the suite’s dimly lit living area, a glass of water in his hand.

His gaze lifts the second he hears you, scanning you briefly before he holds the glass out. “Feel better now?” His voice is quiet, careful.

You nod, stepping forward to take the water from him. As you drink, Chris gestures for you to sit on the sofa, and he takes the spot beside you. The room is still, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning, and for a moment, neither of you speak.

Then Chris exhales, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry.”

You put the glass down and hold your hands up at him. “No—I should be the one apologizing. I—”

But Chris shakes his head. “I’m not talking about earlier. Well, not just earlier.” He pauses, shifting slightly so that he’s facing you. “I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”

Your breath catches, sensing the weight in his words. He watches you carefully, he licks his before saying, “I like you.”

The words are soft but firm, spoken as if he’s been holding them in for too long. Chris lets out a quiet, almost self-deprecating chuckle. “I liked you before all of this,” he continues, his fingers rubbing against his knee. “But you never noticed me. And I thought... maybe that meant you weren’t interested.” He hesitates, then sighs. “That’s why I took this whole condom thing as an excuse. Just so I could be close to you.”

Inside your chest, your heart stutters and your lips part slightly, but no words come out. You completely taken aback by his confession.

His eyes search yours, waiting, wanting. Then, with more certainty, he says it again—clearer, deeper. “I like you.”

The room feels smaller, like the air has thickened around you, pressing in with the weight of everything unsaid between you.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, almost hesitant.

Chris doesn’t break eye contact, and in the soft glow of the lamp, you see it—the quiet sincerity, the vulnerability he rarely ever lets show. He’s been waiting for this moment. For you.

Your heart is pounding. You don’t know if it’s from the weight of his confession or the way Chris is looking at you—hopeful, expectant, like he’s holding his breath for your answer. So you kiss him. You lean in without thinking, without hesitating, pressing your lips against his.

Chris responds instantly, a quiet sound of surprise escaping him before he kisses you back, his hand instinctively coming up to cup your cheek. The warmth of his lips, the way he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, the way he pulls you just a little closer—it’s overwhelming, dizzying, and you don’t realize how much you’ve wanted this until now.

When you finally pull away, your breaths are uneven, your hands trembling slightly against him. Chris watches you, his eyes dark and laced with something unreadable—until a slow, teasing smirk spreads across his face.

“So,” he drawls, voice lower now, “does this mean you like me? Or just my extra large dick?”

Your stomach flips, and you immediately fumble for a response. “I—I like you! Of course, I like you—”

Chris raises an eyebrow, still smirking, enjoying how he can easily tease you.

You groan, realizing your mistake. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like your dick—”

Chris bites back a laugh while you sigh in frustration and run a hand through your hair before forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You look at him, trying to keep your voice steady. “What I mean is... your dick is a part of you. And I like you—all of you. As a whole person.”

Then you realize what you just said, and your face heats up instantly.

Chris grins, clearly enjoying your flustered state. He leans in, closing the distance between you again. “I really like when you get flustered like this,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you again.

This time, he kisses you slower, deeper, savoring the moment. And when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “I like you whole too.”

You never thought this was how things would turn out. What started as a professional arrangement—just testing a product, just a temporary thing—became something else entirely. Somewhere between the teasing, the lingering glances, the way Chris always found a way to pull you into his orbit, you fell. Hard.

And now, lying beside him in bed, as you hover over him, your fingers brushing against his jaw before leaning in to kiss him again, you wonder how you ever thought you could keep things casual.

Slowly, his fingers work at the tie of your bathrobe, loosening it with quiet precision. You feel the fabric slacken around you, but he doesn’t push it off just yet. Instead, he looks up at you, his gaze heavy, filled with something you can’t quite put into words.

You pull back just enough to take him in—the way his lips are slightly parted, his hair mussed from your hands, the way his chest rises and falls steadily beneath you.

Chris catches your lingering stare, and a slow grin tugs at his lips. “What are you thinking?” His voice is warm, teasing, but there’s an underlying softness to it.

You hesitate before speaking. “I was just thinking… I never expected this.”

He chuckles as he runs his hand through your hair. “What? That you’d fall for me?”

You briefly look away before shyly denying it. “I didn’t say that.”

He grins, brushing his nose against yours. “You didn’t have to.”

You don’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, you kiss him again, slower this time, letting yourself sink into the feeling of his lips, the way he responds to you so effortlessly.

As your mouths move together, you feel him shift beneath you, his hands finally sliding the bathrobe off your shoulders, letting it slip from your body. The cool air kisses your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his hands, the way they roam over you with quiet reverence.

Chris hums against your lips, his fingers tracing slow, circular patterns along your back. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.

You shiver—not from the cold, but from the way he says it. From the way he looks at you, as if you’re something out of this world, ethereal. And then he’s pulling you down again, kissing you deeper, holding you against him like he has no intention of letting go.

The tension in the room only intensifies as your fingers trail down his front, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. Chris exhales softly as your hand moves lower, calmly working open the button of his jeans before tugging down the zipper. He lowly groans when you push the fabric aside, his arousal springing free into your waiting hand.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, feeling the heat of him pulse beneath your touch as you start to lightly stroke him. He groans in response, his head tilting back against the pillows, his hands gripping the nape of your neck as he exhales a shaky breath.

“You’re really not gonna take it slow, huh?” he murmurs, his voice roughened by want, but there’s amusement laced in his words.

You glance up at him, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips before you lower yourself further, trailing soft kisses down the ridges of his abs. His muscles tense beneath your touch, his breath uneven as you take your time.

Chris watches you with darkened eyes, his lips parted as you move lower still. Your head is hanging only inches from where he wants you the most and you're looking at him with mischievous glints in your eyes. His hand moves to your hair, not guiding, just resting, as if grounding himself in the feeling of you.

Keeping your eyes locked with his, your tongue glides slowly along his length, tracing every ridge and vein as you take your time tasting him. He growls low in his throat, the sound reverberating through the room, his grip tightening in your hair for just a second before he forces himself to relax.

When you finally take him into your mouth, inch by inch, he exhales sharply, his abs flexing beneath your hands. You try to take more of him, but his sheer size makes it difficult, and he notices immediately.

"Take it slow," he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint. His hand cradles the back of your head, not pushing, just guiding. "You're doing so well."

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock and you lick your lips before you try again, taking him slower this time. You let out a soft, breathy sound against him, sending vibrations through his body. He props himself up on one elbow, glancing down to watch you, his gaze dark and filled with something deeper than just desire. The way your lips stretch around him, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him—he can’t tear his eyes away.

"Look at you," he mutters, slipping his fingers through your hair, brushing it back so he can see you better. His thumb grazes your cheek, his touch almost reverent. "Making me feel so good."

You feel the heat of his gaze searing into you, the way his muscles tense beneath your touch, the way his breath shudders out in ragged exhales. Every sound he makes, every soft praise he gives, spurs you on, making you want to push his control to the edge.

“Damn,” he breathes out, voice strained. His fingers thread through your hair, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “You’re really trying to ruin me, huh?”

Your hand moves in perfect sync with your mouth, gliding along the rest of his length as you work him over with slow, gentle strokes. You can feel him losing his restraint, his fingers gripping your hair a little too tightly as he fights against the pleasure building inside him.

"Shit," he groans, his voice raw, his control slipping fast. You glance up at him through your lashes, meeting his dark, hooded gaze, and that alone seems to push him to the edge.

Before he can warn you, his body shudders, and he spills into your mouth with a sharp, choked sound. The warmth floods your tongue too quickly for you to take it all, and some dribbles past your lips, running down your chin.

Chris curses under his breath, quickly sitting up, his hand cupping your cheek. "I'm sorry—I didn’t mean to—" he starts, his thumb swiping at the mess on your chin, but you just softly smile at him in response. Then, without breaking eye contact, you tilt your head back slightly and swallow.

He watches, his chest rising and falling heavily, his lips parting in awe before he exhales a rough chuckle. His eyes darken with something deeper than just satisfaction.

"That was so fucking hot," he roughly murmurs before pulling you close and kissing you hard.

Chris pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with something intense, something hungry. Before you can react, he tilts your chin up and swipes his tongue along your skin, cleaning up the remnants of his release with slow, little licks. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours again, deep and consuming.

Then, just as quickly, he pulls away and slides off the bed. You watch, dazed, as he strides across the room toward your bag perched on the chair.

Your stomach twists when you realize what he’s doing. "Chris—"

He ignores your protest, rummaging through your belongings with zero shame. "I know you keep them in here," he says, amusement laced in his tone.

You bury your face in your hands, mortified, as he finally retrieves a condom. But instead of returning right away, his fingers pause, and when you peek through your fingers, you see him holding something else. Something small. Something very, very familiar.

Chris turns around, holding up a tiny bottle and you slightly panic remembering the edible lube Jane slipped into your bag after the expo. His smirk deepens as he examines the label. "How did you know I like watermelon?" He quirks a brow at you.

Your face burns, completely flustered and a little mortified. "I—I didn’t!"

He hums, clearly enjoying your embarrassment, before tossing the bottle onto the bed beside you. Then he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Guess we’ll have to put it to good use, then."

Chris pops the cap open with a soft click, and the sweet, fruity scent of watermelon fills the space between you. His gaze flickers up to yours, dark and amused, before he tips the bottle over your skin.

The cool gel dribbles onto your chest, your stomach, the sensitive curves of your breasts. You gasp at the sensation, your body tensing as he smears it over your skin with his broad hands, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

"Sensitive, huh?" His voice is warm with amusement as he smooths the lube over your skin, making sure to spread it evenly. "I’ll be gentle."

You barely have time to process his words before he leans in, his mouth pressing against your collarbone. His tongue swipes against your skin, slow and deliberate, tasting the sticky sweetness. The heat of his mouth contrasts with the cool gel, making you shiver as he works his way down, following the trail he created with his hands.

Chris hums as he licks a stripe up your chest, the vibration sending a fresh wave of tingles down your spine. "Not bad," he murmurs against your skin before he kisses the skin under your navel.

The next thing you know, his lips latch onto your hardening nipple, tugging it between his teeth, sucking at it so hard before finally letting go, leaving your nipple wet and swollen. He does the same with the other one but this time, his hand massaging your ample flesh in reverence, the lube makes his hand glides smoothly across the two mounds before he brings them to the middle, allowing him to take both nipples into his mouth.

You arch under his touch, hands gripping the sheets as he takes his time, licking, tasting, teasing. He’s thorough—almost too thorough—as if savoring every inch of you, dragging the moment out until you’re squirming beneath him, breathless and overstimulated.

Chris finally pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. He grins, voice husky when he says, "I think I might like watermelon even more now."

He watches you with a teasing glint in his eyes as he puts more lube on your most sensitive spot, his fingers moving with deliberate slowness as he smears it all over your pulsating sex. The cool sensation makes you gasp, your body instinctively arching against his touch. His smirk deepens at your reaction, and he dips his head, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you.

“You know,” he muses, dragging his fingers lazily through the slickness between your folds, “this might just be my new favorite flavor.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his warm mouth pressing against your wetness, his tongue gliding through the sweetness he just applied. The contrast between the cool lube and the heat of his tongue sends a shudder through your body. His hands settle on your hips, holding you steady as he takes his time, savoring every movement.

Chris hums against you, the vibration making you gasp again, and he chuckles at your response. He flicks his tongue over your clit before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. “You taste even sweeter now,” he says, his voice low and playful.

He doesn’t stop until he feels you tremble beneath him, his grip firm yet reassuring as he holds you in place. The tension coiling deep inside you finally unravels, and a soft cry escapes your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you. He doesn’t pull away immediately, instead, his tongue moving gently to prolong your high until you’re left gasping, your body still humming from the aftershocks.

When he finally lifts his head, his mouth is glistening with your essence, his eyes dark with satisfaction. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand before crawling up your body, settling between your legs as he hovers over you. There’s a teasing smirk on his lips as he leans in, brushing his mouth over yours.

“Told you,” he murmurs against your lips, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

You don’t need to ask what he means—you can taste it for yourself as he deepens the kiss, letting you chase the sweetness lingering on his tongue. It’s intoxicating, the mix of his warmth and the remnants of your release making your head spin. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, slow and indulgent, and when he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing just as uneven as yours. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your hip, his touch gentle in contrast to everything that just happened.

“You good?” he asks softly, his voice laced with something deeper—something tender.

You nod, still catching your breath, and he smiles before pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time. “Good,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Instead of rushing right into it, Chris takes his time. His lips press gentle kisses along your collarbone, your shoulders, down your arms—anywhere he can reach. His hands follow the same path, fingertips tracing every inch of your skin, sending warmth through your entire body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. His gaze sweeps over you, and there’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at you, as if he can’t quite believe this is real.

His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing over your skin, his touch so delicate yet so certain. “I still can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” he admits, his voice hushed, almost as if he’s speaking to himself. “That I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, to admire you like this.”

The possessiveness in his words makes your heart stutter, but it’s not suffocating—it’s something deeper, something real. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, before finally capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow, unhurried, and filled with so much emotion that it makes your chest ache. “And I get to kiss you like this, as many times as I want.”

He shifts slightly, reaching between you both, and you hear the soft crinkle of the condom wrapper before he rolls it on. When he hovers over you again, his hands slide along your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them. But instead of rushing, he just looks at you, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“I want you to remember this,” he whispers, his thumb brushing along your hip. “I want you to know how much I want you—how much I care about you.”

There’s nothing hurried about the way he touches you, nothing rushed in the way he moves. It’s a moment he’s savoring just as much as you are. And when he finally kisses you again, it’s deep and unspoken in its meaning, telling you everything he doesn’t need to say out loud.

Chris intertwines his fingers with yours as he aligns himself with you. His movements are filled with the same tenderness that lingers in his gaze. When he finally presses his cockto your entrance, he does so with utmost care, inching inside you with a patience that makes you hold your breath.

He pauses once he’s settled deep enough within you, not wanting to hurt you. He drops his head, his forehead pressing against yours as both of you take a moment to adjust—to the feeling, to the closeness, to everything unspoken between you. His thumb brushes soothing circles over the back of your hand, a silent reassurance as he waits for you.

When you finally whisper, "More," your voice is breathy, laced with need, he nods. With another slow, measured push, he eases himself deeper, filling you completely. A low groan escapes his lips, his grip on your hands tightening just slightly.

“God... you feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice husky with restraint. His praise sends warmth through you, making your body tense in the best way. He draws back just enough before sinking into you again, his movements fluid and controlled.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as pleasure courses through you, and before you can stop yourself, your body clenches around him, the intensity overwhelming. Chris stills for a moment before chuckling softly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Already?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. His thumb brushes over your cheek as he smiles down at you, his expression both affectionate and playful. “Guess you really are getting used to me.”

Even as heat floods your face, you can’t help but melt at the way he looks at you—like he’s reveling every second of this moment with you.

Chris stills for a moment, his forehead resting lightly against yours as he breathes you in. His voice is gentle when he asks, “Do you need a moment?”

You shake your head almost immediately, fingers tightening around his. “No,” you whisper, your breath warm against his lips. “Keep going.”

His lips curve into the softest smile before he obeys, rolling his hips with slow, deliberate movements, never breaking eye contact. There’s something about the way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment, like he wants to memorize every breath, every sigh, every quiet gasp that escapes your lips.

Your hands remain intertwined, his grip firm yet reassuring, grounding you in the moment. Each measured thrust is unrushed, filled with something deeper than just desire. It’s as if he’s pouring every unspoken feeling into the way he moves, into the way he holds you, into the way he kisses your knuckles between each lingering gaze.

The world outside fades, leaving only the quiet creak of the mattress, the mingling of breaths, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. You feel everything—his touch, his presence, the emotions lingering between you.

Chris leans in, his lips brushing against your cheek before trailing down to your jaw. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with something tender.

And as he continues, keeping that slow, steady rhythm, you realize that this—being here with him, feeling this close—feels like something you never expected but something you never want to end.

This overwhelming feeling is taking over you. Your fingers tighten around Chris’s as you let out a soft, desperate whine. “Chris… I-I’m close.”

He hastily kisses you, his breath warm, his voice nothing but a soothing murmur. “It’s okay, baby,” he reassures you, his movements steady and unhurried. “Just let go.”

His words wash over you like a gentle tide, grounding you as you feel yourself unravel beneath him. But just as you’re about to fall apart, his pace never faltering, his gaze shifts—turning impossibly tender, reverent even. He looks at you as if you’re something sacred, something he never wants to let go of. His fingers squeeze yours as his lips part, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were made just for me.”

The words settle deep inside you, hitting somewhere beyond the physical, beyond the moment. And as you break apart beneath him, as he holds you through it, you realize—you’ve never felt more cherished than you do in this very moment.

Chris keeps moving, his rhythm growing more erratic as he chases his own release. His breaths turn ragged, his grip on your intertwined hands tightening as he buries his face against your neck. The warmth of his body, the way he clings to you, makes everything feel even more intimate.

And then, with a deep, shuddering groan, he finally lets go. His body tenses for a moment before he sinks into you completely, his weight pressing you into the bed as he collapses on top of you.

You wrap your arms around him instinctively, your fingers running soothingly down his back as he relishes the aftershocks of his climax. His chest rises and falls against yours, his breath warm on your skin, and for a long moment, neither of you say anything. There’s no need to—because right now, in this quiet, tangled-up moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

The slivers of sunlight shine through the cracks between the curtains. You stir awake, warmth surrounding you, and it takes you a moment to register the steady rise and fall of Chris’s breathing behind you. His strong arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you close, his body pressed flush against yours.

A slow, lazy kiss lands on your shoulder, then another, trailing up to the curve of your neck. His lips are warm, lingering, as if he’s enjoying the feel of you. His hand moves too—palming your breast with a gentle squeeze, your nipple is caught between his fingers.

You shift slightly, turning your head toward him, but before you can even murmur a good morning, he captures your lips in a deep, unhurried kiss. It’s soft at first, teasing, but then he deepens it, his fingers tightening around you as he pulls you impossibly closer. There’s a tenderness to the way he kisses you, like he’s been waiting all night for this.

As Chris finally pulls away from the kiss, his lips hover over yours, reluctant to part completely. You smile softly, your voice still laced with sleep as you murmur, “Good morning.”

He grins, pressing another quick peck to your lips before whispering, “Morning.”

For a moment, the two of you simply lay there, tangled up in each other, until a thought crosses your mind. “Should we be working today?” you ask, half-expecting him to remind you of responsibilities.

But he shakes his head, his fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns on your bare skin. “Let’s take another day off,” he suggests, his tone light, as if it’s the easiest decision in the world.

You hum in agreement, feeling no urge to argue. Just as he leans in for another kiss, you stop him with a playful, “Breakfast?”

Chris sighs dramatically, his lips curling into a smirk. “We can order it later.”

Before you can protest, his hand slips under the duvet, sliding along your thigh before gently lifting it, just enough to allow him access. A quiet giggle escapes you as you feel his morning wood nestled between your legs, his growing arousal pressing against your core.

“How did that get there?” you tease, your voice laced with amusement.

Chris chuckles, his lips brushing over yours. “It's your fault that I can't get enough of you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with affection and something more.

He kisses you again, deep and unhurried, stealing your breath and any lingering thoughts of breakfast. When he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, he grins and says, “Maybe we should take one week off instead of just one day.”

You laugh softly at his suggestion, shaking your head at his playful grin. “One week?” you echo, arching a brow.

Chris hums, nuzzling against your neck. “Mm-hmm. One whole week. Just you and me.” His voice is warm, coaxing, tempting you into believing that reality can wait just a little longer.

And maybe it can.

Because right now, wrapped up in Chris’s arms, feeling the gentle way he touches you, the lazy kisses he presses to your skin, the way his body molds so perfectly against yours—it’s a moment you don’t want to end. A feeling you don’t want to slip away.

So instead of responding, you just sigh and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his once more, hoping that if you hold on tight enough, you can make this moment last forever.

You're in the middle of typing your report when the sharp scent of nail polish fills the air. You glance to the side and see Jane casually lounging next to you, legs crossed, meticulously painting her nails a deep red.

“You know this isn’t your personal salon, right?” you say, arching a brow.

Jane smirks, blowing lightly on her freshly painted nails. “Please, I work hard. I deserve some self-care during office hours.”

Before you can argue, your phone buzzes. You pick it up, and a message from Chris flashes on the screen.

Come to my office.

You swallow, already feeling the anticipation stir in your stomach. “I have to go,” you say, standing up.

Jane doesn't even look up as she caps her nail polish bottle. “Oh, I know where you're going.” She gives you a sly smile. “And yes, please take as much time as you want.”

Heat creeps up your neck, but you don’t dignify her with a response. Instead, you roll your eyes and make your way to Chris’s office, trying not to let your mind wander about why exactly he wants to see you.

After knocking on his door, you let yourself into Chris’s office and close the door behind you. He’s at his desk, leaning back in his chair with one hand resting on the armrest, the other scrolling through something on his screen. At the sound of your footsteps, he looks up and gives you a small, knowing smile.

“Come in,” he says, motioning for you to step closer.

You do, stopping in front of his desk, hands clasped in front of you. “You called?”

Chris leans forward, elbows on the desk. “How’s the development going?”

It takes you a second to register that he’s actually asking about work. You clear your throat. “Good. We’re finalizing the flavored variants for the extra-large line.”

Chris hums, pushing back his chair and standing up. “Flavored, huh?” He takes slow steps toward the door, locking it with a quiet click before turning back to you. “Like what flavors?”

“Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate—”

Your words cut off when he suddenly closes the distance between you, his hands finding your waist, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body, the way his fingers press into your lower back, sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been working hard,” Chris murmurs, his breath fanning over your lips. “Think you deserve a little break.”

Before you can say anything, he tilts his head down and presses his lips to yours, soft yet firm, coaxing, as if he’s been waiting all day to do this. The moment you melt into the kiss, he deepens it, one hand moving up to cup the back of your head and the other hand cupping your clothed ass cheek. The locked door, the office setting, the way he holds you like he can’t get enough—it all makes your head spin.

Chris doesn’t break the kiss as he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of his desk. His hands settle on your thighs, keeping you close as he kisses you again—slow and deep, like he has all the time in the world.

Against his lips, you murmur, “Chris… we’re in the middle of work.”

He pulls back just enough to smirk at you, his eyes dark with amusement. “You can continue. I’m listening.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but the way he looks at you—completely enamored—makes it impossible to push him away. So, despite everything, you attempt to continue.

“The flavored variants… we’re still testing… different formulas,” you say, your voice slightly uneven as Chris leans in, pressing soft kisses along your jaw.

“Mhm,” he hums as he trails down to your neck, his lips warm against your skin.

“We need to make sure… the taste is pleasant without affecting…” You gasp slightly when he finds a sensitive spot on your neck and nips at it. “…the integrity of the material.”

Chris chuckles, the sound low and teasing. “Sounds like important work.”

His lips find yours again, and this time, you don’t even attempt to finish your sentence. You sigh against him, tilting your head as he deepens the kiss, his fingers gripping your hips.

At this point, work is the last thing on your mind so you wrap your arms around Chris, pulling him closer as his lips move against yours, slow and unhurried. His hands explore your waist, your back, his fingers pressing into you like he never wants to let go.

But then, the sharp ring of his landline cuts through the moment. Chris groans in frustration, ignoring it in favor of deepening the kiss, but you pull back just enough to reach for the receiver, pressing it into his hand.

He glares at the phone like it personally offended him but sighs before answering. “Chris speaking.”

Even as he listens to the voice on the other end, his hands remain on you. One slides up your thigh, slipping beneath your skirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin. Your breath hitches when he teasingly brushes where you want him the most, his fingers graze the lacey fabric of your underwear and you grip his shoulders, trying to stay composed.

Chris smirks at your reaction but lets out another sigh before responding into the phone. “Yeah. I’ll be there in ten.”

With clear reluctance, he hangs up, his fingers still tracing circles on your thigh. “I guess work wins this round,” he mutters, his gaze flickering back to your lips.

You try to catch your breath, trying to ignore the way your body still aches for his touch. “You should go.”

Chris leans in one last time, stealing a lingering kiss before finally stepping back. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

And with the way he’s looking at you, you have no doubt that he will.

You smooth down your skirt, still trying to collect yourself as you slide off his desk. "And I should get back to work," you mumble, your voice not as steady as you'd like.

Chris watches you with an amused glint in his eyes, arms crossed over his chest like he’s enjoying the effect he has on you. As you turn toward the door, he calls out, “Oh, and by the way—”

You stop on your track and glance back at him.

His smirk deepens. “We’re testing the vanilla-flavored one tonight.”

Your breath catches, heat creeping up your neck at the implication. Chris simply grins, his gaze unwavering, and you quickly turn on your heel. As you walk out of his office, you swear you can still feel his smirk lingering in the air behind you.

The workday drags on longer than usual, but eventually, it’s time to leave. As you step into the elevator, exhausted yet content, the doors begin to close—until a hand slips between them at the last second.

Chris steps inside with his usual confidence, his presence filling the small space effortlessly. Dressed in his button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, he looks every bit the professional and the man who has spent countless nights unraveling you.

He glances at you, a smirk playing at his lips. “So,” he starts, leaning against the elevator wall, “are you ready to test the vanilla-flavored one tonight?”

He then eyes your bag and grins, his dimples sunken into his cheeks. “I know the condom is there. In your bag.”

Your body betrays you before you can even form a response—cheeks heating, heart skipping, breath catching. You hate how easily he can do this to you.

Chris tilts his head, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

You look away. “No.”

He chuckles. “Liar.”

Before you can defend yourself, he moves closer, his body inches from yours. His fingers brush against your wrist, then trail up your arm, setting every nerve alight. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower, “I really like it when you get flustered.”

And then his lips are on yours—warm, slow, and deliberate. The kind of kiss that makes time irrelevant, that makes you forget you’re still in the office elevator. You sigh into it, your body melting against him as his hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer.

The soft ding of the elevator chime startles you both. The doors glide open, revealing the lobby, and Chris pulls back just enough to look at you. His hand finds yours, fingers threading together, and with a knowing smile, he simply says—

“Let’s go home.”

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moechies · 1 year ago

Note

eeee but ok what about a make out sesh with sugu that ends with him begging to finger you >.<

౨ৎ ⋆ please?! ꨄ geto suguru

sypnosis: inexperienced college students you ‘nd suguru with a mischievous pact

content warnings 𝜚 𓈒 vunerable virgin reader, no p in v, soft, messy, fingering, making out, praiseee, he cums from rubbin himself, light oral (f rec.), pet names : baby, honey doll !! !

an ♡ . . this ask omg anon u are genius . dis is absolutely so cute and ugggghhhhhh m melting <3 literally love u . i love dis ask a lot so this is a bit longer than my usual drabbles , so im makin it a fic :D enjoyyyyyy loviessss

it’s hot , sloppy , messy.

bodies pressed against each others as your guy’s lips clash feverently against each others , sloppy noises elicited from you two’s ‘practice.’

it was never supposed to go so far. it started from something so innocent yet so dirty , the two of you prompting to practice making out with eachother; every friday and saturday night in the comfort of his private dorm.

nights usually started off awkward, with you at the front of his doorstep nervously knocking at his door. he was intimidating, tall, and so handsome; everything you’d consider perfect. it made you want to shrivel and hide.

your first couple sessions consisted of awkward touches, usually his fingers hovering above your warm skin with a light shiver , staring into you for any affirmation to touch you.

“is it okay? ‘m not gonna do anythin’ weird.”

making out with him was sloppy and messy, rhythmless and random. neither of you would stop the other unless one had run out of breath , but that was the fun of it; you suppose.

“d-do you wanna keep goin’?” he pants, face awfully close to yours, not sparing another breath when you mindlessly nod. in a blink, his swollen lips are clad against yours once again.

this time , it had been no different. it had been 3 weeks after your set arrangements , and nothing had seemingly been different.

right ?

so why did it feel so much more intimate ? you try to speculate , but the man’s mouth occupies all of you. geto makes you feel so fuzzy, your body, your mind, incapable of a single coherent thought in the heat of the moment.

he wastes no time pressing your body into the soft of the mattress with his own, hand pursed into the soft pillow with intertwined fingers.

you gasp into his mouth , waiting for the moment he allows you time for a quick breather, but it never comes. instead he refuses to detach himself from you as you grow lightheaded.

“s-suguru hah— ,what’s wrong with you?”

“baby , i need y’so bad. i cant . . ”

your brow arches in confusion , but all becoming much clearer when you feel his frigid fingers dance on the band of your skimpy shorts.

“w-wait—“

”y’gonna let me touch you here?” he teases, his thumb pressing up on your clit through your shorts, right above the wet patch of your sticky cum.

“eeek — hold on, sugu !”

“please ? let me finger you baby . w’na make you feel good s’bad.”

you whimper at his offer, overwhelmed by the suddenness of his question. it had never gone this far, you had never expected it to. to say that you hoped it would happen was an understatement; you dreamt of this. truly.

his soft hands run over your soft skin, chubby lips pressing breathy kisses all over your face and neck, and overly desperate bulge lazily humping into the fat of your panty-clad pussy. it’s all too much.

“let me feel you , honey, c’mon.” he rushes, smirking into your skin with a soft kiss to your collarbone.

“o-okay, suguru !” you blurt .

he’s sighs in relief, hands wasting no time to tug off your shorts along side your panties. your sweet cunt radiates a soft heat he’s able to feel against the palm of his hand, chuckling as he watches your cunt pulse around nothing.

he’s obsessed, and he thinks it may be love . he finds himself unable to pull his eyes away from the gorgeous sight, pupils in the shape of hearts as he watches your puffy hole uncontrollably drool with pearlescent slick.

“s-stop starin’ sugu—“ you mumble, quickly bringing a hand down to cover yourself from his roaming eyes. you’re quickly stopped by his hand, never holding a chance in the first place.

“you’ve never done this before ?”

“obviously not! “ your eyes are shut tight, tears pricking at the corners and damping your lashes. you’re obviously embarrassed, and he wouldn’t have you any other way. this is perfect.

he says nothing but chuckles, flinching when you unexpectedly feel his lips against yours, one that slowly converts into something much more sensual.

you feel the pad of his thumb slide against your sticky cunt, merely pressing the tip inside to tease you. he swallows up your yelp, feeling him smile against your lips.

his pushes in half a digit, followed with short but rhythmic pumps. your cunt squelches and squeezes around him, allowing sweet honeyed moans to fall upon your lips.

“y’feel so good, feels so good doll. can’t believe y-you’ve been hidin’ this from me.” he groans.

“you’re so evil baby .”

“ff-feels s’good too, hnn—“

he curls his finger, purposely nudging against your spongy walls. you squeak, pressing against his wrists to rid his movements on your sensitive pussy.

“n-not there !”

“be still baby. let me have this, ‘s my first time too, okay?”

“w-wait—“

he kisses you again, silencing your whines. he gains speed in his movements , his free hand coming down to relief some tension for his own cock, which had been painfully strained against his boxers.

he’s sure you see him do the filthy act when your face flushes , eyes unable to meet his own as you can’t help but stare, trying your best to look away.

“y’r still so shy when my finger’s inside this pussy?”

“d-don’t say that !”

you whine. your back arches when he slips another finger in besides his first , the girth and length of both digits filling you like no other could. you’d imagine what his cock would feel like in comparison to this, but you can’t.

“d-dizzy, suguru— ‘m gonna cum, i— can’t !”

“cum doll, please, cum f’me, need it so bad..” he whines, feverently jerking at his cock as his eyes zero in on your lewd expression.

he pants with relief when he feels your cunt convulse around his slim digits, a sticky, creamy essence that coats his fingers. he pulls himself away from the mess, smearing a bit on the soft of your thigh before pressing a unmatched kiss onto your lips.

your mess coats the fat folds of your cunt, sweet pearly clit puffy and swollen, just oh, so desperate to be loved. he can tell. he leans down in between your legs before you take notice, pressing a harsh kiss against your slippery bud. one hard enough that you’re unable to push his head away with all your might, forced to lay still below him as he gently suckles on your clit and sneakily licks at your creamy mess.

he raises his head with a proud snarky grin, only to be met with a flick on the forehead and a light scolding.

he sighs, squirming uncomfortably at the noted mess in his boxers. not a word is exchanged between the two of you, only light pants that reverberate around the small of his dorm room.

“w-wanna go further ?”

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #getou x reader #jjk getou #getou suguru #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto x you #geto x y/n #getou smut #getou suguru x y/n #fanfiction♪♬♫

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months ago

Text

the butchery of the beloved, the boulder, the bimbo and the brilliant

kinktober, day twenty-five

a/n: ahhh, it's finally time to share the kinktober fic you all helped shape!! it turned out so fucking unhinged and i love it. happy halloween, folks!

polls for this fic: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

summary: “they–… they were right…” the warnings your now deceased friends had given you since the moment you got involved with the frat boy buzzed in your mind, though when they’d light-heartedly called him a psycho, you never in your wildest dreams thought that they would have been correct in their choice of words, “I can’t believe they were right…”

warnings: dark!rafe cameron x innocent!reader, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, slasher au, final girl!reader, 00’s slutty horror movie vibes, found family, nonverbal, murder, violence, blood, gore, crying, alcohol consumption, smoking, possessiveness, jealousy, mask kink, kissing, size kink, belly bulge, manhandling, dirty talk, just the tip, pussyjob, oral, spit kink, impact play, pain kink, choking, bondage, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, references to anal/painal

word count: 7400

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

It all started at a lunch table, as so many friendships do.

The first one to sit was Hana, the nurturing soul of the group who had been a genius even back then. The next to join was Brian, the blonde bombshell whose smile brightened any room he entered. Then came Oliver, the guy who at twelve years old had stood up to the bully you couldn’t face yourself and swore from that day on he’d do so for each and every one of you till the end of your days. And lastly, there was you, in many ways the glue of the little pack.

To say that the four of you were thick as thieves didn’t even begin to cover it, as you’d been there for each other in every up and down in each of your lives since adolescence. Even when your mother passed, especially when your mom passed, that’s when you truly knew that they weren’t just your pals, but your family.

“Oh wow,” you breathed as you gazed out the window to the destination you’d finally reached, “is this really your dad’s cabin?” you glanced over your shoulder at the man behind the wheel, a proud smirk ever on his lips.

“Yep,” Rafe nodded and reached down to put the car in park.

You’d met him at the beginning of this semester and it hadn’t taken you very long at all to fall embarrassingly and completely head over heels for the guy.

Though he wasn’t the first boyfriend to grow to be a part of the tight-knit clique, he hadn’t been welcomed with open arms as you remembered Jerome, Brian’s partner, had two years ago. The gentle giant of few words had melted into your dynamic so naturally that none of you remembered any longer a time before him. But it wasn’t like that this time, not with Rafe. For some reason, your friends just couldn’t warm up to the frat guy you loved so dearly.

As you heard the other car roll to a stop behind you, the vehicle where the four remaining resisted, your fingers dipped down into your pocket and fished out your phone to snap a photo of the luxurious lake house and its breathtaking views, though that’s when you noticed the lack of bars up in the upper corner of the screen.

“Oh, damn it…” you squinted down at your phone, “is there seriously no service out here?”

“Yeah, sorry I forgot to tell you,” Rafe snatched out the keys, “this place is pretty off-grid, you have to probably walk half an hour or something to get any signal.”

The dry leaves on the forest floor crunched beneath your shoes as you stepped out of the car and tipped your head back to glance up at how high the surrounding pine trees stretched up towards the cloudy sky.

As Rafe hopped up onto the wide porch and fiddled with a bundle of keys to unlock the place, your gaze kept finding him as you hung back a while and helped your friends unload their car.

“Can you all please promise to play nice this weekend?” you quietly asked them.

“Yeah,” Oliver huffed, yanking out a heavy duffle bag, “I’ll play nice if he does, which I sincerely doubt since I haven’t yet discovered one kind bone in his body.”

“Oh, come on,” you defended your beau, “he’s the one who suggested this trip so that you could all finally discover what a sweet guy he actually is,” before you all ascended the short steps and filtered into the abode.

Not soon after you all crossed the threshold, Rafe’s arms seized your waist and drew you back against him, whispering in your ear that he wanted to give you the grand tour of the house.

However, when you reached the room that was to belong to the two of you for the rest of the weekend, his ulterior motives for the journey around the cabin became crystal clear.

At first, when he wrapped his arms around you from behind as you gazed out the tall windows at the foot of the bed, a giggle bubbled in your belly as you felt his desire poke the small of your back. Though it was already during his palm’s swift voyage under the hem of your shirt and up towards your boobs that he let slip what crucial item he’d neglected to pack.

“You didn’t bring any condoms?” you twisted around to glare at the persistence that still sparkled in his eyes.

“Oh, come on, don’t let that fact spoil our fun,” he pulled you back into his arms, “don’t you want me to dick you down this weekend, huh?” he murmured in your ear.

“Well, I don’t wanna get pregnant,” you slowly pushed him back, “so it’ll just have to be another weekend.”

But then he seized your hand and brought it down to the palpable tent in his jeans, “babe, come on. Just feel how hard I am. You can’t just leave me like this, not when it’s your fault to begin with.”

Your mouth then fell open as a shy scoff rolled off your tongue, “I literally haven’t done a thing, how is it my fault?”

“Come on, don’t act like a prude,” his grip around your wrist shifted and it slid down to rub your palm against his hardness, “be a good girl and at the very least get down on your knees.”

“No,” you chuckled lightly and pushed yourself off of him enough to stumble closer towards the bedroom’s exit, “if you’re so desperate, then take care of it yourself.”

Even though winter was creeping ever nearer, each one of you still dared to go down to the lake’s small pier and soak up the mild rays of autumn sun that peeked out behind the clouds. Both Hana and Oliver even gathered enough courage to take a dip in the cool water, though weren’t successful in any of their attempts at talking the rest of you into the same.

Though when your friends in the water began to splash at one another, Oliver teasingly let some splatter upon Brian as he sat on the edge, eyes closed and face turned up towards the sky as he relaxed back against his boyfriend.

“Oh my god! Don’t!” he tensely straightened up, his tone startling Jerome enough that his palm that rested on Brian’s waist tightened, “stop! You’re giving me flashbacks to summer camp!”

As you heard your grinning friend in the lake apologise, you opened your mouth to note, “that’s right, I forgot you went to camp when we were kids.”

“Yeah, it was honestly revolting,” Brian recoiled slightly at the recollection, “mosquitoes, terrible food, even worse people. Had a big old lake just like this one,” he gestured to the surrounding landscape.

“Actually,” Rafe then spoke up, his voice booming to your ears as he sat directly behind you, his legs slotted on either side of your frame as his chin rested atop your shoulder, “this place used to be a summer camp too back when my dad bought it.”

“Really?” Hana glanced up from the water, their childish game now halted.

“Yeah, I mean,” Rafe cast a glance over his shoulder at the structures on the bank just behind him, “it had been abandoned and completely deserted for a long time, but a lot of the buildings, the main house and the shed and stuff, they’re the original cabins just renovated.”

“Your dad bought an abandoned camp?” Oliver scrunched up his face, “okay, creepy…”

“Oh, hell no, I’m out,” Brain began to unravel, “babe, if we wake up in the middle of the night to a ghost child standing at the foot of our bed, it’s your job to take care of it,” he glanced over his shoulder at Jerome, “I’m too delicate and pretty to deal with the paranormal, especially if it’s kids,” to which his boyfriend simply hummed in agreement and soothingly let his palm run down his partner’s arm.

“Oh, this place isn’t haunted,” Hana said after she’d swam up to clutch against the side of the pier, “calm down.”

“Well, you don’t know that, it might be,” the blonde man behind you shrugged, “especially with what apparently happened here back in the day…”

“What are you talking about?” you looked back at him.

“Well, back like forty years ago or something, when this was still a camp, there was this one counsellor who one day just went nuts, like snapped and murdered every single person there,” Rafe told, purposely making his tone more ominous the further into the story he got, “that’s why the place was shut down and abandoned, why no one ever wanted to return it to its former glory. It’s one of the most gruesome unsolved cases in this entire corner of the country.”

“Wait, unsolved?” Brian clutched his imaginary pearls.

“Yeah, the guy was never caught, supposably never even left these woods…” he then leaned in and attempted to truly spook you all, “at night if you listen closely, you can still hear him sharpening his blade, getting ready to hunt his next prey…”

Hana, assuming that he was only joking, let out a dry laugh to cut the tense silence that had fallen over you all, “okay, very funny, ha-ha.”

“Yeah,” you gently rubbed your boyfriend’s arm as you tried to shake the tale off of you, “let’s maybe not joke about psychopaths running around a rural area when we actually are in a rural area,” though goosebumps still pricked and tingled every inch of your skin.

“Wait, how did it go?” your giggle mingled with Oliver’s as you both leaned against the kitchen counter, nearly bumping your foreheads together from how hard you were laughing, “was it…” and you began to hum a faint melody.

“No because, remember, at the end it went,” your friend cut you off and then made his own attempt, though much more accurate than your own, causing your eyes to promptly light up with recognition before they crinkled together in laughter as he tried to hit the high note at the end.

Once the woods surrounding the cabin had succumbed to darkness, the group of you all decided to wrap the day up in a bit of merriment, going through Rafe’s father’s liquor stash and turning up the music.

During your and Oliver’s secluded moment in the kitchen away from the rest, your laughter caused you to sway even closer to one another, your palm naturally planting itself on his chest as your faces nearly touched.

Though just as the pair of you were doubled over, a figure appeared in the doorway.

“Oh,” your grin continued as you spotted your boyfriend, “hey baby,” though your laughter finally began to fade.

Staring daggers at the man beside you, Rafe then uttered coldly, “hey,” before his feet carried him straight towards you, seized your waist and twisted you away from your friend and towards himself to capture your lips.

“Okay, right,” Oliver exhaled as Rafe kept marking his territory, kissing you way more passionately than he needed to, “I’ll just see you guys back in the living room then…”

You tried to tilt away enough to utter your friend a reply, though your boyfriend didn’t allow you, only let you go once Oliver was long gone and Rafe returned to his original plan of cracking open the fridge to get a cold beer for himself.

Walking back out into the living room while your boyfriend scavenged for a bottle opener, you plopped yourself back down on the couch, on the opposite side to where Brian and Jerome were snuggled up. Next to where the lit fireplace crackled sat Oliver in a chair and not far from his feet on the fuzzy carpet rested Hana, legs crisscrossed as she held up her wine glass to stare through it.

When Rafe rejoined you all, a freshly glowing cigarette trapped between his lips as he sauntered out of the kitchen, he situated himself right beside you, making space for himself where there hadn’t really been previously. In his hand, he didn’t just balance his own drink, but also a stout glass filled with an amber liquid, one he swiftly handed off to you even though you hadn’t asked for it, yet that had still been the routine of the evening, and after the first one was sloshing on your belly, the others became harder to deny and not accidentally sip absentmindedly, especially when he’d playfully help you along by tilting the glass the remaining distance up towards your lips.

“Sweetie,” Hana soon leaned closer to utter for your ears only, “don’t you want a glass of water instead?”

Though your boyfriend beside you unfortunately overheard and grasped his cigarette between two of his longer fingers, a puff of smoke accompanying his words as he answered before you got the chance to, “she’s fine.”

From across the couch, as Hana scooted back to her spot on the carpet, having not caught the quiet interaction, Brian then suggested, “why don’t we play a game or something?”

“What, like truth or dare?” Hana leaned back against an unoccupied armchair.

“No, this isn’t a slumber party. Isn’t there like board games here?”

Brian’s glance then drifted to Rafe as he smothered his cigarette in the nearby ashtray and, without warning, pulled you into his lap and caught Oliver’s eye from across the room as he shamelessly let his hands wander across your frame.

“Uh, yeah. There should be some in the cabinet over there,” Rafe vaguely gestured before his lips began to nip at the side of your neck, making your eyes flutter and only half watched along as Brian then got up to skim through the aforementioned cupboard.

“Okay,” he glanced through the options, “there are cards, so we could play poker or something,”

“No way,” Oliver swiftly shook his head and shot a glance at Jerome’s bulky form, comfortably slumped on the couch, “I’m not repeating that fiasco again.”

“Aw,” Brian glanced back at his friend, “but it was so cute seeing my boyfriend fucking demolish you,” and Jerome, the quiet man he was, just let out a grunt in agreement.

“No, pick something else,” Oliver waved a hand.

“Well, we’ve got monopoly, scrabble, cards against humanity–, uh! There’s clue!” he excitedly picked up the box and spun around, “oh, work! Let’s play that!”

With his kisses still dancing along your skin, they then suddenly ceased as Rafe announced, “you guys go ahead, I think Y/n is ready for bed.”

Shooting a concerned glance at how your intoxicated form wobbled slightly as your boyfriend helped you up on your feet, Hana uttered, “oh, are you sure?”

“She is,” Rafe’s touch clung to you, “aren’t you babe?”

“Oh, uhm…” you hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that he mentioned it, as if he himself planted the thought in your hazy mind, all of the alcohol had in fact made you pretty sleepy, “yeah, I guess so.”

“Alright, well then,” Hana’s voice stayed slightly hesitant, “sleep tight.”

“I love you guys,” you blew the group kisses as Rafe helped you over towards the stairs.

His kisses made you even more dizzy than you already were, so when you stumbled over the threshold into your shared room, you flopped down onto the mattress, though you weren’t quite sure if you’d just fallen or if Rafe had manhandled your intoxicated and pliant frame, giving you a push before his form was atop of yours.

Though now that you were horizontal and with the weight of a frat boy squishing you further down into the bed, that was when you truly noticed just how much you’d had to drink that evening.

The room was spinning as Rafe made out with you, his palms raking across your body like a wild storm, squeezing every soft curve he could get his hands on. As one hand disappeared up your skirt, his kisses wandered down and over your throat to the bit of your chest that was exposed in the neckline of your top. Wasting no time at all, he then yanked down the hem, catching one of the cups of your bra as well as he unwrapped your tit like a present.

As his face was buried in your boobs, surely giving you hickeys from the way that he sucked at your pebbly nipple and the surrounding sensitive skin, a breathless attempt at halting his affections left your lungs, “baby–”

Though he didn’t take the whimper as you’d intended it and simply continued, “shit, you’re so fucking hot,” he yanked down the other sliver of mesh fabric covering your other boob, “god, these tits are just insane.”

Weakly, you ran your fingers through his buzzed hair and gasped as you felt his hardness grind into your covered core, “Rafe, I–”

“Yeah?” his lips began to flutter back up to your own as he let himself rock against you with more intent, “you want this big dick, huh?”

“No, we can’t, we don’t have a–”

“Oh come on, baby,” he shifted, slipping a hand down under the waistband of your skirt and into your underwear, not hesitating to sweep his fingers through your wetness and bully your little button, “I know you want to…”

“Stop, that feels too good,” you tried, but couldn’t yank his strong hand away, “you can’t–, I have to get up and brush my teeth.”

“You know, all my exes let me tap it raw,” he purred in your ear and attempted to guilt you, “why won’t you? Don’t you trust me?” his touch then suddenly disappeared, but only to tug down the zipper on the side of your short skirt.

“Of course I do, I just–”

“Then why won’t you let me make you feel good, huh?” he yanked both your skirt and panties down your legs, so fast it nearly gave you whiplash. Crawling off of your jelly-like form, he stood tall and loomed at the foot of the bed. Wasting no time, he yanked your core closer to the edge before he desperately freed his fat cock. The taps he then offered your glistening cunt, letting you reel in the weight of his length, “doesn’t that feel nice, baby?” he smirked at the way your mouth fell open, “because it sure seems like your little pussy thinks so, just look,” you followed his command and glanced down to spot how his intimidating girth nudged at your weepy petals.

Even after months of dating, you still hadn’t gotten used to the daunting size of him.

“Oh, fuck…” your brows knitted together.

“Just listen to that,” he flicked the bulbous tip through your slick folds with more vigour, causing the melody of your want to echo even louder throughout the bedroom, “you’re so fucking wet. You want it so bad…”

You then felt yourself fade away into the intoxicating sensation, letting him continue to fuck your fold and make your pussy drool even further till your eyes fluttered shut.

However, it didn’t take very long at all, through all of the hazy motions, before the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside.

“Rafe!” you gasped, eyes snapping back open as your spine lurched off the mattress just an inch.

“Fuck,” he let out a loud groan, “sorry, babe. You’re just too soaked, it slipped in,” though didn’t move at all to pull it back out, since it had secretly been completely on purpose, “christ, you’re so tight…”

As he slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, you pleaded once more, “Rafe…” quietly begging for him to take it out through the conflicting haze as the familiar sensation of him stuffing you full always shut your brain completely off.

“This doesn’t count,” he claimed as he began to move, pumping just the bulbous head of himself in and out of your little hole, “not really. I can fuck you with just the tip, right?” a few of his fingers then lowered to strum your clit and summon a loud moan from deep within your soul, “yeah, that’s what I thought…”

As he removed his fingers from your clit, he then stuffed them in your mouth, muffling your soft whimpers and letting you suck them clean of your juices. As the taste of yourself coated your tongue, your own hands came up to clutch his, holding it near as you soon let your pecks wander across his palm and even down to plant a soft kiss to the gold ring that never left his finger.

“Oh–,” a gasp then left your lungs as he suddenly pushed in a bit more of his length, “Rafe, that’s too deep,” selfishly letting himself feel more of your warmth.

“No, that’s not too deep,” he began to fuck you properly, making you lose your breath, “you wanna know what is too deep?” a purposefully harsh thrust then buried itself so far inside of you that a tingle of pain joined the pleasure, “that’s too deep,” he then retracted just a tad, though still filled you up completely with each long stroke, “this is just right.”

“We can’t–,” you foggily tried to shake your head.

“Yes, we can. Just look how good you’re taking me, baby,” the palm you’d been clutching then escaped your grasp and scooped behind your head to tilt your neck and lock it there, directing your glance down between your bodies and forcing you to spot the faint bulge that appeared at each one of his mind-melting thrusts, “you don’t wanna stop…”

Feeling that all too familiar high begin to fuzz up your periphery, you trembled, “o-oh, fuck…”

“You feel so fucking good…” he grunted as your pussy began to clench around his fat girth, “just let me use you for a bit, yeah?”

“I–, I–,” gasps of air expanded your lungs as his pace then thrust you over the edge, “holy shit…” and your cunt helplessly clambered around him.

In your orgasmic haze, Rafe then abruptly flipped you around for you to lay on your stomach, and you barely managed to process it before you felt the weight of him settle atop of you, smooshing you down into the mattress as he slid back in.

“Ah!” you yelped at the way he didn’t hold back, “Rafe, it’s too much,” not even bothering to grant you a chance to recover, but simply fucked through your soreness, “I can’t–”

“Oh, shut up, you can take it,” he growled in your ear, his feet hooking your ankles and spreading your shaky legs further for him, “take it like the good little slut you are.”

It was strange how he’d taught your body to love the pain he inflicted. Even if the source was just his god-given gift of a girth, or curse, all depending on your point of view, and not the roughness he occasionally let slip out of the dark depths he tried to hide his jagged sides in for you and you alone.

“Fuck,” you soon heard him groan as his heavy sack slapped against your cunt at each one of his furious rocks, “I’m gonna cum!”

“Pull out–,” you managed to mumble into the sheets.

“What?” he kept on pounding your poor pussy.

“Not inside,” you tilted your head a bit to beg, “please!”

“Oh my god, fine,” he then begrudgingly pulled out and with one hand flipped you back onto your stomach as the other wrapped around his cock and he began to fuck his fist. Pushing himself up onto his knees, he crawled further up your body till his thighs caged you in, denting the mattress on either side of your face. He didn’t even wait for your lips to part before he shoved his dick down your throat, making you gag as he groaned loudly above you, “fuck…” and fed you his load.

When he soon flopped down on the bed beside you, the both of you catching your breaths, you instinctively gulped down what he’d given you before you curled your frame into his side.

As he wrapped an arm beneath your head, his glance then flickered down to you as he caught your chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting you up to him before he asked, “did you swallow it?” digging his digit slightly into your skin and making you open your mouth for him, letting him discover the answer him himself, “fuck… that’s my girl…” he groaned before dipping down to kiss you.

The peck however didn’t carry on for long as his warmth then suddenly disappeared.

“Where are you going?” you watched as he got up, reaching out your arms to him in a silent plea for cuddles.

“I’m thirsty,” he zipped his pants back up, though didn’t bother with his shirt, “you just try and fall asleep, I’ll be right back.”

Flashing him a drowsy smile, “okay,” you then tug the duvet over your form and let your gaze shadow him as he made his way out of the room.

You thought you hadn’t managed to fall asleep, but evidently, you had as when the door to the room suddenly burst open, you were jolted awake, Rafe as well stirring as he was now settled behind you with an arm draped over your frame.

As three of your friends rushed to slam the door behind them, Rafe propped himself up and mumbled, “hey, what the fuck–”

But Hana then cut him off, a downright terrified look plastered not only all over her own face, but the rest as well.

“Oliver’s dead,” she uttered through the tears that thickened up her voice.

Still groggy, you slowly sat up and murmured, “what?”

Snapping her bloodshot eyes to lock with yours, she bellowed, “Oliver is fucking dead!”

As your gaze flickered over the group in search of any sign that what she claimed wasn’t true, you heard Rafe behind you exhale, “okay, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh shut up, you dick!” Brian shot back, doubled over in the corner, hyperventilating as Jerome kneeled before him, trying to calm him down.

“Hey, hey,” you gently raised up a hand, “don’t talk to him like that. What the hell do you mean Oliver is dead?”

“I mean that he’s dead as in dead, dead,” Hana explained, her words causing the world to suddenly crumble all around you, “Jerome went outside to get something from the car and found him on the porch, not moving and with his head stuck under the water in the hot tub.”

With tears now stinging the corners of your eyes, you struggled to suck in a breath of air, “what?”

“It’s that fucking ghost story you told us,” Brian panicked in the corner, “it’s real, isn’t it?”

“Okay,” Rafe uttered as the both of you leapt out of bed and scrambled to get some clothes on, “let’s all just calm down.”

“We gotta call the police,” Hana said, to which Jerome swiftly pulled out his phone, only to then curse quietly as he discovered what Brian too noticed when he glanced over his shoulder.

“Fuck, we can’t, there’s no signal!”

Hana then glanced around at everyone, “well then one of us has gotta drive and find some, right?”

“Hell no,” Brian shuttered, “if there’s some psycho out in these woods, then I’m not staying behind to get murdered. We’re all going.”

So that’s how, after you’d all scurried downstairs and filtered out through the sliding door to the porch, that you saw the truth with your own eyes.

Even though his head was obscured beneath water, the unmoving corpse of your dear friend still caught your eyes and stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh my god…” you sobbed, your blood running cold.

But before you could let your feet carry you closer to the scene of the crime, Rafe seized your arm and uttered, “baby, come on,” before pulling you along the last short distance towards the cars, “I’m sorry, but we gotta go.”

Though when you did reach the vehicles and attempted to start them, neither one of them would as they’d seemingly been tampered with, forcing the panicked lot of you all to run back inside.

“Shit…” Brian clutched onto the back of the couch in the living room for support, “what do we do now?”

“We can’t go on foot, not in the dark through this forest,” Rafe spoke, “so we gotta stay here till morning.”

Glancing around the space, Hana uttered, “then we gotta make this place safe. Lock all the doors and windows, find somewhere to hide.”

“Yeah, good idea,” your boyfriend nodded before suggesting, “let’s split up, it’ll be faster that way. Y/n with me, we’ll take that side of the house, and the rest of you stay over here.”

And before anyone could protest, he’d yanked you down a dark hallway.

You nearly stumbled twice as Rafe dragged your shaking visage through the lake house, only stopping once you’d reached a large closet.

“In here, baby,” he shoved you inside, though began to shut the door before he nuzzled himself in as well.

“No, what are you doing?” tears streaming down your face, you attempted to stop him.

Though he only halted his efforts a second, grasping your face as he uttered, “please, just stay here.”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” you clutched onto his dark t-shirt, “you can’t–”

“Babe, I can’t let anything happen to you. I can’t lose you,” he then collided his lips with your own, a sob escaping your lungs as he briefly kissed you, “please, just stay right here, hide, for me.”

Slowly, you loosened your trembling grip on his shirt and cried, “I love you.”

“I’ll be right back!” he promised before shutting the closet door and bathing you in darkness.

You had no idea how much time passed, if it was only a few seconds or hours that you stayed in the dusty and dim abyss of that closet, but then when a loud crash and a shrill scream suddenly found your ears, your shaky hand pushed the door back open.

You’d never in your life been as terrified as you were when you found yourself tip-toeing down that long, dark hallway. Though, as you sneaked past the ajar door to the study, your entire body suddenly froze up at the massacre that met you within.

Unmoving and slumped over the threshold, there lied Jerome, his face beaten to a pulp, rendering it nearly unrecognisable as blood slowly trickled into the tight curls on the top of his head.

Past where Hana was lying in the middle of the room, battered and coughing, in the corner you saw as a tall figure, masked by a dark motorcycle helmet, crouched over the still form of Brian and landed the last few blows to claim his life.

“Please,” Hana’s words were gurgled by blood as the killer slowly straightened back up. Twisting ever so slightly, the assailant plucked out one of the clubs from the gold bag that leaned against one of the tall bookcases, “just let me go,” your last living friend begged as you watched the murderer wrap his long fingers around the handle and take the few steps to where Hana lied, “just let me–”

As he took a wide swing and hit your friend right in her temple, the loud crack that echoed throughout the cabin made you shutter in terror and let out an uncontrollable scream, causing the killer’s head to snap up to spot you in the dark hallway.

For a second you both just stood there, frozen and staring at one another, like two deer in headlights. But then, as he began to move, taking his time as he stepped over the bodies littering his path, you stumbled back and collided with the wall directly behind you.

You tried to run, but even though you managed to slip out the wide glass doors and escape a good distance into the dark forest surrounding the house, the masked man still caught up to you and flung you against a tree. As he had you cornered, you felt him drag the cold tip of the golf club up your right leg and over your shuttering skin, drawing a crimson line of your beloved’s blood across your goosebump-ridden flesh.

“P-please don’t kill me, please–,” you cried, but just then, the moonlight that streamed through the dense treetops caught in a glint of gold that adorned the hand that clutched the club, a recognizable ring that caused your heart to drop.

As your eyes then flickered up to the dark helmet, that too seemed oddly familiar now that you truly looked at it.

In some sick and twisted way, you hoped that the killer had just stolen the jewellery from your boyfriend as a trophy of the night’s conquest and not the horrifying alternative.

But when you then tried to slip away and the man pushed you back, your hands defensively shot up, though only managed to knock the helmet off his head and let it tumble to the dark forest floor below, unveiling the earth-shattering truth.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, eyes wide as you now stood face to face with your boyfriend.

“Shh,” he took a step closer to you, caging you in even further, “calm down, baby. Don’t do anything stupid now.”

“They–… they were right…” the warnings your now deceased friends had given you since the moment you got involved with the frat boy buzzed in your mind, though when they’d light-heartedly called him a psycho, you never in your wildest dreams thought that they would have been correct in their choice of words, “I can’t believe they were right…”

A low sigh then escaped Rafe’s lungs.

“You really should have just stayed hidden like I told you to… I didn’t want you to find out this way… it would have been so much simpler if you’d just bought into the story I made up…”

“You killed my friends…” your chest ached with every painful gasp of air, “how–… how could you?”

“Oh, honey…” his head tilted slightly as the corners of his lips twitched, “do you really think this is my first time?”

Staring back at him in horror, you sputtered, “w-why?”

“Because of you,” he uttered as if it was obvious, “it was all for you,” his feet shifted him even closer to you, “they were a bad influence, so this was the only way.”

“They were my family!”

“They were like a poison, all of them, trying to control you, trying to take you away from me,” he inched in even closer, making you wish the harsh bark that scratched up your spine would simply open up like a portal and let you escape, “I know Hana was trying to get you to break up with me… Oliver always followed you around like a lost puppy, just hoping you’d one day spread your legs for him… and Jerome and Brian? They were just plain annoying,” his hot breath fanned across your skin as he petted the edges of your features with a knuckle of the hand clutching the golf club, “I did it all for you, for us, because I love you… fuck, you have no idea how much I fucking love you, baby…” he uttered before bringing the bud of the improvised weapon down upon the side of your head and knocking you clean out.

When you came to, the flicking light from a lit fireplace was the only source of light in the dim room you found yourself in. Arms folded up behind your head, a long rope was tangled around them and stretched up to a beam in the ceiling above. Your legs too were tied, keeping your naked frame upright and locked in place in the middle of the room.

“Fucking finally,” a low voice echoed from the chair across the chamber, causing you to wince as the tone pierced your soul and worsened your splitting headache, “you really took your sweet time waking up.”

Blinking back at your boyfriend as he leaned back in the seat, pants undone and his hard length tight in his fist, a murmur escaped your lips, “…you knocked me out…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he got up and walked towards your suspended form, “but you didn’t give me any other choice.”

As he slowly neared you, your glossy eyes flickered up to meet his.

“Rafe, please,” you heard your voice break as you tried to keep your tone soft, “you don’t have to do this. Just untie me, I promise I won’t be mad at you.”

“Oh yeah?” a small scoff slipped through his smirk.

“Yes. I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me go,” you begged, “please don’t hurt me.”

“Shh, shh,” his palm rose up to stroke your hair before letting it rush down and over the curves of your exposed body, “but you’ve been such a bad girl. I think you deserve a lesson that hurts a little bit,” his palm then slapped your pussy, still soaked and sore from earlier, rendering you to let out a shrill yelp, “it’s okay, you can cry…” he briefly leaned in to kiss your cheek before he shifted, though still staying so close that his nose ghosted along your skin as he made his way around to stand directly behind you, “you look so pretty when you do…”

You then squirmed as he reached down to grasp his cock and nudge at your sensitive entrance, “Rafe, please–, ah!” a cry then left your form as he ruthlessly rammed his way inside, plugging you up so completely that his balls nuzzled against your slick skin.

“Fuck!” his moan tickled the shell of your ear as he tangled his arms around your torso, “you’re so perfect…” he began to move, finding a selfish pace to wreck you with, “so perfect and all mine…”

As his thrusts caused your tits to jiggle, one of his wide hands soared up to grasp one while the other one snaked up to wrap around your throat. He then squeezed it fiercely enough that all your noises eventually faded away and he kept you completely quiet for a good moment before his hold slackened and he once again granted you the privilege of gasping for air.

“This is all you need, just me, only me,” he grunted, “just like this, using your pretty little hole for exactly what it was made for… you were made for me and nobody else… no one…”

His grip then drifted down to dent your hips before he lifted them, raising your bound frame till your tip toes were barely grazing the cold floor. Your back arched slightly as he repeatedly brought your hips back to him, his balls sloppily slapping against your swollen clit each time he manoeuvred your body and treated you like a toy.

When he then hooked an arm around your front to keep moving your body greedily against him, it granted the other one the grace to roam your frame freely.

As his fingers found one of your nipples in a harsh pinch, he let out a groan at the way you began to clamper down around his fat girth, “are you gonna cum, baby? Huh?” his palm then slapped your tit, “because it sure fucking feels like you’re close,” before he suddenly retracted completely, slipping out of your drooling cunt and causing a shy whimper to slip from your lips, one he swiftly cut off when he smacked your cheek, “too bad. You’re not allowed to.”

As you shakily struggled to stay on your unsteady feet, you panted, “Rafe, my legs, I can’t–”

“Oh yeah?” he mockingly pouted at you as he sauntered around to your front, “do they hurt? Are you tired?” and as you offered him a nod, his fingers grasped your chin, “well,” his thumb slowly stretched up to trace your bottom lip, “if you promise that you’ll be a good girl for me, then I’ll give you a little break.”

“Yes, I will,” a tear rolled down your still stinging cheek.

“You will what?” his palm briefly slapped the side of your face once again before returning to the same hold.

“I’ll be your good girl, I’ll do whatever you want,” you begged and as he then sank down to his knees, grabbed a pocketknife resting on a nearby table and held up his end of the bargain, slicing through the ropes at your legs and cutting them loose. A new wave of sobs tumbled out of your form, “thank you! Oh, thank you so much!”

Tossing the blade far away before he rose back up, “you’re fucking welcome, baby,” he then caught you off guard as he suddenly plucked your lower half up into his arms.

“W-wait, I thought you’d give me a break!” your legs trembled in his grasp as he slide you back onto his fat cock.

“Yeah, your legs were tired, so I’m being nice and giving them a break,” the wet claps of your skin roughly colliding once again filled the dark room, “your pussy doesn’t deserve one yet… unless of course, this is you begging me to fuck your ass…” a wicked wish that he’d been begging you for ever since the very first time he banged you.

“No! No, not there, please, I’ve never–”

“Oh, I know you haven’t,” he smirked, “that’s what makes it so much more fun…”

“Please, Rafe,” you blinked back at him, “don’t.”

“You told me I could do whatever I want…” he angled his bucks right against that spot that caused your teeth to dig into your lower lip, “you promised to be a good girl for me and just take whatever I give you…”

“I will,” your eyes couldn’t help but flutter, “just please not that.”

He then let a dollop of his spit splatter directly against your face, “alright, but only because I love you,” before he dipped down to plant a feverish kiss against your lips, “tell me that you love me too.”

“I love you,” you murmured against his mouth.

“Huh?” one of his hands let go of you and he shifted to balance you with only one, letting the other instead drift down between your forms to bully your puffy pearl, “what was that?”

“I lo–, a-ah!” you suddenly whined as he pressed one of his fingers inside your pussy, not caring in the slightest that you were already completely filled up as he forced his digit in alongside his fat cock.

“Come on, baby,” he stared down at you, “tell me you love me,” and kept up his ruthless pace as he hooked the finger inside of you, “tell your soulmate just how much you love and adore him, how you want nothing more than to worship him at his feet.”

“I–, I–, Rafe,” you gasped, feeling as if he was splitting you in half, “it’s too much–”

“No, it’s not too much, it’s exactly right, you can take it, baby.”

“I can’t–”

“I don’t fucking care,” he continued to fuck you without remorse, slamming his intimidating length so deep inside of you that you nearly couldn’t breathe, “I wanna feel you cum, just like this.”

“Rafe–”

“Do it or I’ll get a lot meaner,” he warned you before he finally got what he wanted. Your squirt drizzled down on the floor as the intensity caused a scream to erupt from your form, “there you go, fuck,” he groaned as he watched your pussy gush around his girth, “that’s it,” before the way your cunt clambered down around him caused him to let go as well, “shit,” and pump you full of his cum.

Rafe pressed a peck to your forehead before he pulled out of your warmth and you breathlessly glanced down to watch as his hot load began to leak out of your quivering hole.

“Alright, baby,” he exhaled and then uttered words that caused a shiver to trickle down your spine, “foreplay’s over. I think you’re ready for your punishment now.”

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yanadolls · 19 days ago

Text

WHEREVER YOU WANT IT, BABY I'M TAKING YOU THERE

||| FEATURING: BF NAGI SEISHIRO X FEM READER

||| 18+, MDNI ── .✦ public sex (bathroom stall), praising, size kink, petnames, cursing, unprotected sex, cumming inside, nsfw under cut

ᯓ☆

your teeth and tongue clashed with nagi's as he roughly pinned you against the stall door in the female restroom, placing one hand behind your head and the other slipping under your skirt to grab at your thigh.

you had just been on a cute mall date only 10 minutes prior to this, but you were looking a little too good for your boyfriend to handle so one thing lead to another..and here you were, making out passionately with the taller man. he hoisted you up against the door with his one large hand, holding you up with his arm; he was so effortlessly strong, and it made you wetter each time he casually flexed it. his larger body almost entirely covered yours as he pressed against you, rubbing his hand against your clothed pussy while he started trailing his kisses down your jaw and to your neck.

"so pretty, baby. gonna fuck you good."

nagi let out a deep breath as he fumbled with his pants, letting them fall down his legs and onto the floor as he pulled out his thick length, beginning to rub it against your folds. slowly, he pushed inside your tight, unprepped hole and you both groaned- his sheer size was overwhelming as it filled you up so nicely. he was just a big guy in general, but his dick? oh man, you never could get used to it.

"mmh-! it hurts, sei.." you whimpered, burying your face into his shoulder as your legs wrapped around his waist. nagi brought his mouth up to yours again and kissed you once more, trying to make you forget about the initial pain you always felt whenever you fucked. he was just too big.

"s'okay baby.. it'll be over soon. you're so wet, it's amazing being in you. so cozy and warm."

soon, nagi was harshly thrusting in and out of your puffy cunt, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. your lewd expressions were always so cute to nagi, he couldn't help but fuck you harder.

"haah..sei! f-feels so good, too good! y'so big.."

your words made nagi throb inside you. of course he was aware of his huge size, c'mon- he wasn't THAT oblivious. still, hearing you whine and cry about it boosted his pride more than he would like to admit, and only made him more motivated than before.

"maybe you're just tiny, babe. shit.. so cute and small."

nagi grunted at your sopping walls clenching so tight against his cock, hands moving to grab your thighs and push you more against the stall, thrusting up into you at a brutal pace.

"y'so loud, too. someone's gonna hear something, you know.."

"s-sorry, hah..so sorry! too much.."

"don't be sorry. lemme hear you louder."

nagi knew getting caught would be kind of a hassle since you both could get charged with, i don't know- 'public indecency'.. but who cared about that stuff anyway? surely not nagi, with the way you were moaning so sweetly and taking him so well. he adored how tiny you were compared to him, how easy you were to push into any position he liked; but most of all, the lazy genius loved watching you struggle to take his fat cock.

"ooh, sei! g'nna cum soon! aah, hahhh.."

nagi moaned lowly into your skin, heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. the sound of you being fucked so well by your boyfriend was echoing off the bathroom walls- it was lewd, and so wrong..yet, it felt so right.

"cum like a good girl f'me. love it when you make a mess."

his words made your heart and core flutter, back arching off the stall door. a creamy ring formed at the base of his cock and soon enough, you were both cumming loudly with each other, nagi shooting his load deep into your womb.

liquids leaked out of your hole and dripped from his cock, spilling onto the tiled floor beneath you both. after coming down from your orgasms, nagi slowly pulled out and set you down on your wobbly feet, grabbing some toilet paper for you both to clean up before flushing away the evidence of what happened. once nagi and you were dressed normally again, with the exception of you looking totally fucked out, you exited the stall and..

"..perverts! just wait until security hears about this!"

shit.

AN: this idea just came to me randomly.. and i love it >.< also TYSM FOR ALL THE FOLLOWERS WTFFF IM SO HAPPY HEHEHE

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shosweet · 16 days ago

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𐙚 older boyfriend!keigo picks you up after your afternoon college classes, casual clothing because he specifically told the commission he’s “off duty to pick up his darlin’ girl.”

he then picks up a hoodie and sunglasses on the way because you told him he’d cause a ruckus, fangirls and the press lining up to see him (as if his wings won’t give him away immediately).

he meets you in a small, low-populated area of campus, watching you from above as you look around for him and check your phone for any updates. once you find him, you smile and wave, keigo landing “gracefully” before you.

he gives you the biggest bear hug, wings fluttering as you tiptoe to wrap your arms around his neck.

“miss me, lovey? how was school, hm?” he asks, reaching for your bag slung loose on your shoulder. throwing it over his own, he sweetly kisses your cheeks, pestering you with more questions.

𐙚 older boyfriend!keigo who drives you around to all your favorite places. he buys you everything you want, even the ones you slightly glance at through the display window. he couldn’t care less that you love to splurge, in fact, he indulges it happily (and he’s probably worse himself).

his favorite thing to buy you though, however, are sweet treats. sitting down in a small cafe (after renting it out for just the two of you), you share a small crepe, soft wrapping and warm nutella filling with fresh strawberries and bananas enriching the sweet flavor. it’s honestly a race between who can eat more — both of you have forever-unsatisfied sweet tooths.

“i’m gonna use the bathroom real quick, don’t eat it all,” he says, placing a quick peck on your lips before dashing off. when he’s back, he’s betrayed to see the crepe gone, only a sliver left behind. he looks at the piece, your innocent little smile, and back at the piece.

“i thought i told you to save some,” he sulks, wings deflating as he pulls his chair back and slouches.

“i did! right there,” you smile, pointing to the sad little piece with some whipped cream in the corner of your mouth, cheeks full and content.

“yer tryna starve me, aren’t you,” he cries.

“you could’ve ordered two, y’know,” you giggle.

“that’s actually so smart! thank you baby, yer a genius,” he exclaims, kissing your forehead before standing up to order another (you end up eating most of the second and he orders a third to-go, planning to hide it from you in his fridge).

𐙚 older boyfriend!keigo, who loves eating meals with you anywhere. five-star michelin, fast food, take out, he absolutely adores anything.

although, one of his favorites would be at fancy restaurants. he loves seeing you get all dolled up with everything he’s spoiled you with, loves seeing your face light up at the extravagant display of the restaurant you go to. however, looking at the menu, you worry a bit.

“keigo, ‘s too expensive here…” you mumble, taking his hand across the table with brows furrowed. he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your fingers lightly.

“don’t worry about it, sweets. order anything y’like,” he replies with a sincere smile.

his #1 favorite though? cooking at home with you.

he cooks what he knows, learns new recipes, and makes all your favorite dishes without you having to ask. sitting at the island table, you watch as your head is propped on your hands, eyes never leaving his figure.

“need something?” he smirks, noticing his little one-woman audience. it’s especially bad if he wears a compression shirt with those sweats he knows drive you insane, and extremely worse when you’re ovulating.

“yer staring at me like yer gonna eat me alive,” he chuckles, placing a pan on the stove as he grabs more things from the cabinet, focus strictly on the food.

“kiss, please?” you ask, eyes wide and waiting. he only laughs, setting everything down and turning down the stove.

“tryna burn down the house now, are ya?” he jokes, walking over to you. “no matter, i have another,” he mutters before cupping your jaw. he kisses you deeply, almost as if he’s missed their touch even just a couple minutes away from them.

his hands stay on your jaw, one of yours tangling in his messy hair as the other strokes his wing. he gives a broken chuckle, pulling away.

“yer dangerous, love,” he says in a low voice. “let’s finish dinner first, yeah? after that, ‘m all yours.”

𐙚 older boyfriend!keigo who treats you like you’re his world. you’re curled up in bed, too weak and in pain to get up. keigo only gives you the space you need, checking in every now and then.

“refill your tea?” “tuck you in again?” “anything you wanna eat?” “need help going to the bathroom?”

he makes sure you’re attended to without you needing to lift a finger. even on days when he’s away, or you’re too irritable to deal with anybody, he sends a couple feathers your way. one sneaks in through the space under the door, lightly tickling your cheek.

“hi, keigo,” you groan. “i’m okay, haven’t eaten anything yet, can’t stomach anything down,” you mumble. keigo listens as he’s walking to a nearby cafe, looking for something small to satisfy you.

the feather in your bed floats away to your window, squeezing under it and pushing it open. soon after, a couple more feathers come in carrying small things keigo’s bought for you — a pastry, water, candy, a heat pack, and (ironically enough) a small plushie of him. there’s no rush, no scramble, no confusion — everything is calm and collected because keigo knows by heart how to take care of you.

the feathers place each item gently on the nightstand beside you. one more floats in with a tiny note, scribbled in keigo’s handwriting.

“rest up, love. i’ll be back again soon. i’ll keep this feather with you, let me know if you need anything. i love you! — keigo :)”

you giggle and place the note on your nightstand. the feather that brought it tickled the tip of your nose, just as keigo would kiss it before he leaves, and lays just above your head on the pillow.

“thank you, keigo,” you mumble before drifting off to sleep with a full heart. “love you, too.”

on your rooftop, he kisses the golden pendant resting on his chest, part of a matching set he’d gotten you for your anniversary.

“i love you more.” and older boyfriend!keigo always means it.

longer drabble because i need him

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auroralwriting · 11 months ago

Text

poker face

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

spencer and you go to the casino to find the unsub. you think he looks pretty hot playing poker.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: making out, gambling, poker face spencer aghhh

"Forensics got a fingerprint match on the last victim. Eddie Langdon. We're looking into him." You said as you walked back into the office that held some of your team members.

Hotch came in behind you, "Hey, any luck?" Emily asked.

"No, they don't want to allocate agency funds for the buy-in. I'm still working on it." Hotch replied, looking down to his phone as he got back on another call.

Rossi chuckled, "Well, I can't imagine why not. We're only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money so that FBI agents can play Texas hold 'em."

Emily eyed Rossi, "Hey, what about you?"

"What about me? What?"

"You could stake us the buy-in." Emily smirked.

Spencer sat down next to you, "Yeah, you're a best-selling author."

You nodded enthusiastically, "Don't forget a best-selling author and longtime FBI agent. You could loan us the money, or something."

"No," Rossi shook his head.

"Why not?" Emily frowned.

"One, it's against regulations, and I'd like to hold on to this job for a little while longer." Rossi began.

Under your breath, you muttered, "It's just a little violation, 's all."

Rossi just rolled his eyes at your comment. "And two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single-malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork."

"Poker chips are things!" JJ replied quickly with a smile.

Rossi just scoffed as Spencer spoke up again. "Maybe just think of it as like a new experience. I mean, at your age, how often does that happen?" Oh, no he didn't.

"At my what?" Rossi slowly turned his head to Spencer who just gulped and awkwardly looked away.

"Rossi, this may be our only chance to get this guy." You said slowly. "They government isn't going to give us the money. You're our only way to catch this killer. Please?" You paused for a moment. "And if it helps, you can just write a new book to get some more cha-ching."

Rossi sighed, "All right, fine. But I'm ignoring that last comment. I'm a decent poker player, but I can't promise that I can stay in the game long enough to--"

"You know what?" Emily interrupted. "I bet you're a great poker player, but what if we sent in Reid?"

"I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump because of my card-counting ability." Spencer commented as if it was the most casual thing in the whole world.

You raised your hand slightly, "Why did I not know this sooner?"

"Look, I know I'm not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not Blackjack." Rossi argued. "It's about bluffing, reading human nature, head games. It's not math."

That's when Spencer stood up, "That's not entirely accurate. There actually is a mathematical equation for knowing when to raise and when to fold. If P represents the size of the pot at the time of play, then P times N minus one, with N representing the estimated number of players in the final round of betting--"

"Okay! Fine, I surrender!" Rossi cut Spencer off quickly. "Just try not to lose all my money. Actually, you know what?" Rossi quickly spoke your name. "Take her with you, I don't want you losing all my money and if she needs to interrupt the game, then so be it."

Your eyes widened, "Rossi, I've never stepped foot into a casino in my life."

"You'll be fine!" Rossi waved it off as Spencer gave you a comforting look.

Oh, this was not what you expected at all.

Spencer and you had to get checked by security with the handheld metal detectors. Yours didn't go off, but Spencer's did. He played it off as just a pen. Thank god they accepted that.

The two of you walked in. For someone who stared at dead bodies and killers all day, this was the most nerve wracking thing you'd experienced in a while. It also didn't help that Hotch decided you and Spencer were to play a couple when you had such a big crush on him.

"Hey," Spencer muttered, "It's okay."

"Just nervous," You replied under your breath. The two of you made your way to the bar. Spencer got himself a drink, and you got some champagne. "Is it really just math?"

Spencer nodded, "Math, and a little bit of luck."

The moment you felt Spencer take your hand, you tried to pull away. "Spencer, what about germs--"

"I don't mind your germs, you're my friend. Plus, we have a part to play, remember?" Spencer muttered, locking his fingers between yours. Your heart pounded as you did the same.

"I'll observe as you play," You muttered, remembering the list of things you needed to look for to find the unsub. "I know you don't need it, but good luck."

Spencer smiled at you, the comment being just so sweet and innocent. "Thank you." You looked so nervous, so out of place. It made Spencer notice you more.

Spencer had taken a seat at a table, which you stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Your hands rested on the back of the chair. So far, no one caught your eye, until one man at another table did. Casually, you poked Spencer and he caught onto your stare.

"You know, would it be all right if I sat at table two instead of four? I have a pre-glaucoma condition and the light's kind of bothering my eyes." Spencer called over the employee, who took him to the desired table.

The men didn't just eye Spencer as he sat down, you noticed they eyed you too. Defensively, you wrapped your arms around Spencer's neck from behind. "Ah, I'm calling." One of the men said."

"I'll raise." One guy said. You stared at him, noticing his red eyes. Weird. "Eight thousand."

"Eight thousand.. That's, uh, fifty-six months wages for the average person in Bangladesh." Spencer commented casually. In reply, you giggled and played with some of hair, pushing it out of his face. Spencer hoped you didn't feel his face turn hot under your fingers. "Uh, kind of makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Hey, it's eight thou to you." One guy remarked. "Now, are you in or are you out?"

Spencer sighed, "I.. am in. And I raise."

"Three raise? That's too rich for my blood." The guy sighed. One man, the one who raised before Spencer, bored holes into him.

"Are you in, sir?" Spencer asked.

"I'll call."

"Call?"

Spencer flipped his cards, "Straight."

Based on everyone's reactions and Spencer's coy face, straight was a very good thing. Playing the act, you kissed Spencer's forehead and squealed lightly, deciding to stroke his cheek for a moment. "A gut shot straight draw? Are you kidding me?"

"That is just-- that is nuts."

It was no wonder Spencer was banned from casinos. Spencer's poker face was good. He simply just covered his mouth after a moment and stared, watching everyone's reactions. His hand slowly ran down to his chin, and in that moment, it did it for you. Sure, Spencer was your cute little nerd, but he'd never been so hot to you.

You noticed next to the man who was staring, he had an eight ball keychain. "Hey, mind if I look at this?" You asked, reaching for it.

The man was quick to grab your hand hard. Spencer jumped into action, pulling you from him.

"Hey. What's the problem, sir?" An employee asked.

"She's reaching for my chips!"

"I'm not even in the game," You remarked.

The employee grabbed your arms, "You need to come with me."

If Spencer's eyes could've gotten any wider, they would've popped out of his head. "Hey! Don't manhandle her! She can walk, let go!" Spencer ripped the mans arms off of you and pulled you into his chest. "Come on, love. Let's just go."

Spencer's words caused your chest to tingle as he guided you away. You watched as he clicked the call-device, it lit up red. The look on the mans face, your unsub, was clear. He knew.

You met up with the team as you were lead out the doors, "They're FBI agents," Hotch informed the guard.

"There he goes, plaid shirt, baseball hat." Spencer pointed.

After searching the whole casino, the unsub made a break for it. His name was Curtis Banks. You and Spencer were sent to his house to see if he was there. After a quick search, it was clear he wasn't there.

"Hey Hotch, he isn't here. There's a foreclosure sign in the lawn." You informed your chief.

"All right, you and Reid stay there in case he comes back." Hotch hung up the phone.

You shrugged to Spencer, "And we wait."

After a beat of silence, Spencer turned to you. "At the casino, you couldn't keep your hands off of me after I won." Spencer said out of nowhere. "Your physical proximity was close, you frequently stared at me--"

"I was playing my part," You argued.

"Yeah, too well." Spencer pointed out. "Were you checking me out?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, "No. Why would I do that?"

"Look at me and say it," Spencer demanded, but his tone wasn't harsh. It was simply just firm. "You won't look at me."

Slowly, you turned to look at Spencer, "I wasn't checking you out."

"You can't look me in the eyes. You've never not looked me in the eyes." Spencer continued.

"Stop profiling me," You tried to end the discussion. It was clear Spencer had caught you. You weren't interested in being turned down, especially when you were in some sort of steak-out with the genius.

Spencer frowned, "I'm not profiling you. I'm just telling you as it is."

"That's what profiling is," You countered. "We don't need to have this conversation. Was I checking you out? Yes, I was. Is that what you wanted me to say? That you looked so damn hot winning thousands of dollars with your best poker face while you let me all over you?"

Spencer said your name, but you kept rambling. It took him grabbing your chin and forcing your face closer to his to make you stop. "You think I'm hot?"

"Yeah," You stuttered. "Yeah, I do."

Slowly, Spencer trailed his finger over your bottom lip. "I always thought you were the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen."

"Where's this confidence coming from?" You asked.

Spencer shrugged, "Gamblers frequently experience a phenomenon called the 'winning high,' it releases dopamine and adrenaline, making gamblers do riskier things than they'd normally do."

"You gonna use that high to kiss me?" Your voice was a mere mutter. Your lips were just grazing Spencers.

"Is that what you want?" Spencer lowly asked.

"What do you think?" You retorted.

Spencer's lips slammed onto your own, harder than you expected. His large hand had the back of your neck, and he pulled you impossibly closer. It was hot, just how you wanted it. Flimsily, Spencer reached to the bottom of his seat to scoot it back. His hands went to your hips, guiding you to move across the seats to his lap.

"You know, we're still on the lookout." You mumbled, pressing another kiss to the genius's lips.

"They haven't called us yet." Spencer challenged, hand running down your back to your waist.

Slowly, Spencer's hand began to creep up your shirt, just to your navel-level. His kisses descended to your neck, pressing opened mouth, warm kisses to your skin.

"Spence," You whined, grabbing his hair to push him closer. He sighed in reply.

You both jolted when your phone began to ring. You grabbed it quickly, "What?"

"Ooh, someone's frisky." Derek teased over the phone. "We got the guy. You two are all good to head back."

"Thanks, Morgan. See you back there." You hung up the phone, tossing it back to to your seat. "Looks like we have to wrap this up."

Spencer smirked, "We fly back in the morning. We'll find some time soon."

Spencer's words weren't a tease, they were a promise.

#doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #bau team #criminal minds fandom #dr reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader

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cythena · 1 year ago

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TOUCH ME TEASE ME FEEL ME UP

❥ — ꒰ notes ꒱ gojo, yuuji, toji, nanami x fem!reader, making out, public (yuuji), semi public (gojo, toji, nanami), cursing, tit sucking (gojo), there’s no sex but very suggestive, everyone gets cockblocked

❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱ you looked so good for them and they couldn’t resist getting their hands and lips on you

SATORU GOJO ✰ BACKSEAT

he always had ijichi take you two around. he still has no idea how he convinced ijichi to drive you both around. satoru decided to take you on a date to a high class sushi restaurant in the city. you deserved it after the stressful mission you had. so you dressed up. you wore a tight deep blue dress (that he bought for you) and these black heels. he loved the way your legs looked in heels. they shaped your body nicely.

as you walked into the restaurant, he rested his hand on your back right before your ass curved. he couldn’t resist touching you when you looked so perfect. when you sat in front of him he admired your chest and collarbone adorned by the jewelry he gifted you. seeing you made the strongest’s ego swell up even more.

on your way back to the car ijichi texted satoru he would be back to the car in a minute and he didn’t mind at all. he didn’t tell you but he did start rushing you to the car just a little. when you were in your seat he pounced.

he protected your head from hitting the window with his hand. his body crawled on top of you and caged you in. he rubbed his hands against your thighs to pull your dress above your hips. you pushed his head harder against your collarbone. he sucked harshly at your skin until he was confident you had a dark purple bruise. “oh! s-satoru! ijichi-”

“isn’t here right now,” he cut you off and pressed another kiss to your lips. he moved to pull the top of your dress down. now he could see your braless tits. he slurped your nipples obnoxiously loud. “you just look so fucking sexy right now. i’ve been so hot for you since i saw you.”

you whined at his words. he sat up and pulled you down to lie flat on the seat. he lifted your ankle onto his shoulder. his lips focused on kissing your soft ankle and higher. your tits were covered in bite marks illuminated by the moonlight flowing into the car. satoru rubbed two fingers right against your clit through your thin panties.

“you wearin’ a thong?” he teased. you nodded with a loud moan when he squeezed your skin. he shifted his arm underneath your waist to flip you over. “shit- ‘ve gotta see that.”

suddenly someone cleared their throat. satoru languidly pulled himself away from you. his fingers still rubbed at your slit. you scrambled to fix your appearance. in the rear view mirror ijichi’s glasses reflected. you shamefully pulled your dress up and smoothed out the bottom.

“these tinted windows shouldn’t be abused,” the driver muttered to satoru. you could only wished to be as shameless as your boyfriend.

YUUJI ITADORI✰ BEACH

yuuji loved the beach. there was only one thing he loved more, your ass. so imagine his delight when getting to combine his two favorite things. nobara was a genius for planning this day. you had on a cute pink bikini. he remembers you picking it and showing him. it looked pretty online but he didn’t imagine it could look so perfect on you.

the small cups hugged your boobs to your chest and at first you had on the matching beach skirt. he held your hand while you walked to a nice secluded spot to hold for you and your friends. when your spot was ready, you untied the knot at the side and let the skirt fall.

yuuji was looking through your bag for sunscreen at the time. you were facing the ocean while talking to him. when he looked up he caught a beautiful sight of you. your skin was barely covered, it was so delicious to look at. it glimmered in the sun too. he could’ve sworn his mouth was watering. you turned around when he didn’t respond to your question.

“c’mere baby, real quick,” he murmured in a trance. he pulled you onto his lap. his hands played with your ass, fondling and squishing it. your tits were right in front his face too. “you look so pretty, my pretty girl right.” he said with a kiss to your shoulder.

he kissed up your neck and onto your lips. you held the sides of his face as your tongues met. your cunt rubbed against his crotch. he groaned into your mouth. your tongues swirled around each other’s.

“yuuj, calm down,” you giggled. he only pouted and leaned back in to kiss you. you didn’t resist him. your nails tickled his scalp from his undercut. he cock pressed through his shorts. he brought his hand to play with your boob from underneath the thin layer of your top. he pinched and toyed with your nipple.

“‘m sorry baby, your lips taste good. i can’t help it.” his cheeks flushed furiously. your head fell back in a laugh. you kissed his cheeks and stroked his hair. he tasted your strawberry lips again. they were so soft and delicious against his own.

“looking hot y/n! i missed you!” you turned around to see nobara, maki, and megumi walking over. yuuji’s mood deflated now. he hugged you to his chest until you eventually freed yourself to say hi. he laid back on the chair with a towel obviously laid on his lap.

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✰ ELEVATOR

getting toji out of the house was a struggle. he didn’t want to get dressed and go to your friend’s party. the entire time you were doing your makeup and getting dressed, he was right behind you pawing at your hips.

you were grateful you made it into the building. your friend rented out a penthouse for her birthday. you stared at the buttons on the wall to the elevator.

“didn’t even know they made buildings this damn tall,” your boyfriend grumbled as he tugged on his collar. you looked at the mirror next to you — bending over to reapply your lipgloss. when toji turned to see what you were doing his eyes immediately fell to your ass sticking out for him.

his hand flew to grab a handful. the impact jutted to you forward a bit and you smeared your lipgloss. angrily, you stood back up about to reprimand him when he shoved you against the mirror. your lip gloss tube clattered to the ground.

his hands swooped your wrists together above your head. one hand locked them together while the other took advantage of the full access to your body. he nipped at your neck, exposed collarbone, and took his time in between your breasts.

“look so good, gotta mark ya up, make sure no man looks at you.”

“toji! control yourself!” you whined. he played with your thighs. his tongue licked a wide stripe back up your neck.

“mad i fucked up your lips?” he taunted. your leg wrapped around his waist, shifting your dress higher. the mirror revealed your lacy black panties that you were saving for him for after the party. you nodded with your lip stuck between your teeth. “poor baby.” he pecked your lips and wiped away the wine colored smudge. his husky voiced whispered, “i’m gonna ruin your whole look.”

the elevator dinged once before both doors began sliding open. toji loosened his grip for a second giving you the chance to push him off. you swiped your lip gloss from the ground and frantically reapplied it while toji fixed your dress. as soon as the doors on either side of you were exposed to the crowd of people.

you hurried to greet your friend with a nervous smile. your hands still smoothed out any wrinkles he left. toji followed behind you, blocking out the bit of your ass left hanging out just for him to see.

KENTO NANAMI ✰ OFFICE

kento was so proud of you for getting a promotion. now you got a new office that needed to be moved into. he offered his assistance to move your boxes into the new place. it wasn’t hard but he just wanted to spend some more time with you.

“you look so gorgeous, princess. i’m very proud of you,” he praised you. he picked you up and spun you around. you giggled once he put you down on your desk. he stroked the side of your cheek. you leaned into his touch.

“thank you, baby.” now kento considered himself a higher class man. he would never act on his perverted thoughts but when he looked down, the button on your blouse was open. multiple actually. enough for the plum colored lace of your bra to peek out.

he checked the time. it was about to be your lunch break. your body relaxed in his arms while he kissed up your neck. he kissed your ear and jawline.

“mhm. what’s gotten into you kento?” you sighed. your hand rested in his hair as he worked around your face. your eyes shut to intensify the feeling of his warm lips on your body. his thumbs stroked the dimples of your back.

“you smell good. do you have time?” he asked already knowing your answer. you followed his steps and checked your clock. he pulled away to look into your deep eyes. you gave him a nod and he reflected your mischievous glint in your eyes and smile.

he helped you to your back and rocked against you. he shoved his suit jacket off, disregarding where it landed. your buttons flew open, displaying your bra. he kissed them before his hands could meet them. your legs wrapped around his waist as your pencil skirt rose. he rubbed your thighs and snapped the strap of your garters against them.

“kento… ‘ts good, feels good,” you purred. he breathed in the alluring scent of your perfume. he’d have to buy you more. it had him rutting against you desperately. he grunted into your skin.

he locked hands with you against your desk. he wrapped the side of your panties around one knuckle to pull it down. he just needed to hear more of you. he had to hear you beg for more of him.

a rhythmic tapping sound echoed in the room. it only hit twice before kento was off of you and pulling your panties up and skirt down. you worked quickly to button up your shirt again.

“just a moment,” you called with a shaky voice. he smoothed out your hair and fixed any details you might’ve missed. “come in!”

the new intern walked in with some papers for you. his eyes flashed around the room nervously. they landed on kento, his slightly wrinkled shirt and gray pants. then they landed on the matching gray suit jacket in the corner.

— © cythena 2024. do not share on tiktok, plagiarize, repost on other platforms, copy, or translate.

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minswriting · 1 year ago

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No Higher Being Than You - Spencer Reid x Reader

about: for all my girlies who love munch spencer, here is a one shot about spencer worshipping you like you’re a god

warnings: NSFW content, minors do not interact, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, religious comparisons, not an accurate depiction of religion whatsoever.

word count: 0.6k

Ever since Spencer was a young boy, he had never really believed in a higher power. His mother was a paranoid schizophrenic and his father was never really around. Religion was never a topic of his childhood. How could it be? Spencer had to raise himself. And by doing so, he read many books, one of them including the Bible. When he read the Bible, he didn’t believe any of it to be true. It was all fictitious, nothing of real value that could explain how the world came to be. The scientific theories about the world had always made much more sense than a silly book. So it was safe to say that religion was not something Spencer believed in. He was a man of science.

Until he met you.

When you had walked into the coffee shop that Spencer frequently went to before work, he was completely mesmerized. The Boy Genius didn’t care for beauty most of the time. He wasn’t really too interested in people as a whole until he had met Maeve. But as he saw you, took in your appearance, he couldn’t help but thank the Lord above for blessing him with such a sight. And he had thanked the Lord once more when you had given him your number that exact day.

And ever since then, the two of you had clicked.

Not only were you the most beautiful person Spencer had ever laid eyes upon, you were the kindest and sweetest person ever. Your smile radiated the room each time you walked in, your laugh was music to Spencer’s ears. You were a mixture of funny, sarcastic, intelligent. You truly were a divine being. Spencer was completely and utterly enamored by you. He never failed to make sure you were shown just how much he adored you. Especially right now.

Spencer’s tongue lapped around your cunt, taking in the sweet essence that were your juices. You tasted magical as though derived from the Garden of Eden. The forbidden fruit that was worth every drop. Spencer took his time eating you out, savoring each and every moment. His nose rubbed against your clit as he tongued your hole. If premarital coitus were truly a sin, God wouldn’t have made it so lovely.

You were whining and moaning beneath him, your hand tugging his brown curls. Your sounds were beautiful, everything Spencer could’ve dreamed of. The hitch of your breath, the arching of your back, the curling of your toes, all because of Spencer’s touch. It was a blessing to be with you and his reward was making you feel good in any way he could.

“S-Spencer!” You moaned, tugging at his hair.

Spencer replied with a moan, burying his face deeper into your cunt. The vibrations of his voice sent tingles into your pussy, causing you to whine in pleasure. He moved his mouth to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around the nub. You let out a high pitched moan, relishing in the pleasures Spencer was giving you. And Spencer could tell just how close you were.

You were his muse, his higher being. If God were real, you were it. You were the divine entity from the Heavens, blessing the Earth with every fiber in your being. When you came, thighs clenching around Spencer’s face, he felt praised by the skies. And he didn’t stop there. He made sure to make you cum multiple times.

Spencer Reid isn’t a religious man. But meeting you had given him a new meaning of religion. You were his higher being, his one true God to worship. And you absolutely knew it.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions #spencer criminal minds

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augustjoy · 5 months ago

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Corruption

Based on the following ask: Aaron with the youngest and newest member of the bau, taking her virginity in his office after hours, corrupting her in the most unprofessional way but praising her for being such a quick learner – I kind of went genius, girly-girl, virgin reader…but enjoy!!!

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

SMUT

Word count: 1772

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is early 20’s), explicit language, virgin reader, she’s also a genius and kind of a girly-girl, naïve reader, slight d/s dynamic, soft dom Hotch, corruption kink, lots of praise, use of sir, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than female anatomy, use of pet names, fingering, semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this), choking, pure filth tbh…let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

It wasn’t the right time. That is what you said, time and time again, but then the right time never really came. First it was the high school boys were all too immature, then the college guys are all too pushy and unserious…and let’s face it, the guys in the FBI academy, well they were all too horny and desperate. So, you put all your focus into your studies and hard work. Who needed sex when you were achieving success at such a young age.

You were the youngest ever agent to join the BAU, even more so than Spencer. You’d been so motivated in school that you had dual majored during both your bachelor’s and master’s programs, finishing them in record time and completing your PHD while in the academy.

When you sauntered into Aaron’s office that day, trailing behind the director, he thought perhaps you were Cruz’s new assistant. With your tight little skirt and your long-painted nails, there was no way a sweet thing like you could be his new field agent.

Until you were.

“Hotchner, here is your latest recruit!” Cruz announced. “Be nice, she’s here to stay.”

You stepped forward and offered your hand to shake, quietly introducing yourself. Aaron took your hand, shaking it firmly before releasing it and gesturing for you to take a seat.

“You’re not at all what I was expecting.” He began.

“I hear that a lot. I don’t think people expect someone as accomplished as me to look this way.” You shift your gaze downward.

“How do you mean?” Aaron inquired.

“I just mean, I think people expect me to be a stereotypical nerd, seeing as I put my education first for so long. I don’t think they expect me to have put so much effort into my appearance as well.” You shrug.

Aaron was rendered speechless. You were right, when he had seen your long list of accomplishments, he was picturing someone a little more like Reid. Not a bombshell in a light pink blouse, tight skirt, heels and long pink fingernails.

And thus began Aaron babying you. He did everything in his power to keep you safe…which was becoming increasingly difficult as you continued to prove how qualified you were for this team.

He had been devastated when you’d been hurt the first time. It had been a slash of a knife to the shoulder, you’d ducked just in time to avoid your face. Aaron had been quick and pretty rough when taking that particular unsub down.

So, you see, it had been months like this and while…things were good, Aaron was overbearing, you were more than capable of holding your own and you didn’t understand why he was treating you this way.

That’s why you confronted him.

“Okay Hotch, what’s your problem?” You asked, entering his office unannounced.

“Excuse me?” He questioned you as you closed the door behind you and made yourself comfortable in the chair across from him.

“You know full well that I am capable of doing this job, so why do you purposefully hold me back?”

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to protect you.” He justified.

“I don’t need you to protect me though.” You huffed.

“The fact that you think that only proves how innocent you are.”

“I – I’m not innocent.” You shook your head.

Aaron clicked his tongue, standing to walk behind you, letting his hands graze your shoulders gently. He leaned down, his warm breath hugging the shell of your ear, whispering.

“I think you are…but you don’t want to be.”

You shivered, leaning into his touch. “I don’t.” You breathed.

“You want to be bad, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You gasped.

“Then be bad sweetheart.”

Aaron walked over to ensure the bullpen was clear. He then locked his office door and pulled the blinds closed. He returned to his seat behind his desk, sitting and then wiggling his finger at you, signaling for you to come to him.

You stood and tentatively made your way around his desk, stopping just short of being in front of him. He took your hand and gently pulled you to stand between his legs. His hands slid down your sides, stopping at the outer part of your knees, tapping softly.

You looked at him with confusion…unsure of what it was he was asking you. Your confusion was answered when you saw the look in his eyes. You slowly dropped to your knees, your palms resting on his thighs.

“God, you’re like a vision. So sweet, on your knees for me.” Aaron caressed your cheek.

You reached for his belt, pulling it open, while he let his hand tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. Your mouth fell open in a gasp, his pupils were blown, full of lust. He let his thumb slip into your mouth, groaning at the sight of you.

You continued to work his dress slacks open, desperately trying to free his cock now. You were more than ready to have him in your mouth…but your nerves began to creep in. Aaron, ever the profiler, knew immediately.

“You’re doing great baby. I’ll walk you through it, don’t worry.”

You wrapped your hand around him, your fingers just barely out of reach of your thumb. As if that wasn’t enough, his length was quite shocking as well. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to take all of him, but you wanted to try.

“What if I…I mean – I want to be good.” You stuttered. “For you.”

Aaron groaned “You’re going to be amazing, sweet girl. Just start slow, it’ll come naturally.”

So, you did. Hesitantly at first, taking just his tip in your mouth, then moving down little by little. And judging by the sounds Aaron was making, you knew you were doing okay. You continued bobbing your head up and down, hallowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the tip, letting Aaron’s grunts drive your movements.

Aaron gently pulls you off of him, helping you back to your feet before lifting you onto his desk. He stood, invading your space, your gaze shifts upwards to meet his…you just knew you looked completely wrecked for him.

Aaron leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss. He nipped at your lower lip, eliciting a gasp from you. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek and the other sliding under your skirt.

It wasn’t until his fingers grazed the front of your panties that you whined, practically begging for him to do more.

“Please…”

“Please what?” He teased.

“Please sir. Touch me.” You huffed.

Aaron groaned at the name and allowed his fingers to move passed your panties, pressing them through your slick folds. Your hands moved behind you, palms down, holding yourself up. Your head fell back and before long, Aaron’s fingers were thrusting into you. He kept a steady pace, not wanting to work you up too much before he got the chance to fuck you.

“Ugh, God yes. I-it feels s-so good.” You moaned.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good for me. Take it like a good girl.” He praised.

Your hips were chasing his every thrust, begging for your release. He pressed further, the heel of his palm adding a delicious pressure to your clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge.

“Please Aaron, I’m so close.” You begged.

“Not yet sweet girl, I want to feel you cum around my cock.” He nipped your earlobe.

Aaron pulled his fingers from your heat, taking a step back, he pulled you with him and spun you around, pressing your front into his desk. His hands slid under your skirt and pulled your panties down.

“Aaron…I-I’ve never done this before.”

“I know baby girl, it’s okay. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

You arched back into his touch; your body was shaking with anticipation. Aaron leaned down and pressed a kiss to your shoulder before he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance.

“You ready for me honey?”

“God yes.”

With that, he pressed forward, fully sliding his cock into you. You cried out and he did his best to soothe you, wiping the tear from your cheek. His movement caused you to let out a sharp hiss.

“You alright sweetheart?”

You nodded, reaching behind you to grab at any part of him you could reach. He placed his hand into your grasp and held still, wanting to let you adjust to him properly. After a few moments, you pressed yourself back, testing the waters to see if the pain had subsided. Aaron quickly caught on to your motion and all hell broke loose.

Aaron’s hips snapped into yours over and over, he had your arms pinned behind you as he held you down against his desk for leverage. You were a mess beneath him, tears and mascara running down your face, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your hair fallen completely out of your neat hairstyle. Deep grunts and soft cries filled the room as you both neared your peak. He had you falling apart completely, surely ruining you for any other man.

“It’s like this pussy was made for me sweetheart; she’s gripping me so tight.”

“Oh my god Aaron, I-I think, I’m close.” You cried.

“That’s it honey, cum for me.”

Your orgasm took over as your entire body shook. Your screams could be heard all throughout the office. Aaron shifted his hands, so they gripped your shoulders, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, desperately chasing his end.

With a few final thrusts, Aaron let out a low growl, filling you with his hot seed. You could feel it dripping out of you with every lazy thrust. When he finally stilled, he leaned down over you, pressing kisses to your neck, whispering praise of how well you did for your first time and how he couldn’t wait to ruin you again and again.

Aaron slipped out of you with a hiss and tucked himself back into his slacks. He pulled you up and turned you around, helping you back into your panties and pressing his hand to your core.

“I want you to hold it in sweet girl. Because when I get you home, I’m gonna fuck it back into you.” He pressed his lips to yours once more.

You met him with the same amount of passion, only pulling away when he did.

“So…what does this mean?” Your glassy eyes met his.

“You’re mine baby. Forever.”

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

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januaryembrs · 1 year ago

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SWEET AND RIGHT AND MERCIFUL | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says: OMGGGG EM CONGRATS ON 3K !!! soooo deserved and i’m so so happy for you!!! please may i request tea for sunshine!reader 🥹🩷 maybe the moment when she realises just how much she likes him (perhaps she was in heavy denial beforehand)? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOUUUUU 🩷🩷🩷

description: The Sunshine rookie Spencer had heard so much about is the first one to make him laugh since he got out of prison.

length: 4.1k

warnings: Lucky Strikes episode, talks of humans eating humans, cm gore, blood, violence etc. UnSub gets creepy with reader. sex jokes, spitting water.

author's note: dedicated to @avis-writeshq because she is my GIRL when it comes to Spencer Reid x Sunshine brain rot, and also because she requested a Drabble for them but I couldn't stop writing and here we are with a full ficlet.

It had been three weeks, three painfully long weeks since Spencer Reid had returned to the BAU, nearly ten years since she’d seen him lecturing at Pennsylvania. He looked different, but then Emily had said quite literally on her second day that their endgame was getting him out of prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and it seemed only natural that being a fed in a foreign jail would knock someone around.

She’d been too nervous to speak to him on their first day working together, had stuck to Luke’s side like glue because he was closest in age to her and he didn’t seem to mind the way she could speak a hundred miles per hour. They had only really had any contact when she was chatting with Garcia in the kitchenette at lunch, when she was talking to the tech whizz about the crochet set she’d bought even though she couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the way everything bobbed and weaved and bobbed again, and how the woman on youtube seemed to make the tiny bumblebee seem so achievable while hers looked like a yellow turd.

He’d come up behind the two of them, his footsteps deadly silent despite the fact he had sneakers on, and she wouldn’t have even known he was there had Penelope not lit up with glee at seeing Reid poking around their office again.

“Coffee, honey?” Penelope asked, looking over the girl’s shoulder, and it was only when he murmured a ‘mhm’ that the rookie noticed he’d crept up behind her, leaning over to grab his mug from the cupboard, and she hopped to the side immediately.

“S-sorry, just shove me out the way next time, my mom says I have zero spacial awareness.” She said with a nervous laugh, and he didn’t seem to care as he granted her a small glance, pushing the button on the coffee machine and clunking his mug beneath the tap.

“Have you met our newbie, Spence?” Penelope asked, friendly as ever even though the women caught the way his jaw seemed to feather with clenched muscle, like he was holding himself back from snapping, and his eyes were tired as he looked over at Garcia, barely flicking his gaze to the new face despite her prompt, “This is Y/N, she’s joined us from cold cases,”

“Hi,” The woman chirped with a quick wave, despite the fact he was stood only a foot away from her, “It’s nice to meet you after everyone’s spoken so highly about you, Penny said you like invented the term genius,”

Spencer pursed his lips, trying not to make a backhanded comment about how dumb that sounded because of course he didn’t invent it, of course it was coined in the mid seventeenth century from the latin gignere to mean ‘exceptional natural ability’, and the last time he checked he wasn’t even born then. But he stopped himself, because she was just being nice, and it wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t been sleeping or that he couldn’t eat dinner without waiting to hear a buzzer go off to let him know when it was meal time, and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she was just a few decibels too loud with her cheerful tone and smile that he could hear in every syllable.

So he just gave her an awkward smile, and an acknowledging nod, the whir of effort from the coffee machine slowing down as his drink finished pouring, and he grabbed his mug, not even caring that the ceramic scolded his fingertips because he’d felt so much worse before and gotten through it.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” He said coldly, not returning the sentiment, and he’d turned before he could see the way her smile dropped, her brows creasing in worry as she watched him head back towards his desk.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked with a small voice, and Penelope wrapped an arm around her shoulder giving her a kind squeeze and a sad smile.

“It’s not you, sweetie, he’s just-” Garcia swallowed, her own pout growing over her red painted lips, “He’s not like the Reid we used to know, he’s struggling,”

And so she nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek with a frown. It felt silly to have her feelings hurt, except she’d been thinking about the day two agents from the BAU came to give her sociology class a talk on geographical and societal factors compelling crime, how she’d headed straight to her tutor that evening to swap her major to criminology. Because she’d hung on every word Agent Hotchner and Agent Reid had said, which definitely had nothing to do with the fact the younger of the two was so dreamy in his glasses and tweed jacket.

She’d been excited to meet him again after nearly ten years, maybe even thank him for changing the trajectory of her entire life. He was still handsome, and despite the fact she’d grown up since then, had only thought about him as that hot guy who gave a lecture in her class that one time, she still had felt that silly fluttering feeling in her chest the second she saw him talking with Emily in her office the morning he got back.

And he’d look at her like she was a girl scout selling cookies; a passing face, a summer temp, no one worth getting to know.

She pretended like she wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed, he’d been to prison for god sake. The guy had bigger problems than a little nobody girl from another department.

Things weren’t much better the day they got the case.

“You might want to cover your eyes for this bit, my little sugar plum,” Penelope said, looking at the rookie with soft eyes, and Emily smiled at her gently, knowing the girl had a bit of an innocent streak, not completely unlike Penny when she’d started the job.

“Why? I’m sure it’s nothing-” She cut herself off when Penelope clicked onto the next page, and the image of a woman who could only be described as utterly butchered flicked onto the screen in full size, “Oh,”

“Oh, indeed, rookie,” Rossi said with a wince, looking at the mulch of blood and muscle where her legs had been removed, and her fingers severed clean off as if with a carving knife.

Luke looked up at the girl, where she’d gone a little peaky, and he patted her back gently, sliding his bottle of water over to her without a word.

“All the telltale signs are here,” JJ said on a sighed breath, images of the rest of the crime scene flicking up on the screen.

“Pentagram, legs and fingers gone,” Rossi agreed, Luke and Matt looking between the team with a questioning glance, as she downed a sip of the water.

“There’s even one neat aspect right here,” Emily said, the tip of her finger pointing to one of the pictures of the floor outside the bathroom stall where the body was found, “Her earrings and jewellery are laid out equidistant on the floor,”

“Sure as hell looks like him,” Rossi said, and she cleared her throat, looking to the older man on her left.

“Like who?” She asked, her eyes snapping to Spencer who opened his mouth to speak, which seemed to be the only time he ever did bother making conversation; when there was a body on their hands.

“Floyd Feylnn Ferrell,” He said, as if the original case had only been wrapped up last week, but then with his memory she wasn’t exactly surprised, “A psychotic cannibal who’d been killing under the radar for years,”

“He killed ten prostitutes and then moved up to low risk victims,” Prentiss added, the rookie’s eyes wide. It wasn’t anything she’d never heard of, but it never made it easier knowing something even worse was coming after the murders.

“He kept slipping through the cracks and avoiding justice so people referred to him as ‘Lucky’” JJ said, her eyes darting over the crime scene photos that seemed to take her back ten years to when they’d seen almost an identical set of photos, like Hotch was about to call ‘Wheels up in twenty’ any minute now.

Rossi sighed, looking at the younger girl who watched him wide eyed, “Have you eaten today, rookie?”

She shook her head dumbly, “Why?”

“Because the worst of it was he owned a barbeque joint,” Her face dropped even more, if that was even possible, “And he fed one of the victims to the search party,”

Her hand flew to her mouth, blinking at the seasoned agent in terror, because that was something she hadn’t ever thought would enter someone’s mind until she heard it. As simple as it sounded, for someone who had seen cases going back twenty, thirty years, some particularly heinous in nature, there were new lengths she didn’t realise a human could ever go to, let alone would.

Penelope stopped, shutting her laptop lid and glancing at JJ in a plea for help, as the thought of what had happened after the Ferrell case rushed to the front of her mind, when the guy she’d thought wanted to take her out on a date shot her.

“I have a computer…” The blonde trailed off, heading for the door to the office room with a dazed look in her eyes, and the rookie watched her leave, her neck and palms clammy as she thought about what Rossi had just said.

“I think I have a computer too-” She rushed, and she bolted from her seat before she could think of anything else, dashing after the technical analyst because she feared she was going to throw up if she didn’t get a breath of fresh air.

Spencer watched her hair swish as she scurried out the room, and he wondered how long she would last if she couldn’t stomach just a few photos. He had struggled with the gore at first, sure, but he’d never ran. Maybe he was being cruel, but he couldn’t say that a girl like her exactly fit the part of an FBI agent, she seemed… pure, like driven snow, and if anything he’d hate for the bloodied parts of their job to stain a girl so squeaky clean.

Emily nudged his shoulder, nodding towards her retreating figure when he looked up at her questioningly, “You keep an eye on her in this case. She’s still learning,”

And Spencer grit his teeth, because he hated the idea of babysitting when he had a dozen of his own problems, but he nodded indignantly.

He just hoped she didn’t make things too hard for him.

–

The door swung open behind Ferrell, the UnSub’s sister, the midday Florida heat boring down on her back, Spencer bristling at her right as Luke pocketed his badge.

And then there he was. The guy from the photo, his thick, wiry glasses exact matches to the ones he’d been wearing the day he got caught, though she supposed a mental facility didn’t exactly have funds for replacements.

“It’s no problem, Lori, I’ll speak with them,” His voice was a strong southern twang, and almost chillingly calm. His sister looked over her shoulder at him, the woman fretful as she glanced between the four agents, ten years of troubles on her shoulders. She sighed, running a hand over her neck nervously and headed back inside to be with her son, leaving them alone with their suspect on the doorstep, “You’ll have to wait, I’m on my way to church. It’s right around the corner so I’m within the thousand permitted yards from the monitoring station,”

He quickly glanced at where Matt and Luke stood behind her, the former with his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed up the thin, twiggly guy who looked like the type to live in his mother’s basement until he died, not the type to cannibalise and murder.

His eyes darted over to where Reid towered over him, familiarity flicking in his face as he looked at the agent, and he smiled slowly, like something out of a horror, the uncanny valley of a face so normal when she knew he was so sick somewhat terrifying to her. He fed one of the victims to the search party. She heard it rattling around her skull as she saw the whites of his teeth, and she imagined him ripping into her then and there, her hands shaking.

“Hey, I remember you. Where’s your friend, Agent Morgan?” Floyd said, and she felt Spencer tense up beside her, which she guessed meant it was a sore subject as she jumped into the conversation, her lips moving before she could think better of it. She’d always had a habit of talking too much when she was nervous, or to fill gaps, or when she could tell someone was uncomfortable, she’d always been told it was one of her more irksome traits.

“You wouldn’t mind if we took a look around, would you? Just while you’re gone?” She asked politely yet, for once, she regretted ever opening her mouth the second he turned his attention on her.

She felt something cold and dreadful run down her spine as he looked straight at her, his sepia eyes trailing down over her neck, running over her body and down to her hands that fidgeted at her sides.

They waited on baited breath, her stomach flipping with sickness as that manic smile drew even wider, trained solely on her, a thought privy only to himself somewhat amusing to him. She felt herself lean away without even meaning to, incidentally feeling Spencer’s arm bump into hers as she did, and the three men seemed to tense up as they watched Ferrell smell the air, savouring every second of it, his eyes blown wide with something unreadable. Lustful yet starved, like he was on a four day fast standing next to an open roast.

“You’re awful pretty for an agent,” Floyd said, that drawling accent of his turning her stomach, and his eyes trailed down over her calves, and she cursed herself for wearing a midi skirt. But she hated jeans on her thighs, hated the way Florida air clung humidly to her skin when she didn’t let it breathe, but she thought she might just hate the way his mouth filled with saliva more, “Do you like running, agent?”

“Sometimes,” She whispered, shrinking in on herself even more as he took a step out of the home.

And Spencer felt his chest drop at the sound of it. She sounded petrified. But then, he would be too if someone his size looked at him like he was a five-course banquet. And he regretted ever thinking of her as babysitting, as defective, because she was clearly trying her best, and this was where it had gotten her. Right on the UnSub’s menu.

“I bet you do a lot of running, chasing after bad guys, huh?” Floyd pushed, leering towards her with another smell of her perfume, and she could have sworn his smile only widened into something cheshire cat-esque. She nodded with a worried gulp, her breath picking up when his hand began moving up to where a rogue stray hair fell out of her bun, running over her collar bone, her heart beating so wild and heavy beneath it.

And it was enough for Spencer to act, because within the blink of an eye, he’d side stepped in front of the rookie who seemed frozen in her spot, and Floyd’s arm was shoved away where it hit Spencer’s bicep. Ferrell was forced to stop looking over her clammy skin with heavy swallows like he was imagining just how she would cut and marinate, and instead was confronted with a frown that could send any man scarpering, Spencer’s lips pressed into something furious, his shoulders seeming only more broad than they usually did when he purposely blocked Ferrell’s view from her.

“You’d better get going, Floyd,” Spencer said, his voice a deadly sort of calm, and his arm stuck out behind him to keep her where she was as he spoke, “You’re going to be late for church,”

And Floyd listened, despite his smarmy smile as he dared a look at her when he passed by, despite the fact his eyes trailed back down to her jugular like he was ready to sever it there and then to string her up and cure.

Spencer’s hand fished around his pocket, glaring at the back of Floyd’s head as he strolled down the street, tossing the keys to Alvez, “Take her back to the car, don’t let her out of your sight,”

And the two of them listened while he and Matt swept the house, because anyone would be insane not to when Spencer looked so angry he could have put a hole through Ferrell’s head without blinking an eye.

–

“Eating people, who eats people, what on earth is that all about,” She muttered, the four of them in the SUV heading back to the station. She sat at the front with Spencer where he drove because Luke and Matt were gentlemen and had offered her the extra leg room, and Spencer had zero qualms because he was under strict instruction to keep an eye on her.

She did that alot, he realised. Muttered when she was thinking about something. Where he went deadly silent when troubled, too focused on sorting through the mental files that seemed to be so resistant to organise these days, she was his entire opposite, always talking or humming a tune under her breath or playing an invisible set of piano notes on her knee, something to always keep the space filled.

He’d hated it the first few days, the sound like a blaring alarm coming from over by her desk, cutting through his limited attention span, grating on his nerves and making him have to bite his tongue to stop himself from yelling at her to shut the fuck up. But then, it wasn’t exactly personal to her, even the sound of the coffee machine had been enough to pull at his hair in frustration. At twelve years old, it spluttered and whirred and kicked back at every drink it made, every second of it winding Spencer’s patience up like a jack in the box.

But he found himself listening in on her mumbles, glancing over at how her frown screwed up her doe eyes, her lip pulling between her teeth whenever there was a tiny pause in between her words, before she started again. He’d quickly realised it was the easiest cheat in the book to know when something was bothering her, that she was so much of an open book, not at all cold and guarded like him or so many other profilers he knew, that he wouldn’t need to bother deducing her like she was his next UnSub to know what was wrong. She would just tell him as it was, wear everything vulnerable on her face.

“Something the matter?” He pressed, Luke also keeping a close watch on her from the back seat as she shook her head to herself, and her head snapped over to the driver’s side, her expression entirely caught even though she’d not exactly been subtle about her turmoil.

“M-me? “ She pointed to herself, and Spencer nodded, trying not to smile because sometimes she could be clueless, not the dumb kind but something sweet, naive, and he found himself somewhat jealous that she didn’t need to be the smartest person in the room to be worth something, she could just be herself, “Yeah, I guess I just,” She huffed, running her hands over her skirt, “I don’t get why anyone would want to eat someone else, it just-” She shivered, not in a theatrical or fake way but like a ghost had walked over her grave just thinking about Floyd smelling at her.

“Some cultures used to cannibalise other members of their society as funerary practices as early as twenty-four thousand years ago,” Spencer said, and she stopped fidgeting to listen to him, “There’s evidence that the Magdelanians in North Europe used to turn their dead’s skulls into cups they would then drink out of,”

“That I can understand, those guys were probably starving and it’s not like they can just chow down on a damn sabertooth as an easy lunch or something,” She said, and he bit his lip from stopping her to explain that the two of them were about four thousand years apart from one another, “But like, when there’s a burger king or taco bell on every corner, why are you eating women. Who eats women for breakfast lunch and dinner, like raise your hands which one of you would ever eat a woman,”

Luke sniggered, and Matt smirked at the innuendo of it, the double meaning of her words flying entirely over her head.

“I dunno, Alvez, do you like eating women?” Simmons asked, a smug grin in his words as the boys cackled childishly, and Spencer rolled his eyes with amusement.

“Pretty partial to it actually,” Luke chimed in, and she whirled in her seat to look behind her of scepticism, “How about you, Reid?”

“You guys are so weird,” She murmured, and Spencer took a quick glance off the road to see her looking entirely baffled, her feathers ruffled at the fact she was left out of the joke.

“They’re talking about oral sex,” He explained, because he remembered when that had been him for the longest time, and how it had made him feel like the butt of every punchline to not understand why everyone would smile at him knowingly, yet he found himself doing the exact same to her, his lips twitching at their corners.

Spencer watched her scoff, looking back at the two grown children in the back, “I take it back, you guys aren’t weird, your gross. Why can’t you be mature like Spencer?” She huffed, sitting back in her seat and fixing her skirt, “See if you were grownups like Agent Reid and I, you’d know the term isn’t eating a woman, it’s called focalratio,”

Matt pulled a face of confusion, flicking his eyes to her, “Isn’t that to do with a camera lens?”

“Do you mean fellatio?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest not to smirk because he didn’t want to make her feel stupid, except she just waved a hand at him.

“That’s what I said. I see why they call you Doctor Read and not Doctor Listen,” She giggled at her own words, watching the trees go by her passenger window, almost entirely oblivious to the way Spencer’s face cracked into a grin, something easy and charmed in his chest.

And for a moment, he saw exactly what Penelope had been talking about when she wouldn’t stop talking about how likeable she was and how it was harder to hate her than it was to love her.

Luke took a sip of his water, the bottle nearing the end as the Florida sun warmed it up, and he figured he might as well finish it before it became stagnant and undrinkable.

“Actually the term fellatio describes only male genitalia, the female equivalent would be cunnilingus-” Spencer explained, and he knew she was listening because he felt her eyes on the side of his face as he spoke, except he was cut off by the sound of her screaming so loud he nearly slammed on the breaks then and there.

“LUKE!” She yelled, and when Spencer looked, she had water dripping down the back of her hair, soaking her shirt to her skin, her black bra straps suddenly clear as day as they pressed against her dove white top. Alvez looked mortified, and he found himself apologising between coughs, water dribbling down his chin where he’d been so shocked to hear that word coming from Spencer’s mouth that he’d completely forgone swallowing and simply spat the whole thing out right through the gap between the headrest and the seat.

And Spencer laughed; it was quiet and foreign and nothing on the roaring cacophony coming from Matt in the back, as her and Luke descended into a squabble, her proclaiming him as a disgusting alpaca man as she tried to dry herself off with his jacket. But she caught it, the small chuckle coming from her left, and she looked at him, the sodden shirt almost forgotten when she saw him laugh.

She thought then that she wanted to make him laugh like that a million more times. And she knew she had it bad for Spencer Reid all over again.

#em’s inbox ᯓ★#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader #sunshine!reader #post prison!spencer reid x reader

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maeintree · 5 months ago

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almost doesn't count | s. reid

Summary: Spencer Reid has been crushing on you ever since you joined the BAU, and Valentine’s Day feels like the perfect time to finally ask you out Pairing: early seasons!Spencer Reid x agent!fem!Reader Word Count: -900 Author's Note: just some fillers to put something on my masterlist! and some lil lovey dovey valentine's day fics!! this is really short but i missed spencer so here ya go!

Spencer Reid had been working up the courage for weeks.

It wasn’t as if asking someone out was an impossible feat—he had recited entire passages of obscure literature from memory, broken down complex behavioral patterns in serial killers, and once even explained the mechanics of quantum entanglement to Morgan (who had promptly told him to shut up).

But somehow, walking up to you and asking you out on Valentine’s Day seemed more daunting than anything he’d ever faced before.

His crush on you had been a quiet thing at first, sneaking up on him the moment you joined the team. It started with stolen glances across the bullpen, the way your laugh made his heart stutter, and how you always listened—really listened—when he rambled. And then, before he knew it, you were in his thoughts more often than he cared to admit.

So, on Valentine’s Day, he made a decision: he was going to ask you out.

It started with a simple Valentine’s Day card. Well, simple in theory. In reality, it was an intricately folded piece of card-stock, filled with Spencer’s neat (?) but small handwriting, detailing an absurdly specific statistic about the origins of Valentine’s Day traditions.

You knew it was meant to be sweet, in his own Spencer way, but it also made your heart race in ways you weren’t prepared to admit.

Spencer, naturally, was oblivious.

“So, historically, Valentine’s Day wasn’t actually a romantic holiday,” he had begun, sitting across from you in the BAU’s break room, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater. “It originated from the Roman festival Lupercalia, which was a—uh—fertility ritual involving the sacrifice of goats and, um, the slapping of women with strips of their hides.

Which is—obviously—not romantic at all, but somewhere around the 14th century, Geoffrey Chaucer wrote ‘Parlement of Foules,’ and that’s where the association with love really started. Although there’s also speculation that St. Valentine himself was a priest who performed marriages in secret, which is why—”

You leaned forward, watching him with amusement as he continued rambling, the words spilling out at an almost frantic pace.

It was endearing, the way he talked so much when he was nervous, and you weren’t sure if he was even aware of how much he was saying at this point.

“Spencer,” you interrupted gently, resting a hand over his. “Breathe.”

He blinked rapidly, as if suddenly realizing he hadn’t taken a proper breath in minutes. “Right. Breathing. That’s—uh—important.”

His cheeks turned a shade of pink that rivaled the candy hearts Garcia had placed around the office. “What I—I mean, what I was trying to say is that I know Valentine’s Day is usually about, um, flowers and chocolates and not historical analysis, but I—uh—I wanted to give you something that—”

“That’s uniquely you?” you offered, smiling.

He exhaled, relieved. “Yes. Exactly.”

You took the card, running your fingers over the embossed edges. It was thoughtful, sweet, and—most importantly—Spencer. “I love it.”

Spencer’s face lit up in a way that made your heart stutter. But before either of you could say anything more, a loud whistle from the doorway made you both turn.

“Reid,” Morgan drawled, grinning as he sauntered in. “Did I just hear you giving a TED Talk on Valentine’s Day?”

Behind him, JJ and Emily exchanged knowing smirks, while Hotch simply raised an eyebrow in quiet amusement.

“Oh, he didn’t just give a TED Talk,” Garcia chimed in, appearing suddenly with her arms full of pink-wrapped candies. “Our resident genius just made the most adorably awkward Valentine’s confession in BAU history.”

Spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Spencer.”

And despite his embarrassment, despite the teasing, despite the overwhelming urge to disappear into the floor, Spencer smiled. Because, for once, he didn’t entirely mind being the center of attention.

It was supposed to be simple. Once everyone clocked out, he’d find you outside, ask if you wanted to get dinner—something casual, no pressure. But as he stepped outside, he saw you before he could call your name.

And he saw the man standing next to you.

Saw the way you smiled at him. Saw the way he cupped your cheek before leaning in to kiss you.

Spencer stopped in his tracks, feeling his heart plummet to his stomach. The words he had rehearsed in his head over and over evaporated into nothing.

The man pulled away, and you hugged him before stepping into a car, leaving Spencer frozen where he stood.

“Well, that sucks,” Garcia’s voice cut in, startling him. He hadn’t even noticed her walking up beside him, arms crossed as she watched the same scene unfold.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Who is he?”

Garcia tilted her head, looking at him like she was about to break bad news. “That’s her boyfriend. Aren’t they cute?”

Spencer felt something in his chest tighten, but he forced a small smile. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “They are.”

Garcia’s face softened. “Spence…”

But he was already turning back toward the parking lot, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Garcia.”

She sighed, watching him walk away, before muttering under her breath, “Okay..”

help this feels so ooc for him, i'm so used to writing cocky people.. i'm so sorry! but anyhow, likes, comments, & reposts are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #xreader #spencer #reid #reid x reader #cm

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dinogoofymutated · 1 year ago

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Hey not sure if your currently taking requests but I just wanted to I soooooo stoked that you write for Remy! I've been starved for years cuz there's like no fan fics for him😭.

anyway I was wondering if you could do like a fic or headcannon where gambit somehow got hurt on a mission and is on bed rest but is also like really horny because you wont have sex with his since hes hurt.

If not that's fine I just thought it up and thought it would be hilarious 😂. Anyway luv your work, keep it up😘

NSFW!Gambit/AFAB!Reader

MMMMMHHHMMMMMM BESTIE UR MIND. ABSOLUTE GENIUS. I hope that you don't mind I did make it NSFW there at the end but the majority is just teasing our favorite gambler. Also, This is for the folks who were also really attracted to that one scene in criminal minds with the bulletproof vest. iykyk.

TWs: teasing, sexual innuendos, explicit smut, Handjobs, Mutual masturbation, PNV sex. Raw sex. (Wrap it bf you tap it yall) Creampie. Reader written with Fem! pronouns.

"Asolutetly not." You're quick to say it. Gambit pouts as the words leave your mouth, still on the infirmary bed with all the wires and doodads still hooked up to him. He's giving you those scoundrel puppy eyes that he knows you usually give in to, but you're not willing to budge this time.

"No, Remy. I will not be-" You take a quick glance around the room, leaning in a little closer as you begin to whisper-yell at him. "-I will not be having sex with you right now!" Remy sighs in a pitiful way leaning against the headboard in your direction. You can’t begin to look him in the eyes right now, instead lightly pushing his face away from your spot, sitting close to his bed on a chair that you had moved from the corner. His pout turns into an amused smile, as he instead takes your hand in his own, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm. You try not to blush at him. You’re supposed to be standing strong, dammit!

"Come on, Chère. S' not like it's gonna make Gambit hurt any worse-” You cut him off by lightly slapping his abdomen. Remy immediately flinches, curling in on himself with a pained groan. You feel a little guilty afterward, flattening your palm to rub the area soothingly.

“Yes, it would. Remy, I could seriously hurt you. You heard beast, any vigorous activity could rip your stitches.” You say, moving to where you can sit on the bed, facing him. You cup the side of his face, gently moving stray locks out of the way. He rolls his eyes, not at you, but at the memory of the talking-to he got when he had woken up in the infirmary.

“Never stopped me before. Since I been with the X-men it’s like everythin’ become a big deal. So what if I rip a few stitches here an’ there?” Remy grumbles. You give him a stern look, before leaning in to kiss his temple. He melts into your touch.

“It is a big deal, Remy. You need to heal. End of discussion.” You say gently. Remy thinks on it for a moment, before giving you a slight smirk.

“And by “end of discussion” you really mean “Until Gambit tempts me into bed”, Right?” He says. You roll your eyes at him before standing. If that’s the attitude he’s going into these next weeks with, you know for a fact he’s going to be insufferable.

You were right. The incoming weeks were almost as much torture to you as they most definitely were to him. Wherever you went in the mansion, Gambit was sure to follow. He’d be in the kitchen while you would be cooking, unable to help due to doctor's orders, but no one ever said that he had to stay out of the kitchen. He’s come up behind you, snaking his arms around your hips as he’d “Give you pointers”. He’d lean close and whisper in your ear, sometimes giving it a nip or two. But one thing about Gambit is that every time you turned him away, or laughed at him and told him to sit down, he’d get pouty.

That was a trend that continued. He’d deliberately go out of his way to tease you, on movie night, in the library, in the showers even. And every time, despite how hot under the collar you might have been, you turned him away. The more bothered you seemed to be however, his pouts turned into smirks. Eventually, you got fed up with it. You were trying to be a good girlfriend and make sure Remy didn’t hurt himself, but if he was going to be a brat about it, you could be a brat too.

You started off a little more subtly than Remy did. Lingering touches here and there, kissing him just long enough to leave him wanting. You’d wear just a tad less clothing around him, or wear slightly lower-cut tops. You were beginning to realize just how easy it was to get him riled up.

One particular day, the tension was thick in the air, having coalesced into something barely breathable. Remy was lying back on the bed on his elbows as you redressed his wound, making sure to spread ointment onto the healing stitches and care for the skin. You frequently found yourself drawn to the sight of his lower abs, the large bruise having begun to yellow as it healed. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn't seen his skin in a while, but the sight of him had you breathing a little funny. Remy was also a little quieter than normal, unable to look away from your gentle hands as you took care of him.

Once you finished, you lingered by his side, a hand pressed against his chest. You look up to find him already watching you, but neither of you says anything. You purse your lips, debating on whether or not you’re doing what you think you’re about to do. Remy tilts his head at you questioningly. He opens his mouth to speak but fails to do so as your hand trails down to his waistband. He takes a shocked breath through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he’s looking at you again through a lustful haze.

“Thought you said-”

“Shut up.” You sigh, cutting him off. Remy smirks at you, biting his lip. You roll your eyes, caressing the crotch of his pants a few times before you begin to slip them off of him.

“Don’t get too excited.” You whisper, but really it sounds more like a needy sigh. “Just a handy, okay?” Gambit huffs a laugh at you, but doesn’t tease. He's practically bucking his hips into your hand when you finally take hold of his cock, stroking him to hardness. You can’t seem to look away from the sight, watching as his abdomen clenches with every stroke from base to tip. You twist your hand on the upstroke, listening as Remy lets out a curse and a sudden moan just as you thumb his head, collecting his abundant precum as you use it to stroke back down again.

“You’re really pent up, huh?” You ask in a heated whisper. Remy’s head is tilted back in pleasure, and he huffs in amusement as he cracks an eye open at you. His hand slides up your thigh, Your legs being pressed against each other tightly to find some friction. You gasp as he suddenly slides two of his fingers up the inside seam of your pants, and you can practically feel yourself get wetter at the touch.

“Looks like I’m not the only one.” Remy hums. You can’t seem to pull away from him as he continues to stroke you. The air is hardly breathable, and the burning in your chest and your core starts to become too hot to ignore.

“Fuck it.” You say. Remy is confused when you let go of him, only to break into a wide smile when he realizes you were beginning to strip. The shirt is first to go, before your bra, and then your jeans and underwear. Remy wolf-whistles at the sight, and you wave him off, embarrassed.

“Couldn’t stay away from the temptation of Remy LeBeau, Now could you Chère?” Remy muses. He’s such a goof. You try to hide your smile as you carefully straddle his legs, making sure to avoid his sore spots. One of his hands holds onto your upper thigh, the other making its way to your center. He strokes you languidly with his fingers before circling your slit and pushing two inside. You suck in a breath, careful to set your hands on his shoulders without putting any weight onto them.

“Looks like this pretty pussy missed me as much as I missed you,” Remy says breathlessly. His eyes flicker from your cunt up to your bare breasts, and then to your flushed face. You feel like you’re falling apart too quickly, already climbing that high as he fingers you with those hands you love so much.

“Remy,” You call for him breathlessly. “ m’ not gonna last too long.” Remy can't help himself any longer, and pulls you closer to catch you in a passionate kiss. He drags his teeth across your bottom lip, letting go of the plush skin. He doesn't withdraw his fingers until your thighs begin to shake and you start to clench down on him. You whine as he does so, barely holding your composure. Remy takes your hand off of his cock, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before gently dragging your hips further into his lap. Your mind is hazy, but you know to be careful as he lines himself up.

“If we're going to do this, we're taking it my speed, okay?” You say. Remy nods, barely taking in the information. He was ready to be inside you. After weeks of nothing- all he could think about was you. Your giggles, your smiles. Your body. The way you taste on his tongue. The feeling of your thighs clenching around his head. Remy would do anything you asked of him at this moment.

You take it slow as you lower yourself down on his cock. The stretch of him feels delicious against your inner walls. Remy leans in, kissing and sucking on your breasts as you take your time. He bottoms out with a wet sound, his hands resting against your upper thighs.

Remy curses as you begin to move, bouncing on his cock somewhat slowly. Even in the haze of your lust, you're worried about hurting him. Remy, on the other hand, doesn't share the same sentiment. His hands clench around your thighs, and when he can't seem to take the slow speed anymore, he slams you down onto him.

You gasp at the action, and apologies spill from his lips as he tilts you forward, knocking your balance so you're forced to lean onto him as he controls the pace, eagerly thrusting into your heat.

“Remy-” Your protests are cut off with a kiss as your favorite scoundrel begins to take exactly what he wants. His grunts and moans beneath you send another trickle of warmth inside of you. To be honest, seeing him take control like this was hot- almost hot enough for you to forgive the fact that he was certainly overexerting himself- but it was hard to be mad at him when he's fucking you so good.

One thing about Remy is that he's a talker in bed. If anything, you were surprised he was as “quiet” as he had been the majority of the time. But once he started to get closer to his peak, Remy began to ramble.

"You think you're smart? -Ah! Teasing me like that.. mmh… expecting me to just take it?" You're not really paying attention to his words, nodding in response while only thinking about his steady grip on your thighs and ass and the peak you're reaching so quickly. Remy squeezes you harder, almost harshly as he begins to take you faster. His hips begin to stutter, thrusts starting to do him in one by one.

Remy lets out a loud groan as he reaches his peak, burying himself deeply inside you and thumbing your clit. He continues to thrust as he helps you reach that white-hot peak of pleasure, pressing kisses to your temple as you ride it out on top of him. By the time you're both fully finished, you're panting for air. You're fully collapsed onto Remy's chest, Remy being absolutely boneless as he rests against the headboard.

“You’re such an idiot.” You say when you finally have enough sense. Remy just chuckles, continuing to press kisses to every part of your face and neck he can reach. You sigh happily as he does so, pressing some of your own kisses to his shoulder.

When you finally peel yourself off of his chest, the first thing you check in on is his bandages. You scowl when you see that they've been soaked through with sweat, but more concerning is the spot of red that has started to form. You look up at Remy with narrowed eyes, and he quickly looks down as well, before looking back up at you and simply shrugging with a gleeful smile.

“Casualty of love, Chère.”

#Sorry I actually lied by accident #But hurray! He came right on time ;)#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #gambit #gambit x reader #remy lebeau #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau smut #remy lebeau imagine #remy lebeau headcannons #x men remy lebeau #gambit smut #gambit imagine #x men gambit #x men headcannons

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likelysobbing · 29 days ago

Note

ok now listen…

KK ARNOLD + ALAM MO BA GIRL 😋😋

𖥻 BECAUSE IT’S YOU. kk arnold x reader

heavily based on ALAM MO BA GIRL - hev abi.

synopsis: kk's in a closet despite being out already, and she thinks about three things: her, you, and her and you.

notes: NONNIE YOU’RE A FUCKING GENIUS. heavily based on alam mo ba girl by hev abi; basically a song about wanting to pursue/love someone despite difficulties. also, i’m going to be honest you guys… i was indulging myself. reader’s situation is based off mine — she’s not out to her parents, but she’s out to everyone else. assume readers parents are socially dead! thanks. also, this is short because if i wrote as much as i usually do i’d end up writing 10k for a fanfic based off hev abi. i had to RESIST 💔

cw: kk and you being inlove but you mask it as just ‘liking’ eachother, reader is not out to her parents, reader is in a very complicated position, reader pursued kk over the course of five months because we lesbians are fast, this is like the most self indulgent fic i’ve ever written i am so sorry🤍

if there was anything kk was certain about, it was you.

there was no doubt about it—you were her girl. you wore her jersey, you held her hand (in public! because it’s legal now), and you even… kissed. lips locking and all that—the whole nine yards. you were kk’s girl, through and through. she’d do anything for you—she’s done it before. she slipped on mayonnaise once and actually didn’t have beef with the person who left it there accidentally (because it was you), she let you switch shoes with her (despite your slides being much less comfy than her own), hell— she even ate cold cookies because it was you that baked them. she’s done literally everything for you, and she’d do literally anything for you.

which is why she’s in the closet right now.

like, not the ‘i’m gay’ type of closet (she couldn’t hide the rainbow, even if she tried)—in an actual, sliding-door, filled-with-clothing-hangers closet. crouched between your folded stack of denim jeans and oversized t shirts (most of them were actually hers. once). she had snuck in through the window, and despite both of your attempts to be sneaky about it—your slow kissing was cut short by the shuffle of heavy footsteps you knew were your parent’s. they were too close by the time you heard them—curse kk and her tendency to make you tune out your surroundings—and so, with a few rushed and frantic whispers, you pushed her back inside the closet.

“no way you’re forcing me to un-out myself, girl…”

“kk, don’t start with me right now.”

“i’m going in, i’m going in—“

“put your hood up!” was the last thing you said to her before you closed the closet door, cheerily greeting your parent a “good moooorning!”

and kk stayed put, because she would do anything for you—

but damn, sometimes she wonders how the fuck she got here.

“kk!”

ah, you were the persistent one, she recalls; the persistent one, despite… well, the fact that you had a lot more to risk.

she remembers the first time you ever showed interest. a girl who was reportedly out to everyone but her parent/s—you were already odd in kk’s book. you just got even odd-er when you started noticing her absence.

“you know what, at the mixer, you weren’t there and i was so, like— i promise you i was concerned—“ you whined, arm hooked around her arm, thinking you were subtle in your affection. you weren’t. she heard you rambling about your ‘undying love’ for her to a friend in the back of a library, and decided to stay silent about it ever since. she could read you from a single moment of skin to skin contact. “you didn’t reply, you didn’t confirm—” you began again, and kk, despite herself, couldn’t hide the smile forming on her face at how you fussed and fretted over her. it was just a mixer— the usual ones, actually, the ones you usually went to. the ones you saw her at. “do you not want me—“ you fumbled, correcting yourself: “my company?” you pouted; a lighthearted jab that kk knew all too well to be an actual, genuine question masked as a joke.

it had been nearly five months since you met, and four of you obviously chasing after her—and… three months of her slowing down—softening up— just to let you catch up. she couldn’t, didn’t want to, run faster any time soon. she tilted her head, raising a brow at you and returning your same teasing lilt: “actually, i avoid your company.” you grinned, because you knew her well enough to know she meant the opposite.

she liked that you knew her well enough to know she meant the opposite.

she liked that you knew her.

she liked you.

she’s a sophomore, a division one athlete with multiple endorsements she can take in minutes. you’re a simple freshman getting by (trying to, atleast). there should be this unspoken gap in power between you, or atleast you feel like there should be—she’s much older, and everything she wants in terms of material goods is something she already has, or something you can not give (once again, simple freshman trying to get by). in your dreamland (read: slightly deranged fantasies; you have a big crush), you stay true to those roles—you’re just a street kid and she’s like… a foreigner, and she stops by your corner and suddenly you want her to stay in it.

it’s a bold feeling, especially since it’s not one you necessarily show. you’re not out to your parent(s)—atleast, traditionally. you haven’t told them yet. you’ve hinted at it! the rainbow seeps out on its own, or like… telepathically. you’ve come out to your parent(s) telepathically! straight up said, “hey, i’m a lesbian,” in your MIND. wow, so brave of you.

if only you could actually say it. maybe then it’d be… easier.

kk remembers a moment.

you talked about it with her, coincidentally a day before you got together.

she confronted you about it— your rather risky positions. “i’m not tryna be boastful, just… i’m kind of a big deal around here. people will talk. that talk might just get to your folks.”

she was right.

gossip spread like wildfire; didn’t stop until it got to every door step, open or not. it’d seep into every slightly open window, and yours wasn’t an exception. you could keep the relationship lowkey, if kk did accept your advances, but one wrong move? one wrong word? one second with kks arm around your waist, or your lips against her cheek or — god forbid— one syllable of endearment being uttered in public?

you’d be outed.

you stayed silent and you let that sink in.

kk remembers you chewing your lip raw and fiddling with the end of your shirt. remembers your eyes flickering between the floor and her.

you were choosing your next move.

another step forward on kks apartment floor would lead your feet to the door and make you turn the handle. it would make you leave.

kk wouldn’t be surprised if you did.

as much as she liked you, she understood the pressure better than anyone—so many eyes on your singular self? that would terrify anyone. so kk was okay.

kk was okay losing the comfortable silence, the whiny remarks you made whenever she was absent, the wave you did whenever you saw her in a room—kk was okay with losing the only person she thought truly complemented her.

kk was okay losing you, even though it hurt her head thinking about how to move on without you.

11:57 pm.

kk was okay losing you, but then you didn’t step forward. your eyes seemed to only know her. she remembers it— you took her hands in yours and caressed her knuckles with your thumb, and you kissed them gentle and soft.

“I don’t want to let you go.” you begin, and kk chokes.

11:58 pm.

“everything that i have been looking for, i’ve found in you, and i know i can’t give you a lot because you practically have it all—“ you ramble, squeezing her hands tighter but you are still so impossibly soft, and kk swears she can’t breathe.

11:59 pm.

“but i hope you don’t set me aside.” you finished. “god, kk, if only you knew how much I—“

kk kissed you the moment the clock struck midnight.

it was 12 am, and her lips were soft.

kk is back in the closet again. because of you. but she doesn’t mind, because you’re not afraid to be hers. you’ve proven that.

she hears you shuffling in the back, finishing up the impromptu conversation with your parent about… staying up late doing ‘nothing’.

kk snickers. you could’ve done her, if only your parent hadn’t went up to your room.

the closet door slides open, and you beam at her, and god— kk would do anything for you.

kk would do anything for you, because it’s you that risked everything for her.

because it’s you.

@likelysobbing

#kk arnold x reader #kk arnold uconn #uconn kk arnold #kk arnold #uconn wbb x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn x reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #kamorea arnold x reader #kamorea arnold #wbb #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wbb x reader #uconn wcbb #uconn huskies

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tommysversion · 18 days ago

Text

Off Limits: (Tommy Miller x F!Reader)

Summary: you piss Tommy off, but not for the reason he tries to tell himself. He tells himself he's a good man now; your existence tests that theory.

Warnings: smut / male masturbation / infidelity / implied breeding kink

Notes: written for @iamasaddie 's 24hour Miller Fic Sprint. The task was Tommy + the above gif. Reader has limited physical description beyond being female bodied & having noticeable breasts.

Word Count: 1.1k

Part Two

-- x --

You don't need to be a genius to know you piss Tommy Miller off. While you're far from stupid, he doesn't exactly hide his frustration. Not that you think it's your fault, not really.

You like to tease. Not just him; you like to flirt. It gives you a rush, makes most people see you as harmless, or someone to lend a helping hand to, because you're that sweet little thing that's always just on the edge of inappropriate. Always on the edge, though.

It pisses Tommy off. You piss Tommy off, because whenever you turn those big eyes on him, whenever you flash him one of those sweet smiles, or he catches a glimpse of too much thigh, too much cleavage, he almost forgets for a moment that he isn't the same man he used to be.

That the version of him before and just after the outbreak was long left behind. That he's a good man now. Married and certainly not the sort to let his eyes wander. He's a father now, for fucks' sake.

And yet here you are. Testing every bit of resolve he has. It's freezing fucking cold when he gets back from patrol, leads his horse back into the stables. He has his hair pulled back so you can see every streak of grey that starts at his temples.

God, he hates the way your eyes light up, the way your gaze lingers too long on him as you raise a hand in greeting. Or at least, he tells himself he hates it.

What he really hates is the way his cock goes half hard just from looking at you, in your too tight jeans and sweater that's just a little too low cut, enough that when you bend down to grab a pail of feed for his horse, he gets an eyeful of your tits.

He has to turn away to adjust the bulge in his jeans, pissed at himself from getting hard just from looking at you, like some fucking frat boy who's never seen a pair of tits before, rather than a grown man in his fifties who's seen, touched, and fucked far more than he can remember.

"You good, cowboy?"

Your voice is close; too close. He turns and there you fucking are, right next to him, holding the pail so his horse can eat, rubbing one of your hands up and down her nose. It's a perfectly innocent gesture, but his mind makes it dirty, imagines your hand wrapped around something else instead.

The stables are empty; it would be so easy, he thinks, so fucking easy to drag you into one of the empty stalls. To yank down that sweater and bury his face in your tits. He wonders, vaguely, whether he could make you cum just from sucking on your nipples.

He isn't that sort of person anymore, he tells himself sternly. He's a different man now. A good man. A good husband.

So he just nods tersely.

"Tired. Mind putting her back for me?"

He knows he shouldn't snap at you, doubts you're even aware of the reaction you cause in him.

"Of course." You give him another one of those smiles, the ones that are just that bit syrupy sweet, that he swears you keep just for him.

He's just turning away from you, halfway out the door, when he swears he hears you say "you know where to find me."

By the time he's home, he's half convinced himself he's imagined it; that you wouldn't be so bold and brazen, surely. Your demeanor is one thing, but to proposition him?

It's not that he's angry, or disgusted by the idea, and that in itself has him fuming as he strips off his coat, the shirts beneath it, his jeans. Runs himself a hot shower in the hope he can redirect his thoughts - and blood flow - from the aching hard on he's had since he caught an eyeful.

It would be so easy, he thinks, as he steps under the water. So easy to make some excuse and slip out of the house, walk the few blocks to your place. He wraps his hand around his cock, because it's really starting to throb now.

He imagines slamming the door to your house behind him. Shoving you up against a wall or the nearest bench. Yanking that sweater off of you. As he strokes his hand along his cock he wonders what color your nipples are; whether you're as sensitive as he suspects - hopes - you would be.

A low grunt leaves him as he rubs his cock slowly, picturing you all spread out for him. You'd be tight around him, he knows that much. He's in no means small in the endowment department, has often had to take it slow, use lube, use his mouth and fingers first because no matter how wet he gets someone, he's still thick.

He imagines the way your cunt would stretch around him, the little sounds you'd make as he slides all the way in. He groans again, low and filthy, leaning against the shower wall with one arm as he fists his cock, letting his balls slap heavily against his hand as he pictures himself fucking into you, the way you'd moan and whimper for him.

There'd be something satisfying about fucking you, about claiming you when so many others want you. Knowing you couldn't leave any marks on him, but he could kiss and bite and mark you however he wants.

He imagines pressing your thighs up against your tits, fucking into you so deep you can't help but scream for him, and then he's coming, grunting and groaning raggedly as his spend coats his fingers, drips down his hand into the shower stream while he imagines he's fucking it deep into your cunt instead.

Never mind the consequences, he thinks, if he's going to fuck you, he's going to do it properly, knock you the fuck up and fill you up with his baby.

He groans again as a second orgasm hits him unexpectedly at the thought, another hot gush of cum coating his fingers.

"Fuck-" he pants to himself, leans against the wall for a moment as he breathes heavily.

"You know where to find me-" you had said.

As he turns the water off he tries to shake the thought from his head. Yes. He does. And while he may not use that knowledge today, may still try to convince himself that he's a good man...

You know better, and it's only a matter of time.

#my fics #my writing #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller fanfiction #x reader #gabriel luna #Tommy Miller smut

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amethystarachnid · 4 months ago

Note

I know it's very classic. Tony Stark x F!Reader. Office romance. Tony likes her and the reader is unaware of it. Tony gets very angry at a man who tries to flirt with the reader in the office and makes her uncomfortable, then informs him of his mistake. He drags his assistant to his room and while arguing, he lets it slip that he is in love with her.

OFFICE ROMANCE

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, rom-com

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): little spicy scenes at the end, nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ Part 2

ᯓ★ yeah I know the title sucks I didnt know what to name it lol

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

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

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The elevator ride to Tony Stark’s office is uneventful—until the doors slide open, and you step right into chaos.

“Where is she? Where’s my assistant? Oh my God, I’m dying.”

Tony Stark is dramatically draped over his desk, one hand clutching his chest, the other extended toward the heavens like he’s in a Shakespearean tragedy. You barely have time to react before he twists his head toward the elevator, eyes locking onto yours with laser focus.

“There you are,” he groans. “Y/N, I think this is it. This is the end. You’re going to have to plan my funeral. Make it something classy, but also extravagant. Maybe fireworks? A Viking funeral? I don’t know, you decide.”

You sigh and step inside, the doors sliding shut behind you. “What is it this time, Mr. Stark?”

At the sound of his title, he frowns. “Really? We’re doing the ‘Mr. Stark’ thing today? Thought we were past that, sweetheart.”

You ignore him and set your bag down at your desk, flipping through the folders left for you overnight. Tony is still sprawled across his desk, his theatrics undeterred by your lack of concern.

“I’m serious,” he insists. “I might actually die this time.”

You finally look up at him, arms crossed. “Is it reactor-related, or are you just being dramatic?”

He gasps, placing a hand over his arc reactor. “I am never dramatic.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine, maybe I’m a little dramatic. But you were late this morning.”

You glance at the clock. “I was not late.”

“You were late to me,” he says, pointing accusingly. “Do you know what happens when you’re not here? Bad things. Boring things. Pepper makes me do paperwork, and Happy refuses to let me take the suit out for a spin at seven in the morning.”

Your lips twitch, but you suppress the smile. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t realize my presence was so vital to your survival.”

He lifts his head, expression serious. “Y/N, I don’t think you understand. You are the glue holding my fragile existence together.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Without you, I am but a billionaire genius playboy philanthropist adrift, lost at sea, doomed to perish in the harsh, unforgiving corporate world.”

“You are so full of it,” you mutter, grabbing your tablet to check his schedule.

Tony watches you, chin propped up in one hand. He does this a lot—just looks at you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the room, even when you’re doing something as mundane as scheduling meetings and reading emails. But you don’t notice.

You never notice.

And it’s driving him insane.

Tony Stark is in love with you.

Painfully, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you. And he’s not subtle about it, either. At least, he doesn’t think he is. He finds reasons to keep you around, finds excuses to talk to you, makes up the dumbest emergencies just to get your attention—and yet, somehow, you remain oblivious.

It’s almost impressive, really.

But also aggravating.

Tony sighs, rubbing his hands down his face before dramatically throwing himself back in his chair. “Okay, what’s on the agenda today, darling?”

You scroll through your tablet. “You have a meeting with Pepper at ten—”

“Cancel it.”

“You cannot cancel on Pepper.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “What else?”

“You have a tech demonstration at two, a conference call with the board at four—”

“Cancel that too.”

You sigh. “Tony.”

“Oh, now it’s Tony?” He smirks. “See, I knew you liked me.”

“I tolerate you,” you correct, setting your tablet down. “And you are going to that board meeting, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, but only if you’re there,” he says, pointing at you. “I refuse to suffer alone.”

You roll your eyes but nod. “I’ll be there.”

Tony grins, far too pleased with himself. He’s made you sit in on dozens of meetings that had nothing to do with your job, just because he likes having you there. He tells himself it’s because you keep him sane. That you make the long, boring hours more bearable.

But if he’s being honest, it’s just because he likes looking at you.

He likes the way your lips press together when you’re concentrating, the way your nose scrunches up when he says something stupid. He likes the way your eyes soften when you talk to him, even when you’re exasperated. He likes you. God, he likes you.

And yet, you remain completely, utterly unaware.

Tony watches as you type something into your tablet, your brows furrowed in concentration. He wonders what would happen if he just said it. If he just leaned across the desk, took your hands in his, and said—

“Mr. Stark?”

He snaps out of it. “Huh?”

“You okay? You spaced out.”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Fine. Totally fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

You squint at him, suspicious. “Are you sure? You look kind of—”

“Handsome? Dashing? Devastatingly attractive?”

“I was going to say pained, but sure.”

Tony groans and leans back in his chair. “This is agony,” he mutters.

You blink. “What is?”

You. You are agony. Being around you, loving you, wanting you, and you not even noticing—it’s torture.

But of course, he doesn’t say that.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just this board meeting. Ugh, corporate politics. You have to sit next to me, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, amused. “Anything else?”

“Yes. I need coffee. Desperately.”

You snort but stand up, grabbing your purse. “I’ll be back in ten.”

Tony watches you go, his head hitting the desk as soon as the doors shut behind you.

He is so screwed.

The days pass like they always do—fast, chaotic, and filled with Tony Stark’s unique brand of dramatics.

Between meetings, tech demos, Stark Industries board nonsense, and the occasional explosion in his lab (which he always swears is intentional), you’ve settled into an odd routine with him.

A routine that involves not just work, but him.

It starts small.

At first, it’s just casual conversation in between scheduling his appointments and making sure he actually attends them. A random question here and there.

“Morning, sweetheart. How do you feel about pineapple on pizza?”

“It’s fine, I guess.”

“Wrong answer. Completely unacceptable. I might have to fire you.”

Then, it becomes a daily thing.

He asks about your coffee order, remembers the way you take it without you telling him twice. He learns your favorite snacks, stocks the office kitchen with them. He finds out you love old Hollywood movies, and suddenly, his TV has a list of black-and-white classics queued up.

You don’t think much of it.

Tony Stark is friendly. He’s nosy. He likes to know things. It makes sense that he’d ask about your life outside of work.

But to him, it’s everything.

Because these little details—the things you like, the way you laugh, the way you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about—are what keep him grounded.

Sometimes, he even talks about himself, which is rare.

You don’t realize what a big deal it is at first. You’ve worked for him long enough to know he talks a lot, but usually, it’s about his inventions or some wild new idea he has.

But with you?

He tells you about his mom’s love for classical music, how she used to play records while she cooked. How his dad was cold but brilliant, how he spent his childhood trying to impress a man who never really saw him. How he went to MIT at fifteen and spent half his time pranking professors and the other half building things he wasn’t supposed to.

He tells you about Afghanistan one night, when it’s just the two of you in his office, the city lights glowing behind him.

About the cave, about the first arc reactor, about Yinsen and what he’d meant to him.

You listen.

You don’t pity him, don’t give him some empty platitude about how it must’ve been hard. You just listen.

And Tony—who has spent most of his life drowning out his own thoughts with distractions—thinks maybe you are the best thing that has ever happened to him.

He also thinks you might never notice how much you mean to him.

Which is why he’s completely blindsided when it happens.

It’s a normal day.

You’re at your desk, typing away, while Tony lounges on the couch with a blueprint in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, pretending to work while actually watching you.

Then Happy walks in.

“There’s a guy here to see you,” he tells Tony, looking unimpressed.

Tony doesn’t even look up. “Tell him I’m busy.”

“He says it’s urgent.”

Tony sighs, pushing himself up. “Fine, fine. Send him in.”

Happy steps aside, and the guy walks in.

You glance up, offering a polite smile before going back to your work.

The man is tall, well-dressed, and carries himself like he’s important—which immediately annoys Tony. He hates people who walk into his space acting like they own the place.

“Mr. Stark,” the man says, offering his hand. “Nathan Ellis. Big fan.”

Tony shakes his hand but looks bored already. “Uh-huh. What do you want?”

Nathan chuckles, like Tony just made a joke. “I had a business proposition I wanted to discuss with you. Something that could be mutually beneficial.”

Tony gestures lazily to you. “Talk to her. She handles all the boring stuff.”

You roll your eyes but give Nathan a professional smile. “What’s the proposition?”

But Nathan isn’t looking at you like a businessman pitching an idea. He’s looking at you like a man sizing up a woman, and Tony immediately hates him.

Nathan smirks. “You’re much prettier than I expected.”

You stiffen just a little, but you keep your composure. “That’s not really relevant,” you say, your tone still polite but firm. “What’s relevant is what you’re proposing.”

Nathan leans against your desk like he belongs there. “Can’t I compliment a beautiful woman?”

Tony sits up straight, his eyes narrowing.

You force a tight smile. “I’d prefer if we kept this professional.”

Nathan laughs, but it’s the kind of laugh that says he doesn’t really take you seriously. “Oh, come on. No need to be so serious, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Tony sees red.

That’s his word.

His fingers tighten around the screwdriver in his hand, but he stays quiet—for now—watching you, waiting to see if you want him to step in.

You shift uncomfortably, clearly trying to remain professional, but it’s obvious you’re not enjoying this.

Tony doesn’t give a damn about professionalism.

He stands up, moving toward you in a few easy strides before leaning down and planting his hands on your desk, effectively caging you in while staring Nathan down.

“You know,” Tony says, voice deceptively light, “I really don’t like it when people make my assistant uncomfortable.”

Nathan blinks, clearly not expecting that.

You glance up at Tony, eyes wide.

Tony doesn’t look at you. His attention is solely on Nathan, his jaw tight, his expression calm but dangerous.

Nathan chuckles nervously. “I was just making conversation.”

“Yeah? Well, here’s the thing,” Tony says, tilting his head. “She doesn’t want to have a conversation with you.”

Nathan raises his hands. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

Tony smiles, but it’s not friendly. “Oh, buddy, you stepped on mine, and I really don’t like that.”

Nathan shifts uncomfortably.

Tony straightens, taking a step back—but then he leans down again, close enough that only Nathan can hear when he says, “If you ever talk to her like that again, I will ruin your entire life before breakfast.”

Nathan swallows.

Tony claps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Now, I think we’re done here.”

Nathan nods quickly, then turns and practically flees the office.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Tony turns to you, concern flickering across his face. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just… guys like that make my skin crawl.”

Tony watches you for a moment, then surprises you by gently brushing his fingers over yours.

You glance down at your hands, startled.

It’s not much. Just the lightest touch. But it makes your heart stutter.

“Next time, just say the word,” Tony says softly. “I’ll handle it.”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“I—uh—thank you,” you murmur.

Tony smirks, his fingers curling around yours for just a second before he lets go.

Then, just like that, he’s back to normal, plopping onto the couch and stretching like nothing happened.

But something did.

And for the first time, you wonder if you’ve been missing something this whole time.

In the days after the Nathan incident, something shifts.

You don’t know what it is exactly, but you feel it.

Maybe it’s the way Tony watches you a little too closely when he thinks you aren’t looking. Or the way you replay that moment in your head—his fingers brushing yours, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

Or maybe it’s the way you feel when you look at him now.

You’ve worked for Tony long enough to know he’s magnetic. People gravitate toward him, caught in his orbit like planets around the sun. You’ve always thought he was charming in an annoying way, a flirt by nature, someone who could talk his way into—or out of—anything.

But now, for the first time, you find yourself looking at him differently.

You start noticing things you never did before.

The way his eyes soften when he looks at you. The way he always saves the last bite of his favorite snacks for you. The way he makes excuses to keep you in his office longer, even when the work is done.

And it’s terrifying.

Because if this was anyone else—anyone—maybe you’d let yourself admit it. Maybe you’d let yourself fall.

But this is Tony Stark. Your boss.

And that means it’s impossible.

So, you bury it. You convince yourself you’re imagining things, that Tony is just Tony, and you’re reading into it too much.

Then Nathan Ellis comes back.

You’re at your desk, sorting through a ridiculous amount of emails when Happy walks in, looking unimpressed as always.

“Great,” he mutters. “He’s back.”

You look up, confused. “Who’s back?”

As if on cue, Nathan Ellis strolls in, his smarmy grin already making your stomach twist.

Tony is in the corner of the room, tinkering with something, but at the sound of Nathan’s voice, his hands still.

Nathan leans against your desk. “Miss Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot last time.”

You keep your expression polite but distant. “Did we?”

He laughs. “Look, I’m not here to talk business today.”

Tony doesn’t like that.

His fingers tighten around his wrench, his jaw clenching as he subtly shifts closer to listen.

Nathan continues, oblivious. “I was hoping to make it up to you. Dinner, maybe? There’s a great place downtown. My treat.”

You blink, caught off guard.

Your first instinct is to say no. You don’t like Nathan. He made you uncomfortable, and you have no interest in him.

But then—Tony.

You don’t look at him, but you feel his presence. You feel the weight of everything unspoken between you, the things you refuse to acknowledge.

So before you can think it through, you hear yourself say, “Sure.”

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, a way to prove—to yourself, to Tony, to whatever this thing is between you—that you can still be rational. That you don’t have feelings for Tony. That you can move on, be professional, keep your life normal.

But as soon as the word leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Nathan grins, clearly pleased. “Great. I’ll pick you up Friday at seven.”

You nod stiffly, and he finally leaves.

Silence lingers in the room.

You risk a glance at Tony.

He’s looking at his workbench, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say a word.

And that, somehow, makes you feel worse.

—

Friday rolls around faster than you expect.

You dread it.

The moment you wake up, you regret saying yes.

You don’t want to go out with Nathan.

But backing out now would make you look ridiculous, and you refuse to admit—to yourself or to anyone else—why you really don’t want to go.

So, you tell yourself you’ll go. One date. It’s not a big deal.

Then Tony ruins it.

The day is insane.

More meetings than usual, a sudden crisis with one of Stark Industries’ overseas contracts, a last-minute tech demo that Tony insists he needs you to be there for.

By the time you finally look at the clock, it’s almost nine.

Your stomach drops.

You completely forgot about the date.

You grab your phone, wincing when you see multiple missed calls and texts from Nathan, all of them getting progressively more annoyed.

Shit.

You stand abruptly, grabbing your bag.

Tony—who is lounging on the couch, looking suspiciously satisfied—raises an eyebrow. “Going somewhere?”

You glare at him. “Did you do this on purpose?”

He blinks, all mock innocence. “Do what?”

“This.” You gesture wildly at the stack of paperwork still on your desk, the mess of your day, the way you were so busy you lost track of time. “You knew I had plans tonight.”

Tony shrugs. “Did you?”

You want to scream.

“Tony.”

Something flickers in his expression when you say his name like that—low, almost dangerous.

You step closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You did do this on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but the smug look on his face tells you everything.

He did this.

He made sure you were too busy to leave, too busy to go on the date.

And for some reason, that makes your heart pound in a way you don’t want to analyze.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Tony leans back, tilting his head at you. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a date.”

You gape at him. “That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is you manipulated me into missing it!”

He stands, stepping into your space, close enough that you have to crane your neck to keep looking at him.

And suddenly, the room feels too small.

“I didn’t manipulate anything,” he says, voice low. “I just gave you work. You’re the one who got so caught up in it you forgot about him.”

Your breath catches.

Because he’s right.

You were the one who didn’t check the time. The one who let yourself get wrapped up in Tony’s world.

And maybe—just maybe—it was because deep down, you didn’t want to go.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he wanted this. That he made sure it happened.

You shake your head, stepping back. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Mess with my life like this. You don’t get to control who I see, Tony.”

He flinches.

For a second, you think he’s going to argue, make another joke, deflect like he always does.

But instead, he just watches you, something raw and unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Then, he sighs. Runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “I don’t.”

The honesty in his voice catches you off guard.

It almost—almost—makes you soften.

But you’re still angry.

So without another word, you turn on your heel and leave.

Tony doesn’t stop you.

And the worst part?

A small, traitorous part of you wishes he had.

You don’t make it far.

You storm out of the office, heart pounding, anger bubbling in your chest so violently you can taste it. You don’t even know where you’re going—just away.

Away from Tony and his smug little I didn’t manipulate anything face. Away from the way he looked at you, like he wasn’t the least bit sorry. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Like he had every right to do it.

You make it to the elevator before you hear him behind you.

“Y/N.”

You don’t turn around.

“Y/N,” Tony repeats, voice sharp now, edged with something you don’t recognize.

You stab the elevator button. “Go away, Tony.”

“Yeah, see, that’s not gonna happen.”

You spin on your heel, glaring at him. “Oh, what now? You gonna kidnap me? Make sure I never leave this damn building?”

Tony sighs like you’re the one being difficult. “I just want to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” You laugh, crossing your arms. “Because when I was trying to talk about how you sabotaged my night, you had nothing to say.”

Tony clenches his jaw. “It wasn’t sabotage.”

“Oh, really?” You raise an eyebrow. “So it was just a coincidence that today of all days you gave me twice as much work as usual? That you suddenly needed me in meetings I normally don’t have to be in? That you—”

“I didn’t want you to go.”

The words come out quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

But you hear them.

And you freeze.

Tony exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. His gaze flickers away for a second, like he’s regretting saying it.

But then he looks back at you, and there’s something in his eyes—something real.

Something that makes your stomach flip.

You swallow hard. “Tony…”

He shakes his head. “Just—come back to the office. Please.”

You should say no. You should walk away.

But you don’t.

Because even though you’re furious, even though every rational part of your brain is screaming at you to be professional—to keep things normal—there’s a deeper, quieter part of you that wants to hear what he has to say.

So, you turn. Walk back.

And Tony follows.

—

The office feels different when you get back.

Quieter. Tense.

You lean against your desk, arms crossed, watching as Tony paces the room.

“Well?” you say finally.

Tony stops. Looks at you.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks… nervous.

Not the fake, exaggerated kind he puts on for show, but real nervous.

He exhales. “I don’t want you dating him.”

You scoff. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“I don’t want you dating anyone.”

Your breath catches.

Tony swallows hard. “Because I—” He hesitates, like he’s physically fighting the words. Then, finally, he just says it.

“Because I love you.”

Everything stops.

The air in the room shifts, like the world itself is holding its breath.

You stare at him, your brain struggling to process what just happened.

Tony looks like he wants to take it back, like he wants to shove the words back into his mouth and pretend they never happened.

But they did.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

The way he looks at you. The way he knows you—your coffee order, your favorite movies, the way you feel about things before you even say them.

The way he brushed his fingers over yours that day, like it meant something.

The way he sabotaged your date—not because he was being petty, but because the thought of you with someone else made him want to burn the world down.

And, God—maybe you do love him.

Maybe you have for longer than you realized.

You exhale sharply, your heart slamming against your ribs.

“Say something,” Tony mutters.

You don’t.

You move.

Before you can second-guess yourself, before you can let all the rules and expectations stop you, you grab him by the collar of his stupidly expensive shirt and kiss him.

Tony freezes for half a second.

Then he melts.

His hands come up, one gripping your waist, the other tangling in your hair. He kisses you like he’s starving for it, like he’s been waiting for this—for you.

And maybe he has.

Maybe you both have.

When you finally pull back, you’re breathless.

Tony stares at you, lips parted, looking so completely wrecked that you almost laugh.

Almost.

Instead, you press your forehead against his, inhaling deeply.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

Tony chuckles, breath warm against your skin. “No, you don’t.”

You sigh, closing your eyes. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah,” Tony murmurs. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You do laugh this time.

Because of course he’d say that.

Because of course it was always going to be this—messy, chaotic, inevitable.

And as Tony kisses you again—slow this time, like he never wants to stop—you know one thing for certain.

You’re never making it to another date with anyone ever again.

Tony kisses you like he’s making up for lost time. Like he’s wanted this for so long he doesn’t know how to hold back anymore. His hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin through the fabric of your blouse as he pulls you closer, eliminating the last bit of space between you. You feel the edge of the desk dig into the small of your back, but you don’t care. Not when Tony’s mouth is on yours, not when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, not when his hand slides up your back, warm and firm and impossible to ignore.

You gasp against his lips, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt, and he groans in response. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and suddenly you’re not thinking about where you are or what this means or how this is completely unprofessional. You’re only thinking about how much you want him. How much you’ve always wanted him, even when you didn’t want to admit it.

Tony shifts, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, and before you can process what’s happening, he lifts you onto the desk. You barely manage to let out a startled breath before he’s between your legs, pressing into you, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You tilt your head back, your hands moving on their own, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, sliding over the hard planes of his chest. Tony lets out a low curse, his breath hot against your skin, and you know this is getting out of control. You know you should stop. But then his fingers graze the hem of your skirt, and your heart is pounding, and—

A knock on the door makes you both freeze.

Your eyes snap open, and Tony’s lips still against your throat. For a second, neither of you moves. Your breath is ragged, and Tony’s grip on your waist tightens like he’s physically stopping himself from ignoring the interruption.

“Tony?”

Happy’s voice is muffled through the door, but it’s enough to jolt you back to reality.

You push at Tony’s chest, and he steps back with obvious reluctance. His eyes are dark, his hair is a mess from your hands, and his lips are swollen. The sight of him like this, completely wrecked, makes something deep in your stomach tighten.

You shake yourself out of it, sliding off the desk as you smooth down your clothes. Tony watches you, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to get himself under control.

“Yeah, yeah,” he calls out, voice rough. “Give me a second.”

There’s a pause, then the sound of footsteps retreating.

You exhale, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“That was—”

Tony smirks. “Hot?”

You glare at him, but it lacks heat. “Unprofessional.��

Tony sighs dramatically. “Yeah, that too.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the way your entire body is still buzzing. “We can’t do that at work.”

Tony’s smirk widens, and you realize what you just said a second too late.

“So you’re saying we can do it outside of work?”

You groan. “Not what I meant.”

Tony grins, stepping closer again. His fingers brush your wrist, light and teasing. “Come over after your shift.”

You bite your lip, considering.

Tony dips his head, voice dropping. “I’ll behave.”

You snort. “No, you won’t.”

Tony shrugs, completely unapologetic. “Yeah, okay, I won’t.”

You roll your eyes but don’t say no.

Tony notices.

—

You don’t talk about what this means. You don’t sit down and define your relationship, don’t have some long, serious conversation about what you are to each other now.

But you don’t need to.

Because it’s obvious in the way Tony kisses you when you show up at his penthouse after work. In the way he pulls you onto the couch, his hands sliding under your shirt, his mouth never leaving yours. In the way you spend the night tangled in his sheets, waking up to his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

It’s obvious in the way he looks at you at work, in the way he always finds an excuse to touch you. A hand at the small of your back when he passes by, a brush of his fingers against yours when he hands you something, a teasing whisper against your ear that makes you shiver.

You try to be subtle.

You don’t want anyone thinking you’re only with him to climb the corporate ladder, and Tony—surprisingly—understands. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t announce it to the world, doesn’t make some grand declaration in the middle of a meeting.

But he also doesn’t hide it.

Not really.

Because the way he looks at you isn’t subtle. The way he finds any excuse to keep you in his office longer than necessary isn’t subtle. The way he calls you sweetheart in private and Miss Y/L/N in front of others with a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing definitely isn’t subtle.

And then there are the stolen kisses.

The ones in the elevator when no one else is around. The ones in the hallway when he tugs you into a supply closet with a grin and a just real quick, I missed you. The ones at his penthouse when you show up after a long day and he greets you at the door with his hands already on your hips, pulling you inside like he’s been waiting for you all day.

Because he has.

You find yourself spending more nights at his place than your own. It starts slowly—one night, then two, then three. Then, before you know it, most of your stuff is at his penthouse, and you don’t even think about going home after work anymore.

Tony never says anything about it. He never asks you to stay.

But he doesn’t have to.

Because the way he holds you when you fall asleep says everything.

Because the way he presses a lazy kiss to your temple in the morning when he thinks you’re still asleep says everything.

Because the way he looks at you—like you’re the most important thing in the world—says everything.

Tony kisses you like he’s savoring every second. His hands rest on your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make you shiver. You’re sitting on his desk, legs wrapped loosely around his hips, completely lost in the moment. It’s a rare quiet afternoon in the office, just the two of you, and Tony has taken full advantage of it.

You hum against his lips as he trails his mouth down your jaw, then lower to your neck. His stubble grazes your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. His lips are warm, soft, teasing as he lingers just beneath your ear. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Tony chuckles when he feels your breath hitch. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You grab a fistful of his shirt. Tony responds with a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of your neck. His tongue flicks against your skin, followed by a light nip that makes you gasp. His mouth lingers there, sucking just hard enough to leave his mark.

A sharp knock on the door shatters the moment.

You both freeze. Tony exhales against your skin, shoulders tensing.

Another knock, this one louder.

Tony groans. "They have the worst timing, I swear—"

Then the door swings open, and your stomach drops.

Nathan Ellis stands in the doorway, his expression dark and furious.

The sight of him immediately kills any lingering warmth from your moment with Tony. He looks different from the smooth, arrogant man who asked you out—his jaw is clenched, his eyes cold, his posture rigid with anger.

You stiffen, already knowing this won’t be good.

Nathan steps inside without waiting for permission, eyes locked onto you. "You stood me up."

Tony straightens, immediately stepping in front of you in a way that makes it clear he has no intention of letting Nathan get any closer. "Big deal," he says flatly. "She didn’t want to go. Move on."

Nathan ignores him, eyes still burning into you. "You didn’t even have the decency to text me? Let me know instead of wasting my time?"

Your throat tightens. You don’t want to deal with this. "I got caught up at work. It wasn’t intentional."

Nathan scoffs. "Bullshit. You’re just another woman who likes to play games. You say yes to a date and then don’t even bother showing up? You think that makes you look good?"

Something shifts in Tony. His entire body goes tense, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Watch how you talk to her."

Nathan finally looks at Tony, his upper lip curling in disgust. "Oh, I get it now. This is why you didn’t show up, huh?" His gaze flickers back to you, sharp and accusing. Then his eyes catch something on your neck, and his entire expression twists into something uglier.

Your stomach sinks.

You don’t even need to look in a mirror to know what he’s staring at. You feel the lingering warmth where Tony’s mouth was just moments ago.

Nathan lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Wow. That’s just perfect." He turns back to Tony. "Guess I should’ve figured. Why go out with someone like me when you can just screw your boss instead?"

Your eyes widen in shock.

Tony moves before you can react.

His fist collides with Nathan’s jaw, the impact loud in the silence of the office. Nathan stumbles back, his hand flying up to his face, a stunned expression flashing across his features before fury takes over.

"Tony!" You grab his arm before he can swing again, your heart pounding.

Nathan straightens, eyes blazing with pure hatred. "You’re insane."

Tony glares at him. "Get out."

Nathan sneers, wiping his mouth. "Oh, trust me, I’m leaving. But you’re gonna regret this. Both of you."

Tony doesn’t even let him turn fully before pulling out his phone and pressing a button. "Happy. Come get this asshole out of my office."

Nathan’s jaw tightens, but before he can say anything else, heavy footsteps echo down the hall. Happy Hogan appears in the doorway, expression unreadable but posture firm.

"Let’s go," Happy says.

Nathan glares at you one last time, then at Tony, before reluctantly stepping back. Happy follows him out, and just like that, he’s gone.

The office is silent again, but the tension lingers.

Your pulse is still racing. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. Then you look at Tony.

He’s standing there, still tense, his hand flexing like he’s barely holding himself back from going after Nathan again.

"You punched him," you say, still a little in shock.

Tony shrugs. "He deserved it."

You let out a breath, rubbing your hands over your face. "I can’t believe this happened."

Tony frowns. "You okay?"

You hesitate. "I just—" You groan. "Tony, you gave me a hickey."

Tony blinks, then smirks. "Just now realizing that?"

You glare at him. "I have to work in this office. People are gonna see."

Tony tilts his head, completely unbothered. "So? Let ‘em see."

You stare at him. "I don’t want them to see."

He sighs dramatically. "Alright, alright. I guess I can be more strategic about my placement next time."

You groan again, turning toward your desk. "I need concealer."

Tony snickers. "You could just wear a scarf. It’d be very elegant. Very old-Hollywood."

You shoot him a look over your shoulder. "You think this is funny."

Tony steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder as he murmurs against your ear, "I know this is funny."

You shove at him, but you’re smiling despite yourself. "You’re the worst."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw before finally letting you go. "Now hurry up and cover it. I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I need my very professional assistant to not look like she just had a makeout session with her boss."

You roll your eyes, reaching into your bag for your concealer. Tony watches you with a stupidly smug expression.

You shake your head, but your heart is still racing for a completely different reason now.

Because even after everything, even after the chaos Nathan caused, one thing is crystal clear.

You and Tony? You’re solid. And no one—not Nathan, not anyone—can change that.

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