#why we use white box testing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkmatilda · 6 months ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢��𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her. He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief.

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location.

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

"Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

“Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

“Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

"Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else��s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control.

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it.

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth.

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else.

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength.

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you. That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

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alohajix · 3 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐚𝐩𝐞

Description: she said she wasn’t nervous. She said she'd never done this before. But then he walked in—and made her forget every lie she told herself. The Casting Tape — you only need to watch it once to come back for more.

Warnings: this one-shot includes explicit sexual content, including fingering, oral sex (M/F), face-fucking, rough grinding, dirty talk, praise kink, light choking, spanking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), and graphic language. Readers +18.

Words count: ~ 7K.

I understand you guys really enjoyed “First Time for Everything”. So here’s a new one-shot I've been working on for a while, featuring pornstar!harry once again.

please enjoyyy💕

*****

I almost didn’t walk through the door. It looked too normal from the outside—just a nondescript black building sandwiched between a vape shop and a custom auto wrap place. No sign. No logo. Just a metal door and a tiny keypad. I stood there for a full minute, staring at my reflection in the door’s narrow glass panel, wondering what the hell I was doing. My fingers fidgeted with the zipper on my hoodie as I debated bailing. But then I remembered rent. And how many hours I’d spent reading that post.

“Paid casting opportunity. Professional, safe, filmed. No pressure to continue. Just be yourself.”

So I buzzed in. A soft click, and I stepped inside. The air was cool, sterile, quiet. A short hallway led to a room that looked more like a YouTube set than anything porn-related—white walls, gray backdrop, soft box lights aimed at a plain black leather couch. A camera was already set up on a tripod, its little red light blinking lazily like it was waiting. There was no one else in the room, just a low table with a water bottle and a clipboard. I approached it like it might bite.

“Hey there,” a voice called from behind me—low, male, casual. “You can grab a seat. We’ll start in a second.”

I turned to find a guy with a headset leaning against the doorframe, sipping coffee. He looked more like someone who worked in tech support than adult film, and he barely glanced at me. That helped a little. I gave him a tight smile and sat down on the couch, tucking one leg under the other. The camera stared back at me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my denim skirt.

“You go by your real name or a stage name?” the voice asked.

I hesitated. “Stage name.”

He chuckled. “Smart. What should we call you?”

“…Lola.” I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t even know anyone named Lola.

“Cute,” he said. “Alright, Lola. We’re just gonna ask you a few questions. Keep your eyes on the camera, speak clearly, be yourself.”

I nodded once. The camera light turned solid red.

“Tell us how old you are and why you’re here.”

My voice came out a little too fast. “Twenty-two. I—uh—I heard about this through a friend of a friend. Thought it might be… interesting.”

“And have you done anything like this before?”

I forced a smile. “Not professionally.”

He chuckled again, friendly but disinterested. “Good answer. So—this is a soft casting. No pressure to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We just want to see how you come across on camera. If it feels natural, maybe we’ll try a short chemistry test.”

My stomach flipped. “Chemistry test?”

“With a partner,” he clarified. “Clothed or not. Touching or not. Totally up to you.”

I swallowed hard. “And who’s the partner?”

“Hey, man,” the guy said suddenly, glancing over my shoulder. “You mind stepping in for a quick test?”

I didn’t hear footsteps. I felt them. Slow. Heavy. Purposeful. And then I heard his voice.

“Yeah. I’ve got time.” I turned. And immediately forgot how to breathe.

He walked in wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tucked under a gray beanie, tattooed arms on full display. Calm. Comfortable. Like he belonged here. And when his eyes met mine—green, curious, knowing—I had to look away before I gave something away.

I knew who he was. Everyone who’s ever dipped into amateur porn knew who he was. He wasn’t just a pornstar—he was the pornstar. The one known for making people cry in the best way possible. The one who ruined girls for normal guys. The one I may or may not have watched the night I sent my application in.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice like silk. “I’m Harry.” Of course he was.

I tried to remember how to smile. “Hi.”

He looked me over—slowly, respectfully, but definitely. His gaze dragged from my hoodie to my bare thighs, then up to my lips before meeting my eyes again.

“You okay to keep going?” he asked. “Or just here to talk?” His tone was soft. Patient.

I bit my lip. I should’ve said no. I should’ve kept it simple. But the way he was looking at me… “Let’s try,” I said quietly.

His mouth curled into a half-smile. “We’ll go slow.”

He sat beside me on the couch, leaving just enough space between us that it felt intentional. His thigh brushed mine every time I shifted, and I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose—but I hoped it was.

The camera was still rolling. “You nervous?” he asked, his voice low and almost amused.

“A little,” I admitted. “You’re not exactly a nobody.”

He smiled at that—soft, slow, like he was letting the compliment soak into his skin.

“Well, I’ve done a few of these,” he said, tilting his body slightly toward me. “So if you want to stop at any point, you say the word. We good on that?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Safe word or something?”

“We can use red. If you want to pause, say yellow. But honestly? Just talk to me. I listen.”

God, that shouldn’t have made my stomach twist—but it did. His hand landed gently on my knee. Just a touch. Nothing dirty. But the weight of it made my heart skip.

“Can I touch you a little more?” he asked.

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

He slid his hand up my thigh, slow and deliberate, until his fingers curled around the bare skin just beneath the hem of my skirt. His pinky brushed the side of my underwear. He didn’t move further. He just… held me.

“See? You’re already shaking a little,” he said, voice soft like a secret.

“I’m not,” I lied.

His thumb moved lazily across my thigh. “You are. That’s okay, though. Nervous is normal. But you look good nervous.”

I smirked despite myself. “Is that your line?”

“No,” he said, leaning in just a little. “That’s the truth.”

His other hand reached up, fingers playing with the zipper of my hoodie. He didn’t pull it down right away—he just watched my face.

“Can I?”

I nodded again. “Yeah.”

He tugged the zipper down, slow as hell. I didn’t wear a bra on purpose—I’d told myself it was about being comfortable, but I’d also known what kind of job this was. I’d wanted to feel like I was ready for it, even if I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. He pushed the hoodie off my shoulders, revealing my thin tank top underneath—white, ribbed, tight. My nipples were already hard beneath the fabric.

His eyes dropped for half a second. “Fuck.”

“What?” I teased.

“You’re hot.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Didn’t expect that.”

I grinned. “You didn’t look me up before this?”

He leaned closer, lips near my ear. “Didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Fuck. That got to me. I shifted in my seat, squeezing my thighs together, and his hand didn’t miss it.

“You get turned on easily, don’t you?” he murmured.

“Only when someone says shit like that.”

He chuckled, and it vibrated straight through me. “Alright then. Let’s see how much you can take before we even get your clothes off.”

He turned to face me fully, his hand now resting between my thighs, thumb pressing lightly at the crease where leg met hip. I was still covered, but it felt dangerously intimate.

“Look at me,” he said. I did.

His hand moved to my waist, sliding under the hem of my shirt. His palm was warm on my bare skin, fingertips grazing my ribcage, tracing just under the curve of my breast. His thumb brushed upward, catching the edge of my nipple through the fabric—and I gasped, barely holding still.

“Sensitive?” he asked, eyes still locked on mine. I nodded, biting my lip.

He pinched lightly—just enough to make me jerk—and then soothed the spot with his palm.

“You’re already breathing like you’ve been at this for an hour.”

“Maybe I just like the way you touch,” I whispered.

He grinned again. “Yeah?”

His other hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he leaned in. “I’m gonna kiss you now. Okay?”

I nodded. “Please.” And then he kissed me. Slow. Firm. One hand holding my jaw just right while the other teased under my shirt. His lips moved against mine like he had all the time in the world. He tasted like mint and something just a little bit sweet—god, it was unfair how good he was at this.

My mouth opened for him on instinct, tongue brushing his as he deepened the kiss. I whimpered before I meant to, and he smiled against my lips.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He pulled me onto his lap. I didn’t even realize I’d moved until I felt his thighs beneath mine, the stretch of my skirt riding up, the thick press of him already hard beneath me.

“You wanna keep going?” he asked, hand splayed on my lower back.

“Yes.”

“You wanna keep your clothes on for now?”

I nodded again. “Let me stay like this.”

He gave a slow, approving nod. “Smart girl.”

I started to grind—tentatively, testing—and he held me tighter.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hands stayed on my waist, guiding me. My panties were soaked through already, and he hadn’t even touched me properly. His cock pressed up against my center through both layers, and the friction was delicious.

“Feel what you’re doing to me?” he whispered. I nodded. “Good. Don’t stop.” I didn’t.

I rocked against him slowly, rhythmically, trying to match the pace of his hands, trying not to let my moans get too loud. But the fabric was slick, and I was clenching around nothing, desperate for more. He leaned up to kiss me again, slower this time, while grinding back into me with little thrusts of his hips.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered. “Using me to get yourself off. All clothed. So dirty, baby.”

God, baby—the way it rolled off his tongue nearly made me come.

“I wanna see you fall apart,” he said against my lips. “But not yet. Gotta take my time with you.”

I whimpered, hands clutching his shoulders. “Why?”

“‘Cause I want it to be unforgettable.”

I didn’t mean to drop to my knees. It just happened. One second, I was straddling him, moaning into his mouth, and the next, I was slipping down between his legs, hands trailing over his thighs like they belonged there. He didn’t stop me. Didn’t say a word—just leaned back on the couch and watched me with that slow-burning smirk, his chest rising and falling like he already knew what I was going to do next.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice husky.

I nodded as I settled between his thighs, reaching for the waistband of his sweats. “You’ve been hard since I got here.”

His brow ticked up. “And you think that means you get to do something about it?”

I looked up at him, tilted my head innocently. “I know I do.”

He grinned. “Cocky.”

“I learned from the best,” I said, tugging his sweats down just enough to free him. And fuck.

I’d seen it before—on screens, in videos—but nothing prepared me for the way it looked up close. Thick, long, already leaking at the tip. Veins along the shaft. His entire body was unfair, but this? This was just cruel.

I wrapped my hand around him slowly.

“You gonna stare at it all day, or you gonna do something?” he teased.

I licked a long stripe from the base to the tip, just to shut him up. His breath caught.

“Mouth open,” he murmured. I obeyed, letting my tongue hang out as I stroked him slowly. He was heavy in my hand, warm and twitching, and when I finally took him into my mouth, I moaned like it was for me, not him.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, his head tipping back. “You’re better than half the girls I’ve filmed with.”

I pulled back just enough to say, “That supposed to make me feel special?”

He looked down at me with a grin. “It should.” Then he shifted his hips forward a little, his hand slipping into my hair. “Hold still,” he said. “Let me fuck your mouth a little.”

I whimpered, nodding as he gathered my hair in his fist and guided me back down. His thrusts were slow at first, controlled, testing. He pushed past my lips and onto my tongue, letting me feel every inch. I hollowed my cheeks around him, drool already sliding down my chin. The angle made my throat ache—but I didn’t care. He watched every second.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Look at me. Eyes up. Fuck—just like that.” I moaned around him, and he groaned in return, gripping my hair tighter. “You like this?” he asked. “Being used a little?”

I blinked up at him, spit trailing from my lip to the base of his cock. “Yes.”

“How filthy are you, baby?”

I swallowed him deeper before answering. “Wanna choke on it.”

He smirked, that filthy edge sharpening in his eyes. “Greedy girl.”

He held my jaw and started to fuck into my mouth harder, sloppier. My mascara was running—I could feel it—and my knees were going numb, but I didn’t care. Not when he was groaning and panting above me, thumb wiping spit from the corner of my mouth.

“Open wider,” he growled. “Let me all the way in.”

I did. He pushed in until the tip hit the back of my throat, and I gagged—but he didn’t stop. He stayed there for a second, watching the tears spill down my cheeks before pulling back with a wet, obscene pop.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” I blinked up at him, dazed and wrecked, lips puffy and slick. “You want me to come in your mouth?” he asked.

“No.” He raised a brow. “I want more than that.” He stared at me for a beat. Then he reached down, grabbed my arm, and pulled me gently to my feet.

“Take your clothes off.”

I hesitated, chest heaving. “All of them?”

“All of them,” he said softly. “Want to see what kind of mess I’ve made.”

I peeled off my hoodie first, even though it had already been unzipped. My tank top followed, sticky with sweat. Then my skirt. Then my panties—soaked, clinging to my thighs. His eyes drank me in.

“You’re soaked.”

“You made me like this.”

He stood up—slow, deliberate—and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my neck, then lower, until he was kneeling in front of me.

“You ever squirt before?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed hard. “No.”

He smirked. “Might today.” Then he leaned in and dragged his tongue across my inner thigh.

He didn’t go for my pussy right away. Instead, he kissed every inch around it—my thighs, the crease of my hip, the patch of skin just above my mound. His hands wrapped around my legs, holding me steady as he took his time. The anticipation had my stomach fluttering, my cunt clenching around nothing, desperate to be touched.

“Please,” I whispered, shifting.

He looked up at me from between my legs, his lips shiny with spit. “Yeah?”

I nodded, breath shaky. “I—I need—”

He slid one finger up my slit, slow as hell. “You need this?” he asked, teasing my clit with the lightest touch. “Or my mouth?”

“Both.”

He grinned. “Good answer.” Then he dove in.

His mouth latched around my clit like he’d missed it, like he owned it. His tongue flicked and sucked, alternating between slow pressure and fast strokes that made my legs tremble. I cried out, one hand gripping the back of the couch, the other tangled in his hair. He moaned against me when I tugged, and I felt it vibrate through my whole body.

“F-fuck,” I gasped. “Harry—”

“You taste so sweet,” he muttered between licks. “Could stay here all day.”

He pushed two fingers into me while his tongue kept working, curling them just right. My back arched off the couch, a moan ripping from my throat so loud I was sure the mic picked it up.

“That’s it,” he said. “Let them hear how good I’m making you feel.”

I was already on the edge, too fast, too intense—and he knew it.

“You close?” he asked, sliding his fingers faster, deeper, hitting every nerve ending I had.

I nodded, gasping. “Yes—yes—fuck, don’t stop—” He stopped. Pulled back. Fingers still inside me, but barely moving. I whimpered. “Why—”

“Cause I want you to come on my cock, not my tongue.”

“Fucking mean,” I whispered.

He smirked. “You like it.” I hated how right he was.

He stood and kicked off his sweats fully this time, leaving him completely naked—tall, lean, toned. Tattoos stretched across his chest, down his arms. His cock was heavy and thick, standing up proudly, still slick from my mouth. He grabbed a condom from the table behind him—but I stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Don’t,” I said softly. His eyes locked on mine.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m clean. On the pill. I want to feel all of you.”

His jaw clenched. “Fuck, you’re gonna ruin me.”

He climbed back onto the couch, pulling me into his lap again. This time, we were both naked. Skin against skin. He lined himself up with one hand, the other gripping my waist.

“Take it slow,” he murmured. I did. I sank down on him inch by inch, gasping at the stretch, the burn, the way he filled me up so deep I thought I might break.

He kept eye contact the whole time. “Look at you,” he said. “Taking it so well.”

I whimpered when I bottomed out, thighs shaking.

“So fucking tight,” he growled. “You weren’t made for this, were you?”

I moaned. “Maybe I was made for you.” That broke something in him.

His hands gripped my hips, and he started to move—slow thrusts upward that hit just right. I rocked against him, chasing friction, rolling my hips as he fucked up into me.

“Say my name,” he ordered.

“Harry.”

“Louder.”

“Harry.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So fucking good,” I gasped. “You’re so deep—fuck—it’s so good.” His hand came up to my throat, not squeezing, just holding.

“You’re gonna come like this?” he asked. “Like a needy little slut in my lap?”

I nodded frantically. “Yes—please, I need it—I need to come—”

“Then come.”

I shattered. The orgasm hit like a wave, crashing through me in pulses that left me crying out his name, clinging to him, hips still rocking even as I trembled. He held me through it, whispered praise into my ear.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “So fucking good for me.” But he wasn’t done. He flipped me over onto the couch, face-down, ass up. “Not finished with you yet,” he growled.

He slid back into me easily, grabbing my hips and fucking into me hard now—rough, deep, animalistic. My cheek pressed against the cushion, mouth open as he pounded into me.

“You want it rough?” he panted. “You want to feel how hard you made me?”

“Y-yes—fuck—yes—”

He slapped my ass, hard. “Say you love it.”

“I fucking love it.”

“Say who’s fucking you.”

“Harry—Harry’s fucking me—please don’t stop—”

He leaned over me, one hand tangled in my hair, the other holding my throat as he fucked me from behind. Skin slapping, breath ragged, everything filthy and perfect.

“Gonna come on you,” he groaned. “Wanna see you dripping.”

“Yes,” I begged. “Do it—please—come on me—”

He pulled out just in time, stroking himself fast before spilling hot all over my lower back and ass, groaning through gritted teeth. I lay there, trembling, dripping, wrecked. Breathing like I’d run a marathon.

He exhaled a long breath, letting it hang in the quiet between us. The only sound now was the soft hum of the camera still rolling. The red light blinked steadily, like it had witnessed every filthy, raw second of what just happened. Harry sat back, eyes scanning over me like he wasn’t sure if he was done yet—or just trying to memorize how I looked. Wrecked. Flushed. My hair a mess. My thighs still trembling.

“Stay there a sec,” he said, voice a little rougher than before.

I blinked up at him, cheek still pressed to the couch cushion, and nodded. He disappeared for a moment and came back with a warm towel. He didn’t rush—just knelt beside me, gently wiping me clean, taking his time like he actually cared. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was just good at playing the part. But something about the way his fingers grazed my skin, soft and unhurried, made my chest ache.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, gaze flicking up to mine.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… that was a lot.”

A slow grin pulled at his mouth. “Good lot or bad lot?”

“Really good.”

He handed me the towel and stood up to grab water bottles. When he tossed one to me, I caught it with shaky hands.

“You looked like you’ve done that before,” he said, sitting down beside me again—close, but not touching.

“I haven’t,” I replied, twisting the cap off. “Not like that.”

He raised a brow. “You sure?”

I smiled. “Trust me. I’d remember if someone ever made me feel like that before.” He went quiet, watching me sip.

“You ever actually plan on watching the footage?” I looked at him. At the blinking red light still recording.

“I kind of want to,” I admitted.

He nodded slowly. “I’ll show you mine… if you come back and film another one.” I stared at him, half smiling, half stunned.

“You saying that to everyone who comes through here?”

“Nope.” He leaned in just slightly, voice lower. “Just the ones who moan my name like they mean it.”

I laughed, flushed, and shook my head. “You’re dangerous.”

He smirked. “Only on camera.” I didn’t believe that for a second. But I wanted to find out.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #pornstar!harry #masterlist

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the-offside-rule · 7 months ago

Text

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Paddock Pup

Day 3 of Christmas

Prompt: New puppy

25 Days of Christmas

Lando was practically buzzing with excitement as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. After three grueling weeks away, and that horrible race in Qatar to end it, he was finally home. Home to her. Y/n. His girlfriend who never failed to make him smile, even during the most exhausting moments.

As he opened the door, the familiar scent of their shared space welcomed him. But something else caught his attention—a large, neatly wrapped box sitting on the floor near the coffee table. His brows furrowed as he stepped inside. "Babe?" He called out, scanning the room. That’s when he noticed her phone propped up on a nearby shelf, its camera clearly recording. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as Y/n rounded the corner behind him. "What’s this? Are you pranking me again?" Y/n appeared, her grin wide and mischievous. "No prank this time, I promise." She said, though her tone betrayed her excitement. He pointed to the box. "Then what’s this about?"

"Just open it!" She urged, bouncing slightly on her toes. "Why do I feel like this is a trap?" Lando muttered, stepping closer to the box but hesitating. He crossed his arms, eyeing her. "You open it, and I’ll watch." Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Fine. But you’re missing out." She knelt beside the box, carefully peeling back the tape. "I'm not missing out on anything I don’t-" Just as she lifted the lid, a tiny bark filled the room. Lando froze, his eyes widening as the realization hit him. "You did not." He whispered, practically shoving her aside to get a better view.

Inside the box sat the fluffiest black-and-white puppy, its tiny tail wagging furiously. Lando’s jaw dropped as he reached in, carefully scooping up the small dog. "Oh my god!" He breathed, holding the puppy close to his chest. His voice softened as he spoke to the pup. "Hi there, little one. Where did you come from, huh?" Y/n watched with a fond smile as Lando’s usual cool demeanor melted into pure adoration. He turned to her phone, holding the puppy up for the camera. "Look at this! A puppy! Y/n got me a puppy!"

"What do you think?" Y/n asked, her arms crossed as she leaned against the sofa. "Oh I love her." Lando said immediately, his grin so wide it could rival the sun. "What’s her name?"

"Oreo." She replied, giggling as Lando mouthed the name back over how cute it was. "Because of her black and white fur."

"Oreo? She's so-" Lando repeated, testing the name as he cradled the puppy in his arms. "It’s perfect." Then, as if remembering something, he looked back at her with a puzzled expression. "Wait, what are we going to do with her? We’re leaving for Abu Dhabi tomorrow. What are we gonna do with her?" Y/n’s grin widened. "Don’t worry. I got her a puppy passport, and I already booked my seat to include a dog." Lando’s mouth fell open. "You’re kidding." She shook her head. "I planned everything while you were in Qatar. She’s all set to travel with us."

Lando let out a squeal, his excitement manifesting in little kicks. "You’re the best. Like, actually the best." He turned back to Oreo, lifting the pup into the air. "Paddock pup!" Y/n laughed, sitting beside him as Lando continued gushing over the puppy. "Was it a nice prank?" She asked. "Oh the best ever. Thanks for the early Christmas present."

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cinnamon7girl7 · 1 month ago

Text

"DAD IN TRAINING"

The house was silent.

A soft breeze slipped through the half-open window, gently moving the white curtains in the bedroom. It was early, very early, and even though the sun hadn’t fully decided to rise, the sky was starting to be painted a pale blue. Everything seemed calm.

Except you.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand over your stomach and the other holding your phone, checking Satoru’s message for the umpteenth time. He was at a dangerous meeting, one of those with the three clans that led the jujutsu society, the kind that didn’t allow much communication or promises of coming back unharmed. Even so, he had sent you a short message before leaving:

“Be back soon. I love you. Take care.”

Three words that usually were enough to let you sleep peacefully. But this time… this time something didn’t feel right. You felt morning sickness. Scents you used to love made you nauseous. Yesterday, your favorite breakfast made you sick. You had ignored the first symptoms, thinking they were stress or fatigue, but now… now you couldn’t pretend anymore.

You didn’t know yet, but Megumi did.

—Are you okay? —he asked from the door, his tone quiet but full of care.

You flinched a little. Megumi had that habit of appearing silently. You had raised him since he was a child, you knew all his expressions, but lately, he had been… different. More attentive. Quieter. More observant.

—Yeah, just… dizzy —you answered, trying to smile.

He nodded, without asking anything else. But as he walked away, heading down the stairs toward the kitchen, his thoughts were a whirlwind.

Hours before, he had gone into the bathroom looking for a towel and saw it.

The test. Tossed in the small trash can beside the sink.

Positive.

Megumi had frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask you. He didn’t confront you. He just walked out of the bathroom with a frown and a head full of plans.

He knew it wasn’t his place to say anything. He knew you had to be the one to tell Gojo.

But in the meantime…

In the meantime, he would do whatever he could to make sure that white-haired idiot was ready for what was coming.

—Satoru… —Megumi looked at him seriously, arms crossed as they walked down the forest path after a routine class exorcism—. Have you ever thought about becoming a dad?

Gojo nearly tripped over his own feet.

—What? —He let out a nervous laugh, adjusting his glasses—. Where is that question coming from all of a sudden? Is someone pregnant? Nobara? Maki? Utahime?

Megumi shot him a glare.

—No one, idiot. It’s a general question.

—Phew, thank god. Well, I don’t know… I guess I think about it sometimes. But I don’t know if I’d be a good father.

—You should start learning. You never know.

Satoru glanced at him sideways, puzzled. Megumi was usually blunt, but that… that had sounded like something more.

—Do you want me to start training as a dad or what?

—Maybe I do —Megumi said, very seriously—. There are things an adult should know.

—Like… changing diapers?

—Exactly.

—And why do you think I’m going to need that?

—For your own good. Because if you ever want to have a family, you’re going to need to know more than just how to exorcise curses.

Gojo looked at him with a raised eyebrow, still wearing a playful smile… but with a seed of doubt slowly planting itself.

—Are you planning something again?

Megumi sighed.

—No. But we start tomorrow. I’ll see you at the dojo at six.

—What? Physical training? —Gojo lit up with excitement—. A sword battle? Mind games?

—You’re going to learn how to hold a baby.

—…No.

—Yes.

—No.

—Yes.

Gojo frowned like a kid who’d just had his dessert taken away.

—You’re acting weird, Megumi —he said, pouting.

—And you’re too old for this.

And that’s how it all started.

The next morning, Gojo arrived at the dojo in his usual uniform, thinking Megumi was joking. But when he entered, he found a box with a baby doll that cried when its stomach was pressed, toy diapers, a bottle with warm water, and a little blanket.

—…What the hell is this?

—Your training.

—Am I going to be a babysitter?

—No. You’re going to learn how not to traumatize a real baby.

—There isn’t even a real baby!

Megumi looked at him in silence.

—Start by holding it without snapping its neck.

Gojo pursed his lips.

—I’ll remember this when you become a father.

—And I’ll be ready —Megumi replied.

Gojo sighed dramatically, picked up the doll as if it were a bomb, and muttered:

—You win, little dictator.

The following days were an adorable mess.

Yuji showed up at the dojo one day and nearly choked laughing when he saw Gojo practicing how to wrap the doll in the little blanket.

—Sensei, are you rehearsing for a play?

—I’m training to be a dad, you ungrateful brat! —Gojo snapped while the doll let out a high-pitched squeal.

—Is your wife expecting a baby?

—NO! I mean… I don’t know… it’s just training!

—Then why do you have vomit on your shirt?

Gojo looked at his clothes. The doll had “spit up” some water on him.

Nobara found out and decided to join in. She taught him how to change diapers with surgical precision and forced him to practice on a doll dressed in a tutu.

—This is humiliating —Satoru muttered as she corrected him.

—Shut up and learn. You’re doing it for love, right?

Gojo froze.

For love.

Yeah… for love.

He didn’t know why, but there was a little voice in his head telling him this was going to be useful soon.

And that Megumi knew more than he was saying.

—You know? —said Gojo while trying to heat up a baby bottle using the boiling water technique (which clearly meant placing it next to a fire curse, and it didn’t end well)—. I’m getting good at this.

—Don’t get too excited —Megumi replied, taking the bottle that was already half melted—. If this were real, you would’ve already poisoned your own child.

—Come on! I’m making progress!

Megumi watched him with his arms crossed. The guy who had forgotten to wash his socks for three days could now change a diaper in under two minutes. Fast, clumsy, and speaking in a squeaky voice to a plastic doll… but with a sweetness that almost broke his heart.

He knew. Satoru had no idea he was training for something real, but his body, his soul, and his smile were giving it their all. Because somehow, he felt he needed to be ready.

And that made Megumi respect him even more.

—You know you talk in your sleep? —Megumi said the next day, while helping him practice how to rock a cradle.

—Seriously? What do I say?

—You said, “Don’t put sugar in the bottle, love, it’ll cause cavities…”

—…Huh? —Gojo froze with the doll in his arms—. I said that?

—Yeah. You also said, “We’re gonna have to move to a place with a yard.”

—That already sounds like a nightmare —Gojo joked… but then he fell silent.

Why was he dreaming about that?

Why, all of a sudden, did that idea not seem so impossible?

Yuji found him again a couple of days later in the yard, trying to tie a baby carrier on his back with instructions in Japanese, English, and French.

—Sensei, are you okay?

—No. I’m raising a soulless demon —Gojo lifted the doll—. It has spit on me four times today.

—Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?

—This thing is possessed! POSSESSED! It cries if you don’t hold it the way it likes!

—That… that’s kind of cute.

—Don’t say that! It’s winning!

Yuji burst out laughing while Nobara joined them and started recording everything with her phone.

—This is going straight to the group! —she shouted—. “The strongest sorcerer of the modern era, defeated by a plastic baby.”

—BETRAYAL!

A few days later, the others found out too: Panda, Maki, Yuta, and Inumaki. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t know that Satoru Gojo was undergoing a mysterious and very suspicious fatherhood training.

—Is your wife pregnant and you don’t know? —Maki asked, raising an eyebrow.

—She’s NOT! I think! Or at least not that I know! —Gojo yelled, his cheeks flushed.

—That makes it even more suspicious —murmured Panda.

—Takana? —added Inumaki with a curious expression.

—NO!

While everyone laughed, Megumi watched it all with a resigned sigh.

They were very far from understanding, but that made it even more fun.

And somewhere in his heart, he felt they were getting him ready. For the day that truth would come to light.

One night, while walking down the dormitory hallways, Satoru looked at Megumi silently.

—Hey, do you think I’d be a good dad?

Megumi stopped. His shadow stretched long on the wall.

—Yes —he answered without hesitation—. You’re clumsy, talk too much, and make dumb jokes. But you have a huge heart. And you’d do anything for those you love.

Satoru smiled, a bit softer than usual.

—Thanks, Megumi. That means a lot coming from you.

—You don’t have to thank me —Megumi replied—. Just… try not to mess it up when the time comes.

Gojo looked at him confused.

—“The time”? What time?

Megumi just patted his shoulder and kept walking.

—You’ll see.

The night fell without asking for permission.

The sky over Tokyo was heavy with clouds, as if the universe knew something was about to change. And you felt it in your chest… for days now.

The secret twisted inside you between your ribs, fluttering like a butterfly eager to break free.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted him to know. You needed him to know.

You still didn’t know how.

Or when.

But you knew it had to be soon.

Satoru returned that early morning.

As soon as he crossed the dorm door, you searched for him with your eyes and ran to him. His arms wrapped around you like a refuge. His body was warm from the cold, his clothes damp from the drizzle, but his smile… that smile was still your home.

—Hello, love —he murmured, and kissed your forehead—. I’m back.

—Welcome —you whispered against his chest, eyes closed—. I missed you.

—I missed you too.

He could have kissed you longer. He could have told you a thousand things. But he just stayed holding you, as if the world could fall apart in that moment and he would still be there, with you.

And then you knew it was now.

You told him at dawn.

The golden light came through the window, dyeing his white hair with flashes of fire. He was lying on the bed, in a T-shirt and sweatpants, with a bag of sweets and the baby doll on the table.

You sat down across from him, silently.

—Satoru...

He turned his face toward you. He smiled, calm. But his eyes filled with curiosity.

—What’s wrong, darling?

You took a breath.

—I’m pregnant.

...

The world froze.

Satoru said nothing. He didn’t move. He just looked at you. Fixedly. With wide eyes and an expression that was a mix of disbelief, astonishment, and something deeper. As if something inside him had clicked.

And then, his voice came out barely a whisper:

—Really?

You nodded. Your lips trembled.

—I found out recently. I wanted to tell you, but you were busy and... I was scared.

Satoru sat up silently and came closer. He held your face with both hands, trembling. His eyes were glassy. He realized Megumi knew before you dared to say it. But he never betrayed you.

—Love... —he murmured—. That explains everything.

You blinked.

—Everything... what?

And then he let out a small shaky laugh. He hugged you. Tight. Full of an emotion so pure it made your throat close up.

—Now I understand why Megumi made me practice with that damn doll! Why he talked to me about bottles and lullabies and told me I had to treat you nicely! I thought he had gone crazy! And it turns out...!

—I knew everything from the start —you laughed through tears.

—Exactly!! He already knew!! Love! My own son was secretly training me!!

—Our son —you corrected quietly.

Satoru was silent for a moment.

Then he hugged you again, stronger, closer.

—I love you —he whispered, voice breaking—. I love you both. I don’t know what I’m going to do, I don’t know if I’ll be the best father in the world, but I swear I’ll try. For you. For the baby. For our family.

You hugged him back.

The future was uncertain. But the love that surrounded you was not.

And while he hid his face in your neck and you stroked his hair tenderly, you knew everything was worth it.

Everything.

—Megumi Fushiguro!! —Gojo shouted from the hallway as if announcing the end of the world—. You knew!! YOU TRAINED ME IN SECRET!!

Megumi didn’t even turn from the sofa. He was calmly drinking his juice, with a look that said, “I’m not paid enough for this.”

—I thought it was responsible —he said, shrugging.

—Responsible?! You made me carry a doll with a crying sensor and radioactive diapers without telling me it was my real son in practice version?! That’s emotional manipulation!!

—Call it whatever you want. It helped you, didn’t it?

Gojo fell silent.

He turned to you, who were sitting at the table, eating a tangerine with a suspiciously amused smile.

—Did it help you or not? —Megumi repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Gojo puffed out his cheeks like an offended child.

—I’m not going to admit it that easily!

But he walked over to you, went around your chair from behind, kissed your neck with a silly smile, and rested his cheek on your shoulder.

—It did help me —he whispered, defeated—. Damn responsible teenager...

Megumi let out a barely audible chuckle. Almost a miracle.

The following days were… a spectacle.

Gojo had taken his new “training” way too seriously.

—Okay, love —he’d say with a notebook in hand and fake glasses he wore just to look wiser—. Today’s intensive class is about names. What do you think of Gojo Hana?

—I think not.

—And Gojo Akari? It means “bright.”

—Satoru…

—Okay, okay. What if we name them Megumi 2.0?

—Are you trying to get Megumi to throw a kunai at you?

—Maybe...

He practiced lullabies with Nobara, whom he somehow convinced that yelling at a baby rhythmically counted as a valid form of art.

With Yuji, he tested diapers on melons.

Literally.

He even convinced Momo Nishimiya to let him carry her around wrapped in a blanket while he walked through the school saying:

"Shhh, baby, shhh! Daddy’s here!"

The students were divided between horror, laughter, and genuine tenderness.

And you… well, you watched him with eyes full of love, laughter, and tears.

Because seeing Satoru like that—so him, yet so new—made you feel like the world could be a safe place, even in the midst of chaos.

One Sunday afternoon, you found him in the garden with Megumi.

They were lying on the grass. The sky was blue, almost cloudless.

—Do you think I’ll do well? —Gojo asked quietly.

—Yes —Megumi replied without hesitation—. Because this time, you have something you didn’t have before.

—What?

—Motivation.

Gojo was silent.

Then he smiled.

—And a good teacher, huh?

—That too.

—And a beautiful wife, perfect, the best in the universe…

Megumi rolled his eyes.

You approached and sat next to them. Gojo pulled you close immediately, resting his head on your belly, as if he was already listening to the baby’s heartbeat from there.

—Hi, I’m your dad —he whispered with a goofy smile—. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I promise I’m going to give you all my love. And candy. Lots of candy.

—Satoru…

—Only if you approve, sweetheart, I swear.

Megumi smiled from his corner.

Gojo closed his eyes.

And you, stroking his hair while he hugged your belly, felt like life could start anew.

Because you were surrounded by love.

Chaos, yes.

But above all, love.

And that was the best training possible for the future.

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borathae · 3 months ago

Text

↳ Index [Snippet #57 - Tentacles]

“When you and Jungkook test out your new tentacle dildo.”

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life, Smut, Fluff in the beginning

Warnings: domestic sweetness, they’re couple goals, Bamie being their cute son, Kook being a dork, the next warnings are for the smut, switch!Kook, switch!Reader, but the D/s dynamic is very minimal, this is about a couple in love taking turns to make the other feel good, but he calls her Mistress when he gets really into it, pussy fingering & clit play to get her ready, making out, being totally lost in the moment, use of a tentacle dildo, sharing of said dildo, they take turns with it, use of lube, first she penetrates her pussy with it, then he fucks his ass with it, hand job, nipple play, neck kisses, some drool, mutual masturbation, praise, dirty talk, wet & messy orgasms, squirting for both, cuddly aftercare, they’re in love <3

Wordcount: 6.5k

a/n: anonie, your enthusiasm about this wip made me finish it, hehehe, so this one's for you <3 honestly it’s so horny, enjoy besties 🧡 i fucking love this koo so much omfg my comfort koo for life <3

You are using your laptop by the kitchen table for a change. A bowl of salted peanuts and a glass of white wine is keeping you company. You can hear Bam playing with one of his squeaky toys in the living room. The constant squeaking should annoy you, but it doesn’t. It has become part of your life, serving as a nice background reminder that Bam was happy.

You take a sip of the white wine, scrolling down the webpage you currently find yourself on.

“Doing some online shopping?” Jungkook asks, coming into the kitchen to get his workout drink. He spent the afternoon drawing in his hobby room and plans on doing his boxing workout now.

“Yeah, just browsing for some stuff”, you answer him, not looking up.

He comes up behind you, bending down to kiss your neck and hug you. Such affection is a daily occurrence from him, which means that you don’t let it distract you from your shopping. It is still really nice and exciting, don’t misunderstand.

“That’s nice. What stuff?” he asks.

“Just some more lube and toy cleaner. We’ve run out. Hey, do you think that we should get a tentacle dildo?”

Jungkook falters. He finally looks at the screen, eyes widening at the rows of silicon dicks looking back at him.

“Oh my god, you’re doing dick shopping in our kitchen?” he gasps.

“I guess”, you say and chuckle at his use of words.

“What the hell, baby?”

“In my defence, I only wanted to get lube and cleaner first, but fell down a rabbit hole. Remember the alien dick conversation we had?”

“I guess? I don’t know. Not really, no.”

“Either way, I got a tentacle dildo on the front page and now I’m here. On the fantasy dildo page, thinking how hot it would be to own one. Should we get one?”

“Wait a minute. I need to sit down and see the options.”

And like that, his boxing workout has to wait as you and he spend a good hour deciding on which tentacle dildo to get.

Jungkook is home when the package arrives. You are still at the restaurant, working hard.

Jungkook is working on a tattoo in his room when the doorbell rings. He tells Bam to stay and hurries to the door to check who was interrupting him. He thanks the postman and wishes him a good day, then he hurries to the living room.

He takes out his phone and dials your restaurant’s number. Then he stands by the living room window, looking outside with one hand on his hips.

“Hello, you’ve reached ___’s Bistro, Joe speaking. How may I help you?” one of your employees picks up.

“Hey, Joe. Here is Jungkook speaking. Can I talk to ___, please?”

“Yo hey, Jungkook man. Yeah, right away”, he says and calls out to you, “hey, ___! Jungkook’s asking for you!” He speaks to Jungkook again, “she’s on her way.”

“Thanks, man.”

A few moments of silence. The restaurant sounds busy in the background.

“Thanks Joe. Hey, sweetie”, you suddenly say.

“Is Joe gone?”

“Yes, he’s back to working. Why?”

“Baby, I need you to come home immediately.”

“Why? What happened? Are you okay? Is Bam okay?”

“The dildo arrived.”

“Wow okay. Thanks for making me have a heart attack. You can’t just say that to me after calling the restaurant. I thought that an emergency had happened.”

“This is an emergency. I really wanna open it and look at it.”

You laugh, “you’ll survive.”

“No, I won’t. Please sweetie, come home.”

“I would love to, but the restaurant is really busy. It’s probably gonna get late today.”

“Nooo babyyyy, why would you say that?”

“I’m sowwyyyy, I swear I don’t want it either. But it’s Friday and payday for most. People want food.”

“And I want my wife.”

“Just play your Sims until I’m home.”

“No, I’ll sit by the door and whine. Like a dog.”

You laugh, “okay do that, puppy.”

He grins, “please don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll try. You can open the package already if you want to.”

“No, I wanna do it with you.”

“Okay, okay.” More noise in the background. “I really gotta go now. We got more customers.”

“Yeah, okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The call ends. Jungkook huffs out air in frustration. Never in his life has he missed you as much as he misses you right now. For just a second, he even considers driving to the restaurant just so he can watch you work.

Bam stubs his leg. Jungkook looks at him and pets his head.

“I know, Bamie. I miss her too. Stupid payday, it’s always busy then.”

Bam whines, showing Jungkook the tennis ball in his mouth.

“Should we play some fetch? Okay, let’s go to the beach.”

Jungkook stays down by the beach until Bam is basically tired enough that he barely manages to get up the stairs. Jungkook cleans him in the garden and prepares cold water for him to drink as he makes dinner.

He texts you if you want to eat dinner at home to which you say that you already ate at the restaurant. So Jungkook makes himself a quick meal, eating by the table while Bam eats his dinner as well. You text him again as he eats.

- Wifey ♡: It’s still busy here :( I’m sorry…

- Jungkook: Don’t apologise ♡ I’m sorry that it’s busy :( sending you lots of energy ♡

- Wifey ♡: Yay thank you ♡

Because it will still take you some time, Jungkook decides to go for one last digestion walk with Bam. Afterwards the poor Doberman is so tired that he falls asleep on Jungkook’s lap during his night time routine. Of course you and Jungkook have a night routine for Bam, which consists of wiping down his fur, moisturising his paws and brushing his teeth. Jungkook leaves out Bam’s “jammies” tonight, sending him straight to his crate. Bam merely manages to snuggle up against his emotional support dinosaur plushie and then he is already fast asleep.

“Sleep, my baby. Daddy loves you so much”, Jungkook whispers and sends him a hand kiss, afterwards he leaves Bam’s room. Just in time with you arriving home. Jungkook hurries to the door and sits down. He has a plan. To make you laugh.

Not long after he sat down, the door to the garage unlocks. You step inside and stop, eyes falling to Jungkook sitting on the floor and whining.

“Seriously?” you say, having to laugh loudly. You stumble, knees giving up and so you end up on the floor as well.

Jungkook laughs with you, closing the distance to touch your arms.

“Did you actually sit here and whine all day?”

“Of course I did”, he jokes, only making you laugh harder.

You hug him, muffling your happiness in his shoulder. Jungkook hugs you back, feeling on cloud nine. Making you laugh will never ever lose its magic.

“Oh god, you. This just wiped away all of the stress I felt.”

“I’m glad. I guess I don’t have to ask how your day was.”

“It was stressful, but not bad. Still glad to be home now and to have three free days ahead of me.”

“I know, me too.”

“How was your day?”

“Lonely without you, but still good. I was at the beach with Bam almost all day. He’s basically dead in exhaustion. He even snored when I left the room.”

“Aww Bamie, so cute. Our son. I bet he had such a good day running around.”

“He did, yeah.”

You and he stand up together, exchanging a loving kiss. He helps you out of your jacket and carries your bag for you.

“So did you really wait with the package?”

“Of course I did. I wanted to look at it with you.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“No, I wanted to. It’s important to me that we unpack it together.”

“You’re cute. Let me just wash my hands real quick. I feel disgusting.”

“Okay.”

You join him in the living room in comfortable clothes. You sit down next to him.

“Ready?”

“So ready.”

He takes the package and scissors. You scoot closer, watching him open the box.

Some packing peanuts, the receipt, the toy.

“Wooaah”, you and he gasp at the same time, eyes widening.

“This looks so realistic.”

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Take it out of the package, I wanna touch it.”

You and he hold the toy together.

“Wooaaah.”

It is purple in colour and with a good length. Around twenty centimetres with a growing girth. The tip is just a little thicker than Jungkook’s thumb, while the base is around the size of his wrist. The silicon feels soft and very high quality and it has no scent to it, which is always a good sign.

“Run your thumb over the suckers, they feel so realistic”, he says.

“They do. Wow. Do you think that we can feel them?”

“I hope so. That’s lowkey the point.”

“Me too. It’s actually so long. My cooch is not gonna handle that well.”

“Yeah, it’s big. I feel like I’m gonna struggle too.”

“Right. We can take it slow.”

“Definitely.” He glances at your face. “Should we do it tonight?”

You meet his eyes.

“Okay no, you don’t want to. That look told me everything I needed to know.”

“Sorry, I’m really tired.”

“Don’t apologise. We looked at it, that’s already enough for me. Whenever you’re in the mood.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, sounds good. Should we shower and then watch a movie and cuddle?”

“Yes, this sounds amazing. I’m sorry that I’m not feeling it tonight.”

“Apologise again and I’m biting you.”

You chuckle, “okay fine.”

It is around four in the afternoon the next day when Jungkook seeks you out. He was in the garden before that, while you lounged on the beach. He sits down next to you, calling your name. You open your eyes.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, you.” He rubs your arm. “Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if maybe you are in the mood?”

You sit up, “you’re horny? Now?”

“Not horny, just really curious.” He pouts. “I just wondered, you know, it’s been almost a day and yeah. Yesterday, you said you wanna do it tomorrow. And today is tomorrow and yeah.”

“Did you already clean out and everything?”

“No, I would do it now if you said yes.”

“You know what? I am down, actually. Once we’re ready, it’s gonna be later anyway, so why not start already? Should I clean out downstairs?”

“Whatever you want. I’m flexible.”

“Then let’s do it like that.”

“Yes, I’m so happy right now.”

You and he pack up and then go home to get ready.

You meet in the bedroom again, cleaned out and so ready. Bam is officially in his crate and the door is locked because you don’t want to be disturbed. Slow RnB music is playing and you have the thin curtains drawn closed to shield away some of the sunlight.

You are naked, laying out your waterproof sheets, when Jungkook comes outside.

“Oh. Hey. Yay, matching outfits”, he greets you.

“You’re looking good in it, my handsome.”

“Says the right one, my beautiful”, he flirts back and closes the distance in confident steps.

It is so sexy to be naked together when the near future offers pleasure. He connects his hands with your waist, running them down to your hips. His big, brown eyes race over your face and tits, sparkling in adoration.

“Hey”, he rasps.

“Hey”, you coo.

“You’re so sexy”, he says in a breathy whisper.

“Thanks. You’re so sexy too”, you say and run your hands from his abs up to his pecs.

“It feels good how you touch me.”

“Your body is perfect.”

He looks at your lips, “I’m really excited. How are we gonna do this?”

“I guess I go first and you go second? Because, you know, ass to pussy is never a good idea.”

“Right. We can’t have you catching something. Let’s have you go first. What do you need me to do to get you there?”

“Just kiss me and let me feel you on top.”

“Come here”, he says and fulfills your wish enthusiastically. He kisses you, picking you up just to lay you down on the sheets and climb on top.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath. The way he looks at you makes you feel like the most beautiful person to ever exist.

“Is this comfy?” he asks, touching your thighs gently. You have them around his hips to keep him close.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Let me know if you don’t want me to touch you somewhere. I’ll let my hands wander, yes?”

“Yes, don’t leave anything out please. Can I touch you everywhere too?”

“My body’s free real estate for you”, he jokes, making you laugh.

He smiles, chuckling, and kisses you.

“Idiot”, you murmur between kisses, fingers running through his hair.

“You love it”, he answers you, right hand running along your side.

“Mhhm, love it.”

“Baby…”

Perhaps it’s all the years together, but it is so much fun to turn each other on. It’s so easy and exciting and damn, do you love doing it. Today it’s especially nice because it’s such a perfect day for spontaneous sex.

The sun is warm and enters the bedroom in a yellowish glow because of your curtains. You are trapped in a cozy, sensual atmosphere, floating on the growing clouds of attraction. You left the balcony door open to let in the salty ocean breeze. The rushing of waves joins the music as much as the occasional call of a seagull does. This is paradise and it’s your daily life.

The realisation makes you pull him so much closer. His back ripples and tenses, his throat produces the loveliest of sighs. His skin feels like heaven. Soft and warm and so his’. Perhaps it is impossible to understand but you know the sensation of his skin these days. You could recognise him just by touch.

Jungkook runs his right hand from your shoulder down to your hip. He holds you there, pinning you down with just enough strength that you notice it. He is gentle in it however, giving you a tender roll of his hips which naturally grinds his dick over your tummy. He is already so swollen and hard.

“Fuck, Kook”, you break the kiss, gazing up at him with heavy eyes, “I need you to play with my pussy. I can’t do long make out sessions today.”

“Anything you need”, he says and puts two of his fingers into his mouth to get them wet.

Once happy with the results, he slips them between your legs, rubbing them up and down your sweet warmth. He is propped up on his hand for now, arm tense and keeping his weight up with little struggle.

You exhale in relief, eyelids fluttering. He lowers himself to his elbow and cups your cheek, making it so much better.

“Is this nice?”

You nod your head, “I love this moment.”

“Me too. You’re so beautiful in this light.” He traces your eyebrows and caresses your left temple. “My goddess.”

“Kiss me, I mean it.”

Jungkook moans softly, letting you pull him into a kiss. You control the tempo and intensity and he is so happy to follow. It feels so good. It’s been years since you shared your first kiss on top of the ferris wheel and it still feels as exciting as it did back then. Perhaps even more exciting because each kiss, each eager touch and tender lick is filled with memories of your life together.

Jungkook feels light-headed. He takes your left hand and pins it above your head in sync with his hips rolling against your inner thigh. He is leaking all over your skin because he is already rock hard. He gets hard so easily with you. He swears it’s because he loves you so much.

You run your right hand down his back until you can grab a good amount of his buttock. It makes him growl into the kiss and chase your thigh in a needy thrust. You love it so much. Being under him, having him hold your hand and fuck your thigh and goddamn, having him rub your pussy. You love this so much, leaking onto his fingers.

“More.”

Jungkook hums in understanding and buries his wet fingers in you. He is slow in it, so as not to hurt you.

A gasp breaks the kiss. You look at him with the neediest and sexiest face he has ever seen.

“Is this good for you?” he speaks in a low purr, eyes totally smitten for you.

“So good, ah.”

“Mhhhhm, I love your pussy”, he purrs and kisses you deeply. It is his turn to control the tempo, the intensity and fuck, is he passionate with it.

If you weren’t already entirely engrossed by him, you would have started to be right this moment. He tongue kisses you like he is doing it professionally, all while he curls and scissors his tattooed fingers deep inside you. And because this fucking bastard is amazing, he rubs his thumb up and down your clit, including a circle whenever he is right on top.

You swear that you will melt into a puddle because of him. These are the moments where you love his perfectionism. He is so stern with himself all the time, but it results in him having perfected pleasure. He touches you like it is his destiny and god, you might lose yourself.

You break the kiss, choking out your words.

“Stop right now. Stop.”

Jungkook freezes up.

“Pull your hand away. Now.”

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” he gasps, doing what he is told. He even sits up, panicking enough that his cock goes a little soft.

“Fuck this was close, what the heck.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Please don’t tell me that I hurt you.”

“No, I almost nutted.”

“Wow okay, then say that and not be so cryptic. I was so scared”, he pouts.

“Sorry, are you okay?”

“No, I need you to kiss me.”

You snicker, getting on your knees and closing the distance. You kiss him like this. Kneeling with him as your arms snake around his body and your tits melt with his pecs. His cock is between your tummies, getting rubbed so good that he grows hard again.

And Jungkook forgives you instantly, cradling you in his strong arms. He towers over you a little, resulting in you having to crane your neck and lean into him. He loves it so much, feeding you his needy sighs alongside his tongue.

Fuck, he is so into you. He growls and grabs your ass with both hands, doing it with such passion that you whimper and tremble. You twist his hair at the back, getting him dizzy and short of breath.

In return you feel light-headed and ready to crumble into a pile of horny mess. The way he is kneading your buttocks feels so good. Possessive and rough, which means you can feel it in your pussy as well. You press yourself so much closer to him, turning him on unbearably.

If this continues, he might ask you to forget about the dildo and fuck him instead. And because you and he are basically connected, you break the kiss just to mention said dildo.

“I need to sit on the tentacle now or I will never escape you.”

He chuckles breathily, “fuck, why are you so good at reading me?”

“Because I’m obsessed with you”, you flirt, sending his pulse into a frenzy.

He gives you his best and most loyal puppy eyes ever. You peck his lips and wiggle out of his arms.

“Are you excited to watch me?” you ask, getting the dildo ready. You put it into one of your strap-on harnesses and strapped it to a pillow to make it easier to ride.

“I’m so excited”, he confesses, watching you smear lube all over the purple tentacle. “Getting it wet sounds so sexy.”

“Right? I’m so curious how it’ll feel. Now silence, I need to concentrate.”

He gasps dramatically and holds his breath with his eyes big and his cheeks puffed out. He makes you laugh, setting him off too.

“You can breathe.”

“Just making sure.”

Giggling and laughing, you position yourself over the toy. Jungkook watches you, laughing and giggling just as much. How fucking good it feels to laugh with you during sex.

You get serious once you start playing with the tip however, taking your lower lip between your teeth and looking down at the toy.

Jungkook shares in your silence, breathing heavily because the view is so arousing to him.

You lower yourself, taking the toy easily. Just the tip. Down. Down. Down until the stretch comes. Stop.

“Fuck, this is… Woah fuck…”

“Is it good?”

More. Deeper.

“It’s intense. Woah” you writhe and reach down to touch your own tummy, “woah, this is deep. Oh my god.”

Jungkook presses his thighs together, mewling needily. Knowing that you are stuffed turns him on so much.

“Please try to move”, he begs and you do.

“Fucking hell, urgh”, you get out, throwing your head back and twisting the pillow. “What the fuck is that?”

“Is it good? Does it hurt?”

“It’s like I’m getting impaled by an alien or something”, you moan, rolling your hips on the purple tentacle needily. You try to lift your hips as well, resulting in your puffy cunt to slurp up the tentacle greedily. It sounds so wet and sinful. Looks like actual pornography.

“Baby, oh my god”, he whimpers, having to touch his own nipples because it excites him so much. He rubs his hands over them, all while his thighs are squeezing his balls for stimulation. He can’t stop looking at your pussy and how she gets impaled by the tentacle. She is stretching so much, weeping and slurping happily and Jungkook swears he will pass out at the view.

“Ah, Jungkook”, you moan, arching your back sensually, “Jungkook…baby…Jungkook…”

He can’t do this. He can’t just watch when you moan his name like this. He closes the distance and calls your attention by rubbing your arm.

You peel your eyes open and lift your head, gazing deep into his eyes.

“Does it make you think of me?”

“It feels so nice. Koo, I keep thinking of you as my alien lover.”

He moans. You whimper his name and drop down on the tentacle. It squelches sinfully, stretching your pussy addictively well. It doesn’t hurt, it just feels intense. This is the kind of stuffing that satisfies you to the very core. The kind of stuffing you want to keep chasing and chasing and chasing.

“Jungkook…”

He runs his eyes over your body, chest rising and sinking in a shaky breath. He lifts his hands, running them along your curves without actually touching you. The ghost of it tingles, making you crave his fingers on you.

“I really wanna touch you”, he whispers, eyes glued to your stuffed pussy.

“Please, do.”

He rests his left hand on your waist and slides his right hand between your legs. His fingers part your folds, finding your clit easily and picking up a sensual rhythm.

“Kook”, you moan shakily, resting your hands on his strong pecs. The toy feels a million times more intense now that he is touching you. The suckers keep grinding against your entrance, sucking and stimulating it sinfully well.

“You’re so soft”, he whispers, eyes racing between yours. His fingers draw circles on your clit, knowing exactly how much pressure and what speed you love. Of course they know. He touched you a million times before. Your body is a landscape he knows how to explore blindly. And he won’t ever grow bored of it, tingling in pleasure each time he rubs your clit.

With shaky fingers, you touch the nape of his neck. You pull his face down, moaning when your foreheads touch. The eye contact remains, the tension is electric.

“Sweetie”, he sighs, sliding his left hand to the small of your back. He loves how you tense as your hips dance on the toy.

“Koo, it feels so good”, you whimper, grasping his neck.

“I know it does. I know. I’m so happy. You’re so beautiful, my sweetheart.”

“Oh god, it feels so good.”

“Enjoy it. Focus on it. You deserve it.”

“Kiss me.”

Jungkook claims your lips as his’, moaning with you as you sink into the kiss. You convulse around the toy, grasping his face. His fingers speed up on your clit, sending trembles through your legs.

The kiss breaks just barely, but you needed to moan and gasp for air.

“Am I doing good?”

“Really, ah, re-really good.”

“God baby, I wanna live in this moment forever.”

“You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Good, so good. Focus on it, baby. Focus on the toy. How it’s inside you.”

“I can feel the suckers everywhere”, you mewl, twitching, “ah, Koo.”

“Good girl. Taking my tentacle so well. Mhm? Are you taking my tentacle well?” he taunts, wanting to play into your fantasy because it will get you off.

“Koo…” you whimper breathily, eyes going just a little cross.

“Good girl, such a good girl.”

Your hips have no true rhythm going on. All they are doing is rut and squirm and chase the orgasm. Your entrance is already so sensitive because of the tentacle. Your pleasure spots inside are throbbing and burning in ecstasy. And your clit pulsates each time he runs his skilled fingers over it.

His eye contact. The close proximity. His hand on your back. His dirty talk. The moans he shares with you. It is all too much. You are completely and utterly submerged in this moment. You exist for nothing but him and the pleasure you create together.

“I’m cumming.”

“Cum for me.”

“Koo.”

He moans into your mouth because you pull him back into a kiss. The moan turns into a throaty purr as you begin sucking on his tongue because this is all that you can manage during your orgasmic shakes.

This high is intense. It really, genuinely, weakens you. To the point where you fold in on yourself and your legs press together. You fall against Jungkook, forcing the kiss to break.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I’m here, hold onto me. I’m here.”

“Jungkoooooook”, you mewl, reaching between your legs to press his fingers closer. Your knees are twitching, legs squeezing together and walls throbbing around the tentacle. This isn’t over. This orgasm has layers to it, hitting you over and over again.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well. Cum on my tentacle, such a good girl.”

You sob, “ah-a-ah.” And then it happens. You squirt, messying the toy and your thighs. Truly, if Jungkook wasn’t holding you, you would have already collapsed.

“Oh my god, Yes baby. Yes. Squirt for me. This is so hot. Fuck, yes give me everything.”

His words help you ride it out. And it is glorious. To know that you have someone like Jungkook helping you through it, makes it so much better.

He rubs your clit until you pull his hand away. Brought to your limit, you instantly have to slip off the toy. The tentacle squelches loudly as it leaves you, flopping to the front. It glistens sinfully. Big globs of your orgasm are sticking to the suckers.

“I can’t, ah”, you get out and plop down in the mess.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe”, he talks you through the aftershocks, cradling your face with both hands.

“This was really intense.” You gulp, eyes glassy. “I’m shaky.” You exhale weakly. “Can I get a hug, please?”

“My baby, you cutie. Of course, come here”, he hugs you against him, rocking you softly. “Let me hold you, babygirl. I’m here.”

“Oh god, Koo.”

“Just lean on me. I’m here.”

His loving embrace helps so much. Because of it, you manage to come back safely. Oh, it is so comforting to be loved by him.

You lift your head, gazing at him.

“Hey, do you feel better?” he whispers, caressing your cheeks. It doesn’t matter to him that some time has passed. As a matter of fact, sharing this tender moment with you felt like paradise to him.

“Yeah, I feel happy. I can’t believe this just happened.”

“Me neither. I haven’t seen you this twitchy in some time.”

“I don’t know what happened. It felt so good.”

“It did?”

You nod your head. He exhales shakily.

“Not gonna lie, this makes me really needy.”

Your eyes glimmer.

“Do you wanna ride it?”

“I do. I really fucking do.”

“I’ll clean it.”

“Don’t.”

Your heart flutters.

“Fucking don’t clean it. I wanna know that I get to have you inside me. At least something of you.”

“Koo”, you get to your knees, cradling his face, “Koo, please ride it. I can’t wait to watch you.”

He nods his head and slips out of your touch. You scoot back a little to give him space.

“I hope I’ll like it too.”

“I’m sure that you will. This toy is definitely your style.”

“Fuck, I’m so excited.”

“Do you need me to prepare you somehow?”

“No, watching you get off was everything I needed. Besides, I’m wearing a plug.”

“That’s so hot.”

Jungkook reaches behind himself and pulls out the plug. He groans softly, leaking onto the sheets.

“Thank god we put the sheet down”, he says.

“Definitely. First me, now you. We’re so messy.”

He chuckles, putting aside the plug. He takes the tentacle and positions it under himself.

“I’m so ready to sit on it.”

“You will love it so much.”

He picks up more lube, spreading it on the toy.

“It’s so warm from you. And messy. I can’t wait, fuck.”

“Me neither, baby.”

He circles his loosened rim, staring down at himself. His lower lip is between his teeth, his brows are furrowed. You don’t want to breathe, gawking hungrily.

He lowers himself. The tip slips in.

“Ah.”

“Relax. Take it easy.”

More. He manages around seven centimetres and stops. A groan leaves him, followed by a “fuck”, and his head rolling back.

“Is this a it’s good fuck or a it hurts fuck?”

“An it’s more intense than I thought it would be fuck.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“I get you now. Oh my god what the fuck”, he chokes out, touching his tummy to check how much he takes.

A little more and he stops again, grasping the pillow for support. It squeezes his pecs together and makes his arms tense.

“___”, he moans, cock twitching and lungs working overtime to breathe.

You close the distance and hold his waist. He rolls his head to the front, meeting your eyes. His gaze is droopy and entirely smitten for you.

“I’m right here, baby. Just look at me when it gets too much.”

He moans your name, eyes fogging up and hips dropping further down on the slickened tentacle. Five more centimetres, and his mouth falls open. Not for long because he has to bite his lower lip in sync with him trying to rock on it. His brows tremble because they can’t decide whether to lift or furrow.

“Intense?” you ask, rubbing his waist.

He nods his head, rolling his lip between his teeth.

“Keep looking at me, baby. I’m here.”

He whimpers softly, cupping your cheek.

“I don’t know if I can slip off”, he confesses.

“Hurts?”

“It’ll feel so good. I can’t do this.”

“Just try, baby. For me.”

Jungkook furrows his brows and obeys. He slips off the toy.

“Ah!” He yelps and flinches. “O-oh my god. The texture.”

“It’s intense, isn’t it?”

“Yes” He squeaks, closing his eyes. He drops back down on the toy, lifting his hips instantly to pick up a needy rhythm.

“Just listen to you getting fucked. Your hole sounds so stuffed right now.”

“It feels so good. I feel every sucker. Ah. The girth. My hole is so….ah….filled.”

“That’s right. It’s so stuffed with me.”

He whimpers, legs shaking.

“Isn’t that right? You got my orgasm deep inside you, baby.”

“Please.”

“It’s coating your insides. I’m making you mine.”

“Please, shut up”, he keens, trying his hardest to cover your mouth with his hand. His palm is so warm and just a little sweaty.

You giggle, kissing his shaky fingers.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like me talking dirty to you?”

“Don’t want this to end. No orgasm. Not yet. Please.”

“Okay, okay sorry. Then let me watch you for a while.” You dance your hands over his body. “You don’t mind me touching you as you get fucked, do you?”

“Please”, he breathes out, dropping his head in defeat, “don’t stop touching me. It feels so good.”

He slings his left arm over your shoulder, using your other shoulder as his headrest. You rub his back, sliding your right hand to his cock.

“___”, his voice is squeaky and entirely drenched in pleasure. His hips tremble before getting so much sloppier on the tentacle.

Jungkook knew that you weren’t lying when you lost it on the tentacle, but he didn’t think that it was actually this intense. He has a very sensitive hole, even normal stimulation with your strap feels intense. To have something so intensely textured pound him over and over again is actually deeply overwhelming for him. He can feel each sucker his hole swallows, he can feel them trying to stay inside when he slips off and he can feel them digging their way back inside when he drops down. Because of its shape, most of the stretch stays by his hole. And there is always this one sucker which seems obsessed with his prostate.

“I get it. ___ my love, I get it.”

“You do? Do you like it?”

“Love it. Goddess, I’m yours. Please don’t ever leave me.”

The toy has him clingy. He must love it a lot. He only gets this way when the pleasure has infiltrated his brain as well and the only thoughts occupying his mind are thoughts of you.

“I’m not leaving you, Koo. Feel it, this is me making you mine. You’re on my mind”, you promise him, twisting your hand around his tip.

“___.”

He drops on the toy and stays down, hips suddenly rutting back and forth vigorously. You know this motion, you know the urgency of it. He turned cock dumb, trying oh so desperately to make himself climax. The only thing you can do is keep your hand still and talk sweet to him.

“Good boy. Make yourself cum. What a good boy you are. You’re made for the tentacle.”

“My nipples, please.”

You connect your left hand with his chest, playing with his nipple. His right one is a little more sensitive so you are paying attention to it. You rub and squeeze it, tugging on his piercing very gently whenever you feel like it.

“I’m cumming”, Jungkook whimpers and breaks with a sob. He shoots his load all over your hand and tummies, collapsing into you and scratching your upper back.

“That’s it. Cum for me. Good boy, give me everything. Cum for me”, you talk him through it, jerking his throbbing cock.

He sobs loudly, curling into himself because the orgasm reached his prostate. He doesn’t want to but he still spills translucent liquid all over your tummy. He can’t help it. You touch him just right.

“___!”

“Yes baby, squirt for me. Let the tentacle milk you. Good boy.”

“___, I can’t stop.”

“I know, let it happen. Don’t try to hold it in”, you encourage him, squeezing every single droplet out of him and Jungkook can do nothing more than give you everything his body can produce.

“Hurts”, he means it honestly once the high stops. He slips off the toy with shaking legs and drops into your arms.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“I’m shaky”, he whimpers, seeking your comfort by nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“I know exactly how you feel. Lean on me, it’ll pass soon.”

“Oh god, oh god…”

“I’m here, babyboy. I’m right here.”

The perfect thing about you and Jungkook is knowing that you can be each other’s comfort and not have it feel weird. He can be dominant and strong while you are shaky and weak. And in return you can be just as dominant and strong while he is shaky and weak. This is what makes you and him so fucking perfect for each other.

With your love, Jungkook recovers quickly. Soon, he feels strong enough to lift his head and meet your eyes.

“How are you doing?”

“Good, but vulnerable. I wanna hold you.”

“Let’s lie down.”

Your limbs tangle together so you can face each other. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glimmering prettily.

“I don’t know what happened.”

“Me neither. There must be crack on this toy.”

He laughs weakly, “seriously. At some point it felt alive inside me.”

“Right? And the sounds-”

“So wet. I tried not to listen because it would have broken me instantly.”

You agree with a nod and snicker. Jungkook smiles softly.

“I feel so droopy”, he confesses, dropping his hand on your cheek.

You melt into his touch, “you look droopy.”

He hums and closes his eyes. You scoot closer and kiss his nose.

“Just think of the day I peg you with it.”

He mewls, “don’t make me think of that, I’ll pass out.”

“Sorry”, you snicker and kiss his nose a second time, “I’m so happy that we bought this toy. I definitely wanna use it again.”

“Yeah me too.” He kisses your lips, mumbling a very heartfelt “I love you” against them.

“I love you too.”

“Wanna cuddle.”

You close the distance and snuggle into him. Jungkook purrs happily, hugging you against him.

“This was amazing”, he whispers, “it got me there so fast. I’m kinda sad it’s over.”

“I get you. I got there so fast too. Means we have to do it again soon.

“Yeah definitely.”

You snuggle him tighter, tracing mindless shapes on his back. He does the same along your spine.

“The sun’s starting to set”, you whisper.

“Nice. I love the sunset. Should we make pasta for dinner?”

“Pasta sounds amazing. And for dessert we can have ice cream.”

“Yeah, mint choco.”

“No, hazelnut choco.”

Jungkook smiles. Even years later, your favourite ice cream flavour hasn’t changed.

“I love you so much”, he whispers, wrapping his limbs around you to melt you into him.

“I love you too, but I’m gonna suffocate”, you whine, heart racing like crazy.

“Take it, I need to squeeze you.”

You laugh, letting it happen gladly. He is such a sweetheart.

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changisworld · 1 year ago

Text

Baby fever

Husband!Chan x reader

word count;3,200

Summary: Your husband, Bangchan has finally decided that he too wants a baby, after you constantly pestering him & getting it into how good parents you would both be.

-just HAD to write this after I got an ask about & then having my amazing 🪫 anon AGREEING which has now encouraged me to write this heheh,

18+, MDNI, SMUT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS: PIV, oral(f rec), B R E E D I N G kink, creampie, lactation kink if you squint, nipple sucking, slight dirty talk, channie is BBBIIIGGG, bulge kink, body worship, marking, lovemaking, praise, aftercare but more off screen, 99% smut 1% backstory :3

You & your husband, Chan are just strolling around Walmart, doing some grocery shopping for your fridge & cupboards & you both end up walking past the small clothes section & your eyes land instantly on the cute newborn baby onzies & cute baby packs of socks.

"Channieeee, how can you even look at this n not want a baby? the clothes are so teeny & adorable!" you cheer, looking at him with a big smile & doe eyes on your face & chan just looks at you & rolls his eyes, smiling at you as he reaches out to touch the baby clothes, looking at all the cute patterns on them.

"Shhh! It's not that I don't want a baby, It's just scary! You say the exact same quote every time we walk past anything to do with babies I can rehearse it!" He giggles before putting his hand up & splaying it across the little onzie, comparing the size to it.

"I know but I'm just dyyying for a baby! Would you prefer a boy or a girl? & you've been saying you'll 'think about it' for monthhhs! We'd be the best parents on earth n you know it, I've seen you with kids & you'd be the best dad evverrrrr!" you cheer back, reaching out to ruffle his soft black hair & he kneans into your touch.

"I wouldn't care if about gender as long as I got a mini us & I knowww but still! You've came off the pill so now we just gotta see if it happens, can you get us some tomatoes? We forgot to pick em up." He questions you, putting both hands back on the cart & giving you a kiss on your cheek, making you blush.

"Doesn't mean much if you pull out Channie! I'll grab five." you sigh as you leave your husband & walk to go get what he asked you to. Chan watches you leave before he looks back at some of the cute baby clothes & he picks up three different onzies in different stripes & also polka dot patterns, he also picks up a cute little white baby hat before he buries it underneath the small mountain of items still in the cart before making his way to the checkout, texting you to just put the tomatoes back & meet him at the car.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿･⭑✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ

"I didn't even realise that you'd asked me for tomatoes but while I was there I remembered you don't even like tomatoes!" You whine as you buckle in your seatbelt, turning to look at the man beside you, now laughing as he turns the key.

"I just wanted to see if you'd remember! You failed the test." he chirps back & you swat him on the arm jokingly & he just laughs at you again before driving back to your shared home.

The rest of the day goes without a hitch, Chan insists on putting the items away & you don't complain, deciding to just tidy up your shared bedroom instead, reorganising the room & making the bed before deciding to just do some laundry since you have the habit of letting it pile up.

You are sorting out your jewellery box, using your shirt to make each piece shinier before replacing each part, fully rearranging the box in front of you when your bedroom door opens & Chan enters the room, hands behind his back.

"Ah, what ya doin babe?" he questions, looking a bit antsy. "Just tidying, why? Wha'cha hiding?" you reply, your head nodding towards him, referring to whatever he is holding behind his frame.

"well eh, I couldn't decide if I was gonna hide it for a while longer or if I wanted to lay it on the bed with rose petals or something, make it all romantic but you caught me, can I do that or are you gonna be stubborn n make me show you now?" he hums to you & you frown your eyebrows at him, chuckling as you try move your head to see what is in his hands, but he is quicker & keeps moving his frame.

"You know me too well, I really am that stubborn, show meeee." you reply as you do as he asks of you anyway & you stand in front of him before closing your eyes & cupping your hands in front of the both of you.

He takes in a deep breath & you just know his hands are shaking behind is back. "Just know y/nnie, no pressure! I don't want you to feel like I'm putting you on the spot." he says in a soft voice as he places something in your hands.

You open your eyes after nodding at his words & look down & what is it you see? A few of the tiny baby onzies you were dreaming over just a few hours ago & an adorable tiny tiny baby hat laying on top of them.

You look up at Chan, nerves smeared all over his features, his adams apple moving through his throat as he swallows, not taking his eyes off you as his hands cup themselves over the outside of yours, his thumbs caressing your hands.

"Is this what I think this means, Channie?" you ask, your mind going at a million miles an hour & the butterflies in your stomach being that crazy you're convinced they're about to fly out of your mouth.

"Uh.. yeah, I've had my mind up for a while, just got a bit scared to directly say it I guess?" he replies, his cheeks a shade of rose pink as you can feel his hands slightly shaking & getting warmer against your as he keeps his on yours.

"Channie, you're so silly, there was nothing to be scared of when I've been begging you to knock me up!" you joke as you softly throw the small fabric on the chest of drawers beside you both before practically throwing yourself at him, connecting your lips together, he freezes for a second before melting into your touch & kissing you back passionately.

He ushers you towards the bed & you lay down once the back of your knees hit the edge of your bed & chan follows right behind you, putting his hand & forearm on the bed beside your head to hold up his weight as his tongue begins to break past your lips, tasting you deeper, which you have no problem reciprocating.

You worm your hands beneath one of his usual black shirts & you feel over his chiselled abs, making him squirm. "You really are desperate, aren'cha?" he teases as he takes the three seconds to take his top off before getting back into the same position he was in before, taking the time to admire your slightly reddened & spit glossed lips.

"Well why waste time when I've been begging for so long?" you chirp back as you wriggle yourself up the bed, making chan follow not long behind you.

Your husband just smirks at you before kissing the tip of your nose. "I love you, soooo much, you mean the world n more to me." he murmurs in a sweet tone to you before he begins to kiss your jawline before making his way down to your neck, nibbling on different spots of your neck before lightly suckling on the exact same parts of skin, leaving four dark red marks on the right side of your neck.

Chan bunches your shirt up at the top of your chest, not bothering to take it off as he wriggles himself downwards just an inch & begins to fondle your tits over your bra as he kisses the parts not covered by the fabric & you sit up just enough to unclasp it for him & he lets out a hum of approval before taking a look up at you, the both of your eyes completely full of lust, pupils blown out & your stomach does a flip.

He cups your right tit in his hand as he starts to tongue your left nipple, your nipples perking up even more than what the cold air caused. He takes it in his mouth & suckles on it, making your back arch off the bed & you let out a small hum as you let your fingers find their way into his hair, playing with it.

"Your tits are so perfect, can't even imagine these filled with milk, try save me some, alright?" he says, more to himself but he still takes the time to look up at you, his fingers not stalling on your right nipple before reattaching his pretty, pink, puffy lips to your nipple, sucking on it as if it's the last time he will ever do so.

"Channie with a lactation kink? who woulda guessed." you chuckle at him as he switches tit, repeating the action & you close your eyes, simply taking in the feeling.

He then stops his motions & gives yet another hickey to your left tit before kissing all the way down your stomach before pushing your shorts & underwear off your smooth legs without much struggle.

"How do you blame me, have you seen you?" he remarks back at your words, not even looking up at you this time as he now settles down at your legs before pushing them open, now looking at your pretty, now glistening cunt & he sighs, a dreamy look painting his features & your heart melts.

He wants to tease you but his own patience is wearing thin so after a few kisses to your thighs, working his way inwards, not missing the way you squirm & twitch beneath him as your thighs rest on his broad shoulders & he licks a long, slow stripe up your cunt which makes you shudder.

He uses the tip of his tongue to slightly tease you but mostly to get a deeper taste by licking the outside part of your folds before using his tongue to part them further before he works his way up to your clit & begins kitten licking it.

"Chan, like that, fingers please." you request, sucking a breath through your teeth, trying your best to stay still for him. "say please n I will" he teases to you before moving away from your clit, much at your disapproval & begins teasing your now leaking hole.

"Pretty pleaseee, Channie, please." You beg as you try push your hips towards him, giving him that little bit extra of your cunt on his lips & he obviously can't help but let out a muffled groan as he starts to grind his hips against the bedsheets, trying to ease even a tiny bit of the pressure in his cock as he listens to your pleas & enters his middle & index finger into your pussy, a small squelch being heard.

He picks up the pace on your clit as he begins to suck & nibble on it, not caring about how much spit is escaping his lips as his fingers match the same speed, doing a 'come here' motion & you begin grinding against his face, your hands reaching down to twist your nipples in your fingers as you begin to fall apart.

"Gonna cum channie, don't stop." you basically demand as your eyes scrunch closed & your legs close in on his head, but he doesn't budge & continues at the same speed, smirking into you & humming & moaning into you & your orgasm bubbles over not even five seconds later, moaning his name non stop.

He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue & fingers as he slowly slows down his movements until you begin to whine & he knows your body well enough to know it's the overstimulation setting in.

He pulls out his fingers & puts them up to his mouth & sucks the orgasm you just had off his fingers & groans to himself before licking his lips & then making his way back up to you & kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue & you whimper on his lips.

"Taste as good as always, do you still wanna do this Channie? You can still pull out if you have any doubts." you reassure him, cupping his cheek with your hand & moving your thumb back & forth, giving him a warm smile. "I'd never back out babe, especially now that it's out in the open, lemme put this baby in you, mkay?" he chirps, nuzzling into your touch before allowing you to sit up so you can take your top off & he strips too, his cock slapping against his lower stomach as he helps manoeuvre you towards the edge of the bed & stands between your legs, jerking himself a few times, his tip already shiny with the amount of precum that has been leaking for the past twenty minutes or so.

He gives you a warm smile & he reaches down to hold your hand, your wedding rings beside one another as he begins to slowly push in, knowing he can't go too quick as he is aware how big he is, he knows he needs to allow a lot of time to stretch so he doesn't make it hurt any more than needed since no matter how much prep he gives you, it still makes you hold your breath for a second.

He buries himself to the hilt & he pauses, letting you get adjust as he kisses your ring finger, making you both blush as you look at each other, nothing but love & adoration in both of your eyes.

"You can move, 'm ready." you softly speak & chan hums as he moves his hips before softly moving them forward again, both of you letting out a moan in unison. "you're so tight, y/n, I'm fully convinced you're made for me." He says in a hoarse voice, biting his bottom lip, making you clench around him.

He begins a medium pace, hitting your G-spot each time & you can barely catch your breath as you both make eye contact, not one of you daring to break it as you can both slightly hear the wet, squelching noises of your cunt wrapping around his cock over your shared moans.

"Chan-nie, you're in my s-stomach, fuck." you yelp as he changes his position slightly, hammering into your spongey spot & kissing your cervix in a painful yet addicting way.

"Hmm yea? I can tell, look at it sweetie." he groans back, slightly breathless as he stands up, pace not slowing as he takes the hand which he is still holding & placing it on your lower stomach & you can't help but get giddy as you can feel his cock in your pelvis, making you clench around your husband more than you already were, making his pace falter.

"Taking me so well, babe, see? too bad we won't get to see it in your pretty belly once my cum sticks, can't say I-I'd complain though." he basically whimpers as he leans back over you, taking your lips in his own as he continues to destroy your poor hole & you yelp into his mouth with how deep he is.

"C-I'm gonna cum, gim-gimme it." you shriek as your hands reach onto behind his back & you dig your nails into his back, refusing to let go & chan just groans into you as he kisses you again, muffling both of your moans but only slightly.

You begin clenching around his cock & he stands back upright to be able to take in the whole sight. He reaches down to rub your swollen button with his thumb & you don't even have the right mind to even be able to warn him before your second orgasm hits you like a brick wall & your legs begin shaking as your back arches & you let out a shriek as you cum, this time all over his cock, your orgasm so strong it almost pushes him out of your hole.

He doesn't falter his pace this time & continues at the same speed & rhythm, throwing his head back but not for long as he feels his own orgasm starting to bubble up.

He looks down at your pretty, reddened face, a small shimmer on your skin, your tits bouncing along with his thrusts as you pinch your nipples again, not breaking eye contact with you.

"Cha-channie, s-so big I-I swear to f-fuck, please c-cum in me, gim-gimme your baby." you whine up at him, trying your best to ignore the overstimulation he is giving you for the sake of his own release & mostly focusing on just trying to push the simple sentence out.

"Wou-wouldn't dream oth-otherwise, beautiful, your pretty belly gon-gonna be so full for me, I know it's gonna s-stick, you're t-too good for me, my angel." he says, breathless & he takes your left hand in his again & he sucks on two of your fingers as he lets his orgasm take over, having to use all his strength to keep himself standing as he lets his cum coat your walls, you taking in the feeling of it too.

Chan lets his own orgasm come & then pass before he slowly pulls out, not failing to notice how his dick is so shiny you'd think he put lube on it & he uses the rest of his strength to help you lay at the top of the bed & he rests his back against the pillows, letting you lay between his legs, your back against his chest.

He grabs the bottle of water from his side of the beds bedside table as he always insists on having water there & feeding you it as he kisses the top of your head.

"Did so well for me hunny, you not sore or anything? I love you sooo much. want me to run you a bath n make food?" he questions softly as he reaches down with the hand not holding the bottle to rub over your stomach.

"I'm fine, more than fine actually, just daydreaming about out future bundle of joy! Just wanna lay here for now but yes, we can bath n eat soon, just lemme melt into you a bit more first." you half joke as you turn your head way from the bottle, indirectly telling him you're finished drinking & he just half laughs as he puts it back where he originally found it & cuddles you.

"Just gotta think of baby names don't we? It can't come soon enough, you can choose food since you'll complain if I order something for us if you give me the freedom to choose." he jokes & you just 'tut' at his words, smiling as you rest your head on his arms.

->Taglist:open!

->Anon list:open!

#bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan smut #bangchan #bang chan #skz smut #kpop smut #smut #skz fluff #fluff #oneshot #skz oneshots #skz #skz scenarios #straykids x reader #straykids #stray kids

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celestiaras · 7 months ago

Note

Hello! Can I request a one-shot of dom! Shu yamino (smut) with sub! S/O with the use of a vibrator? (Sorry that doesn't make sense) Thank you!

ft. shu yamino x f! reader — luxiem, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ testing out a different kind of magic wand ┊0.5k words

contains: smut!! dom shu & sub reader┊ooc shu, established relationship, vibrating wand, edging & punishment, college au, bratting/brat-taming kinda, hand-fixation, kindaa dubcon if you squint but it’s fully consensual promise

➤ author's note: guysss i’m so rusty at writing smut, this is so embarrassing smh T-T i didn’t do shu justice, but i need this out of my drafts, it’s basically haunting me!! honestly just ignore this and hope i do a better job next time (i'm exhausted from nonstop travel, someone send help)

“c-come on, shu, i said i was sorry…,” you whined out breathlessly, trying to reach out and push away the little vibrating wand against your clit but also doing the contradicting action of pushing your hips into it. you weren’t really sure what you wanted, if you wanted him to stop edging you, or if you wanted the buzz of pleasure to continue even if it wasn’t getting anywhere.

the decision rested in the hands of your boyfriend, who promptly swatted you away and only applied more pressure which made you cry out. he’s not normally this mean, you can’t remember the last time he’s been this mean. all you were trying to do was get his attention away from another one of those damn extra credit assignments he’s always so hell-bent on doing despite his lowest grade being a ninety-three, but you weren’t satisfied with the suggested compromise of him being all yours once he was finished, so now here you were pouting with tears in your eyes with too much of his attention where you wanted him most.

didn’t help that now he decided this was the perfect time to test out that new toy you bought online as a whim, a different type of magic wand the sorcerer was used to, but he mastered using it within a minute of fiddling with the buttons and was using on your with an almost sadistic enthusiasm you haven’t seen in a while.

you didn’t want the plastic piece of modern technology though, you wanted to feel him. you wanted his hands after watching him spin around a pencil all day, pale with long and dexterous fingers on you, trailing over your skin and providing intimacy that being overworked college students deprived you of with your busy schedules.

“shuu, pleasee…”

“‘please’ what?”

“please touch me…”

“i am touching you,” he responded bluntly, referring to one of his hands holding your thighs apart because you wouldn’t stop subconsciously closing them from embarrassment under his intense gaze and from the random spikes of pleasure shooting up your spine when he upped the intensity of the toy.

“you know that’s not what i mean!”

“my girl is so, so needy,” he tutted. god, he really could be an asshole if he wanted to be, a sharp contrast to his usual kind-hearted mannerisms, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. “why did you even buy the wand if you were just going to keep it in a box under your bed and ask for me to take care of you then?”

“i told you, it was an impulse buy! also there was a sale going on—” it was increasingly difficult to keep a steady voice without outright moaning, just taking little pitched breaths in between while your vision was sparking white and your hands pressed into the mattress to grab onto the fabric of the bedsheets. “please, please, shu, i need it so bad—”

“in a bit, i just wanna watch my pretty girl fall apart like this first, i think i deserve that much. besides, we gotta put your money to good use, don’t we?”

#📜. her works #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #shu yamino smut #luxiem #luxiem x reader #luxiem smut #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji smut #nijisanji en #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en smut

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queenshelby · 4 months ago

Text

The Peaky Role (Part 30)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Pregnancy

The hallway echoed with Nina's quiet sobs, her shoulders heaving with each ragged breath.

"Shit, Nina! Are you okay?" you asked while your father stood there, handing her a glass of water which she declined.

"Can we talk in private?" she said through her tears, her voice cracking.

"Yeah, of course. Come on," you urged, leading her to your room and shutting the door behind you.

Nina immediately collapsed onto your bed, her makeup smudged, tears cutting tracks down her cheeks. You grabbed a tissue from the bedside table, offering it to her. "Talk to me. What's happened?" you asked.

Her hands shook as she reached into her bag, pulling out her toiletry bag. She then fumbled with the zipper, her breath catching as she pulled out a small, white stick and held it up between trembling fingers.

"Oh my god," you breathed, your heart racing. The little window showed the faintest hint of a second line. "Is this... Damien's?" you asked, without thinking twice, referring to Nina's off and on boyfriend, or whatever he was.

Nina nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "I haven't been with anyone else. Just him and we hooked up a few weeks ago, and...," she stammered as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, looking utterly lost.

"Does he know?" you asked, sitting beside her, your arm sliding around her shoulders.

"No," she whispered. "I just took the test tonight. I'm... I'm scared. I am so fucking scared Y/N!"

You studied the test carefully. "It looks really faint. Maybe you should take another one? Sometimes these things are wrong too, you know?" you tried to calm her down. "And even if it isn't wrong, you've got options," you went on to say but Nina barely listened.

"Mum and dad will fucking kill me," she sobbed as Nina buried her face in her hands, voice muffled. "Dad hates Damien. Like literally. Hates him," Nina's fingers clutched the duvet tight, her knuckles white and you remembered when Nina had told you previously that Cillian had told her that Damien was not a good fit. According to Cillian, Damien was too old to be dating her. He was 28 and Nina was 20. On top of that, Cillian did not trust him. He had a bad feeling about him and, truth be said, you did too.

"Alright, let's take a breath," you said as you squeezed her shoulder, your heart pounding. "We can figure this out together."

"First things first, you will take another test," you declared calmly before you stood up and rushed to your ensuite bathroom, searching through the cabinet, before returning with small pink packet.

"Here," you said, handing it to her with a steady hand, your voice firm.

Nina's wide eyes met yours, uncertainty clouding her expression, but she nodded, determination flickering behind the fear.

"Why the fuck do you have an entire box of pregnancy tests?" she asked, laughing though her tears if even just momentarily.

You shrugged, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"I had a one night stand a few weeks ago and I just...I panicked a little," you lied, causing Nina's eyes to widen.

"How did I not know about this? And why on earth wouldn't you use protection?" she gaped, her brows knitting together in bewilderment.

"I knew him well. I had no condoms, and I took the morning after pill. But I was still freaking out when my period didn't come, so I took like ten tests," you chuckled, blushing slightly, before pressing the box into her hands.

"Just take the test and let me know. Whatever it is, we handle it together," you urged, your conviction solid.

Nina nodded, swallowing hard, determination flickering in her eyes as she headed to the bathroom.

You paced the room, heart thundering in your chest.

"Just breathe, Nina!" you called out, praying she would be alright.

A minute later, Nina emerged, face pale, the test clutched tightly in her shaking hand, uncertainty written all over her features.

"Nina, what does it say?" You venture closer, your heart thudding against your ribs.

"It's still faint," she replied, breath hitching.

"Let me see," you urged, your mind racing.

She hands the test over, doubt swirling between you.

"It's positive," you whispered, eyes widening as you studied the telltale line, which became clearer and clearer by the minute.

Nina bit her lip, tears pooling in her eyes.

"I can't be," she choked out, panic bubbling beneath her voice.

"Let's think this through," you encouraged, urgency sharpening your tone.

"You can stay here tonight, and I honestly think that you should talk to your mum about this as well," you said, and Nina's eyes flared with defiance.

"Are you mad? She'll freak!" she told you and you stepped closer, urgency sharpening your voice.

"Better to face it than hide. Trust me," you told her. "I will come with you. I will even hold your hand when you tell her about it and, maybe, she's got some ideas too. I mean, she had three kids, right?" you explained, and Nina considered it.

Nina stared at the test, her brow furrowing as doubts clawed at her thoughts.

"I guess I should talk to her," she murmured, voice shaky. "She's my mum," Nina went on to say and you squeezed her shoulder, your resolve firm.

"Exactly," you replied, locking eyes with her. "Mums can be surprisingly understanding."

Nina released a shaky breath, determination flickering in her eyes.

"And what about dad?" Nina's gaze dropped, the question weighing heavily in the air. "He'll blow up. You know how he will," she muttered, chewing her lip as anxiety gnawed at her.

"He cares about you, Nina. Just be honest with him," you urged, your voice steady. "And I am fairly sure that he will be supportive of whatever you decide to do too," you added, holding her gaze steady.

Nina drew in a deep breath, her resolve hardening.

"Okay. I'll call him after I speak to mum," she said as she looked at the test again, determination flickering in her eyes. "Let's just hope he takes it well."

Nina straightened her shoulders, resolve solidifying and, just as you nodded again, your phone buzzed, a message from Cillian lighting up the screen.

"Why is he texting you so late?" she asked, seeing her father's name pop up on your screen as you glanced at the notification, your heart skipping a beat.

"I don't know," you replied, glancing back at Nina, who squinted at the phone with suspicion.

"Probably just about filming. You know him," you said, dismissing the thought as you typed a quick response.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Nina asked, her eyes widening with urgency.

You nodded without hesitation, knowing tonight felt bigger than the usual sleepover.

"Of course. You're safe here. You know that" you assured her, the weight of her worry heavy in the air as you watched relief flicker across her face.

"Promise you won't tell your dad about this?" she asked before curling up on your bed.

"Of course not," you assured her, feeling the gravity of the moment.

Nina's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Thanks, Y/N. I just need to wrap my head around it first. And I need to tell my parents before anyone else, even though I am not even sure if I want to keep it," she trailed off, the weight of her words hanging in the air as she stares at the ceiling.

"And you don't have to decide that right away either. Let's figure it out together," you said, giving her a hug as she nodded, her expression firm now.

...

The following morning, you both woke up early to the sound of birds chirping outside your window.

Nina stretched, a small yawn escaping her lips.

"I feel like I haven't slept at all," she murmured, rubbing her eyes as you handed her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," she mumbled, taking a slow sip.

You watched her face morph from groggy to alert, curiosity flickering behind her eyes.

"Do you want to head to your mum's house this morning? I got dad's car and can drive us," you offered, the suggestion hanging in the air like a lifeline.

Nina bit her lip, brows furrowing. "Do you think she'll be understanding?" she asked, and you shrugged, unsure of the answer.

"Only one way to find out," you told your best friend before putting some fresh clothes in front of her. Nina glanced at the outfit, then back at you, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.

"Right, but what if she freaks?" she asked.

"You'll handle it. Just be honest," you replied, a hint of encouragement in your voice. "And I am there with you, right?" you added.

"Okay, let's do this," she replied, determination igniting in her eyes.

It was exactly an hour later that you arrived at Nina's house, the familiar facade looming ahead, yet the weight of uncertainty hung in the air.

"You ready?" you asked, your heart pounding alongside hers as she nodded, biting her lip.

"Let's do this," she said once more and, with that, you both stepped into the familiar front yard, the scent of freshly cut grass blending with the cool morning air.

"Here goes nothing," Nina whispered, each step towards the door heavier than the last.

You squeezed her hand. "I've got your back," you said.

Nina paused at the porch, her breath hitching. The door opened before she could knock, revealing her mother, eyes wide and hair in a messy bun.

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in," she chuckled before greeting you.

"I feel like I haven't seen you for ages, Y/N. How was it? In Liverpool?" she asked before giving you a tight hug and, thereby, inadvertently inhaling the scent of your perfume which was something that startled her.

"Uhm, come in," she said, stepping back to allow you both inside.

"Thanks, Mum," Nina muttered, her voice trembling as she followed you and her mother into the kitchen, but even before Nina could say anything, Danielle made a strange remark.

"That perfume you are wearing smells familiar. Did you borrow it from someone?" she asked you and you shook your head.

"No, it's from a small boutique in Madrid. My mum got it for me on her holiday," you said as Danielle raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as she poured herself a cup of tea.

"Madrid, huh?" she asked. "So, you can't buy it here?" she wondered, recalling this very same distinct perfume smell on Cillian's clothes a few weeks back, on the day that he had told her that he wanted a divorce.

"No, you can't I don't think," you told her as Nina stared at the kitchen table, her expression tightening.

"Mum, can we stop it about the perfume," she burst out, frustration tugging at her features.

Danielle raised an eyebrow, curiosity still piqued. "Alright, love. What's on your mind then?"

Nina took a deep breath, her resolve hardening as she glanced at you.

"This isn't easy, but… I might be pregnant," she blurted, her gaze darting to the floor, searching for comfort in the tiles and Danielle's eyes widened, a cup of tea momentarily forgotten in her hand.

"What? Nina, are you serious?" Danielle asked and Nina clenched her fists, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air.

"Are you joking? This isn't funny, Nina," she went on to say but Nina's gaze lifted, eyes flashing with a mix of fear and defiance.

"I'm dead serious, Mum. I took two tests," she blurted, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands and Danielle's expression shifted, worry knitting her brows together.

"Who with?" she shot back, her voice sharp as she locked eyes with Nina.

"Damien," Nina replied, the defensive edge clear in her tone.

"Dear God," Danielle's voice wavered, concern shadowing her features. "Oh shit, Nina," she exclaimed, placing the teacup down with a shaky hand, the clattering sound echoed against the tiled floor.

"Do you want to keep it?" Danielle asked and Nina's eyes widened, searching her mother's face for understanding.

"I… I don't know, Mum. I'm scared," she mumbled, her voice thick with emotion.

Danielle's expression shifted, concern deepening as she stepped closer, her hand gently resting on Nina's shoulder.

"Let's not tell your dad about this until you know what you want to do Nina," Danielle's voice dropped to a whisper, concern etching deep lines on her forehead. "If you are going to have an abortion, he does not need to know."

"No, I think she needs to tell him, “You interjected, stepping closer to Nina, who fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, her gaze flickering between you and her mother. "He's got a right to know as well," you pressed, your voice unwavering.

Nina's eyes darted, panic brewing beneath the surface.

"Y/N, with respect, this is not your place to voice your opinion," Danielle snapped, her eyes hardening as she turned to you.

"I'm sorry, but Cillian is Nina's father, so he is entitled to know, just as you are and there is absolutely no reason to keep this from him," you interjected, causing Danielle to glare at you, disbelief etched across her features.

"I need you to stay out of our family affairs, Y/N. And I mean it," she snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice through the tension, leaving Nina frozen beside you. "In fact, I would like you to leave now please," she went on to say and Nina's eyes shot wide, disbelief mingling with anger.

"Mum, no!" she protested, voice trembling.

"It's fine, Nina," you said, wanting to keep the peace for your best friend's sake. "I can leave, I mean, provided that you are going to be fine of course," you offered, glancing between them as the tension thickened in the air. "I don't want to cause any trouble," you furthermore added, stepping toward the hallway.

Nina shot you a desperate look, lips trembling. "I am sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking as she fought back tears while Danielle gave you yet another stern look.

"How about I pick you up later?" you offered, and Nina's eyes glimmered with gratitude, but her mother shook her head firmly.

"No. She needs to focus on herself right now," Danielle crossed her arms, voice steady, causing Nina to shake her head.

"I will call you," she told you quietly, her lips trembling as she glanced back at her mother and, with that, you left, feeling at odds about what had just transpired.

You couldn't make sense of why Danielle had reacted that way as you stepped into the cool air, the weight of Nina's uncertainty hung in your chest.

Meanwhile, the arguments between Nina and her mother continued and Nina voiced her disappointment about how her mother had treated you.

"You know Y/N just came here to help," Nina shot back, frustration tightening her voice. "She cares about me."

Danielle crossed her arms, brow furrowing. "Does she?" she asked with a sharp gaze and Nina clenched her fists, frustration bubbling over.

"Yes mum. And I asked Y/N to be here with me. She is my best friend, and I need her support. She is just trying to help," Nina's voice quivered, but determination glimmered in her eyes.

Danielle's grip on the teacup tightened, her jaw clenching. "Well, is sleeping with your father helpful? Because I don't think so!" Danielle went on to say, causing Nina's chin to drop.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Mum?" Nina shot back; confusion written all over her face.

"Y/N is involved with your father," Danielle's voice dripped with accusation, her eyes narrowing and, Nina's mouth felt open, disbelief etching itself into her features just before she broke out in laughter, even though her tear-streaked face.

"Are you serious? Y/N and Dad?" Nina gaped, still processing the idea, shaking her head in disbelief. "Come on mum," she laughed and cried all at the same time.

Danielle's glare tightened, urgency framing her voice. "It's true, Nina. I am certain of it," Danielle said before delving deeper into these accusations.

"That day your father told me about wanting a divorce, I could smell her perfume on him. It was unmistakable," Danielle insisted, eyes narrowing. "I mean, I couldn't place it at the time, but I knew I had smelled it somewhere before," Danielle went on to say with firm conviction, crossing her arms against her chest. "And then, Ciara mentioned finding Y/N's earring in Dad's bedroom. How do you explain that?"

Nina stiffened, the colour draining from her face. "You must be joking, Mum. This is so fucking absurd," Nina shot back, disbelief washing over her features.

"Your paranoia is what drove dad away from you and now you just took the icing off the ridiculous cake," Nina shot back, arms crossed defiantly. "Despite, it's just, ew, no...," Nina finished off before shaking her head. "And I just can't believe that you made this all about your jealousy now. My life is falling apart here, and you are somehow making it about you being cheated on," Nina scoffed, her tone sharp before turning her heel and leaving her mother sitting there by herself, nursing her tea.

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