#ALSO I SEE I HAVE AN ASK AND I WILL GET TO THAT i just wanna be able to sit down and focus

[atlabeth]

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it. 

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.  

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments. 

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.” 

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?” 

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.” 

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.” 

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh. 

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.” 

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him. 

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?” 

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.” 

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.” 

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says. 

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?” 

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.” 

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something. 

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.” 

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep. 

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks. 

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.” 

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity. 

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses. 

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.” 

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him. 

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly. 

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.” 

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?” 

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus. 

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel. 

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent. 

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses. 

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.  

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?” 

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?” 

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.” 

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.” 

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.” 

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.” 

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks. 

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?” 

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.” 

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.” 

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.” 

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.” 

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.” 

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.” 

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.” 

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.” 

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?” 

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.” 

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today. 

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?” 

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.” 

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.” 

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?” 

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.” 

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here. 

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.” 

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here. 

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head. 

“You don’t need to pay me back.” 

“Really?” 

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.” 

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning. 

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says. 

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!” 

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.” 

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.” 

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.” 

[gi4hao]

💋 ˎˊ- you ask to leave lipstick stains on their face

-> ot13! fluff, 1 mention of making out in hoshi’s, mention of kissing dino’s neck :> (also not proofread yet bc i’m too lazy)

-> reblogs and feedback are always appreciated <3

— seungcheol

although he’s a bit confused by the question, he’s more down for it than he’ll ever admit. he insists on keeping your phone in his hand to take pictures, which he’ll definitely add as a widget among your apps. it’s hard for him to stay still while you kiss his face tho, because he’s used to immediately kissing you back… which he eventually does once his face is full of reddish stains.

— jeonghan

he’ll giggle his way through it, that’s for sure. head resting on your lap, he makes it hard to get precise stains because he can’t stop squirming after every kiss. still, he looks very happy with the end result as he admires himself in the mirror. “i’ve never looked better,” he beams before kissing your lips, transferring some of the lipstick on his, “can i do it to you?”. and so begins round 2, during which he’s just as giggly.

— joshua

100% okay with it, and he’ll stay surprisingly still during the process. a patient smile on his lips, he keeps his eyes closed while you pepper his face with kisses. “i feel like a canvas,” he says, “it’s pretty nice. mostly because the painter is really hot”. you playfully hit his shoulder, because he knows how much this kind of remarks fluster you. “well you’re a really hot canvas too,” you add, hands on his jaw to plant a comically loud kiss on his lips.

— jun

another giggler, obviously. he acts as if it’s the first time your lips touch his face, making him feel almost ticklish. and just seeing him grinning from ear to ear makes you sort of forget about your initial plan: long story short, the stains mostly end up on his mouth. “it’s a look!” he says, looking at his reflection in his phone before putting it down to kiss you again, “will definitely want to recreate it again…”

— hoshi

he says he’d let you do whatever you want, yet he can’t help but ask “how does it look?” after every. single. kiss. and he looks so proud when you finally show him the end result. he thinks it looks kind of hot (and he’s not wrong about that). actually, there’s no guarantee he won’t turn this wholesome activity into a makeout session… the stains are already showing that he’s obsessed with you, why not continue down this road?

— wonwoo

his cheeks have never flushed so quickly before. you wanting to leave lipsticks stains on his face is kind of like… you trying to claim him as your boyfriend… and he kind of loves it… so yes, he would hold his glasses in his hands and just pray that you don’t tease him too much about the pink shade on his cheeks. “you’re awfully silent,” you playfully remark between two kisses. “well, you know… just trying not to lose my mind,” he replies, carefully looking away.

— woozi

at first you think he accepts just to make you happy… but you notice he’s actually really into it; like when he offers to reapply the lipstick himself after the first few kisses. and he does it very carefully, tongue sticking out as he follows the natural curves of your lips. “are you in love with me or something?” you tease him with a fake frown. letting out a sigh, he gazes at you with a serious expression: “my cheeks are covered in the shape of your lips… i’m madly in love with you.”

— dokyeom

he’s shocked you even asked for his permission, because this man is always down for kisses, no matter the reason for them. also, he thinks lipstick looks really sexy on you but that’s besides the point… his heart does a little jump when he sees you being extra careful before kissing the mole on his cheek, because you want to make sure this stain is the most perfect one. “can i take a picture? it’s for my lockscreen,” you ask, and he swears his heart is about to burst. “you can do whatever makes you happy, my love.”

— mingyu

for you, he’s a living doll. it’s very rare for him not to be on board with something, so naturally he will also say yes to that. and seeing how gorgeous these stains look on his tanned skin only feeds your mind with further ideas. “wait… i want to do something else,” you say, readjusting your position until his forearm is at your lips’ reach. he burst out laughing when he feels your lips crash against his bicep. “now i’ve claimed your pretty face and your pretty muscles,” you happily state, before letting out a squeal as he pulls you closer. “you’ve claimed all of me a long time ago, beautiful”.

— minghao

yeah, sure! why not! but he’d want to take it up a notch and make it artsier. “can you leave some here as well?,” he asks you, pointing at the collar of his white shirt, “i’ll go over the stains with some fabric paint later”. so you do as told, because nothing make you feel as loved as minghao considering you his muse. “perfect,” he nods when you show him the end result, which makes you feel even more flustered, “that way you’ll always be with me. and that’s all i could ever ask for,” he smiles, and you’re pretty sure now is a good time to finally give his lips some attention.

— seungkwan

he is so down for it he could even go grocery shopping with those stains on his face. in fact, he seems to enjoy it so much that you get a little carried away. “i thought you meant about ten kisses… not ten thousands,” he teases, looking at his reflection in the mirror. most of his face is covered in lipstick, but the softness of his skin is the only one to blame. “forgive me for loving my boyfriend too much…” you playfully roll your eyes, which prompts seungkwan to trap you in his arms and give you a taste of your own medicine, leaving so many kisses on your face you can barely think straight.

— vernon

it’s not the first time you ask him to partake in something you saw on social media, he’s more than used to it. “peak boyfriend activity,” he states as he leans back against the couch, lovingly watching you apply the lipstick. he tries his best to keep a straight face during your kisses, but there are a few chuckles he can’t hold back, simply because it makes him so giddy. “i just know this will be my new contact picture…” he says when you’re done. as you take your phone out of your pocket, you correct him: “actually… this is going in the groupchat”.

— dino

oh he would be so smug about it. “i’m all yours,” he tells you, his own lips puckered to make sure you won’t forget to kiss them too. “this is as close as i’ve ever been to happiness” he adds when you’re done, with a (slightly exaggerated) peaceful sigh, “kissed, marked by my lover’s lips, and seconds away from asking if you can leave some on my neck as well…”. you look at him with crossed arms and amused eyes, but you both know you’ll end up doing it right away, especially when he’s looking so, so handsome right now.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[c-nstantine]

okay but newlywed jason and reader fucking raw for the first time on their wedding night 🥰 (please and thank you🫶🏼)

-🌷

Warnings: 18+, also this isn't like good smut but it is super smutty

word count: 0.9k

Jason was impatient. Being impatient at his wedding was probably the worst thing imaginable. All he wanted was to be close to his wife in her gorgeous white dress that only accentuated her every curve. So, he waited and waited until it was time for him and her to finally leave. They were supposed to spend one night in Gotham before taking off on their honeymoon. Jason barely allowed her to reach the threshold of the hotel door before pouncing on her. 

His mouth was on hers as his hands searched for the best way to get her out of the dress. He should've been planning this. He thought the dress was money well spent but it would look so much better on the floor.

"Jason, the dress," She gasped as she heard buttons ripp from behind her. Jason snorted and began to kiss down her neck as he continued to rip the fabric. That's what they get for putting a million tiny buttons, he thought.

"Sweetheart, you were only gonna wear it once anyway," He reminded her. She shook her head at her new husband's antics and was glad she went with a simple hairstyle. 

"I have been waiting to tear this off of you all day," He groaned as he tore through the last of the fabric and helped her step out of the last of the dress. He could feel his dick strain against his pants as he took in the sight of her body in white lace lingerie. He couldn't undress himself quickly enough.

"Did you wear this just for me?" He asked once he was stripped down to his boxers. She took his hand and led him to the bed of the hotel with a shy nod. She went to kneel but Jason stopped her.

"I vowed as your husband to always take care of you first," He spoke genuinely and gestured for her to get on the bed. Once she was on her back he crawled in between her legs and licked a broad stripe to her white lace panties. He pulled them down and was tempted to sniff them before diving into the feast in front of him. No, he'd save the sniffing for later.

Hooking his arms around her thighs, he dove into her pussy. He was sure to spell his name with his tongue because every part of her was his. He pumped two fingers in and out of her as his tongue danced along her clit. Her hips pressed further into his face as he continued his work. He would look up through his thick lashes to see the most beautiful sight in the world. Her moans were a little too close to an orgasm for his comfort so he stopped his pumping and removed his fingers from her. He made a show of sucking her pussy juice off each of his fingers.

"Jay, I need you," She whined as he slid off the bed to check his bag for condoms.

"Just a sec," He was moving as quickly as he could. He wanted this as much as she did. Their first night together as husband and wife. It had to be perfect.

"We don't need those," She called out. Jason froze in his actions. Before the wedding, the two of them had been so careful to avoid any slip-ups. Who was he to deny a request of his wife?

"Oh, you want me to fill your pussy with cum? Make you mine in every way possible?" He walked over to the bed and hovered over her. He nipped at the top of her still-confined breasts before undoing the hook in the front. He sucked one breast while kneading the other with his calloused hand.

"Please," She begged for him to fuck her how he had been dreaming about. He rubbed her clit with his cock before sinking into her pussy. Their hips met and she let out a small hiss from his size. No matter how many times she had taken his dick before there was always an adjustment to his heavy cock.

"It's okay, you can take it, " Jason kissed the top of her hairline before slowly sliding in and out of her pussy. Jason had flushed red from the amount of self-control it took for him not to explode in the moment. It was the first time they had ever fucked raw and he could feel the warmth of her pussy in ways he had only dreamed about.

He noticed that her face was less tense and her expression had turned to bliss. He placed his hands on her hips and began to stroke faster. Her hands dug into his shoulders and crescent nail marks were embedded in his flesh. His arms were strong from years of training and working out but now they were great for holding her in place so she couldn't squirm from his cock.

"That's it, baby," He grunted as her legs opened wider to give him better access. Her mouth fell open once he hit the perfect spot. Jason smirked and continued to drill into her. Her breaths became sharper as Jason whispered words of encouragement to her. He reminded her over and over how perfect she was and her pussy was made just for him.

"Cum on my cock, baby," He was doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay so that she could reach hers. With a few more strokes, she fell apart on his cock. Her breaths were uneven as she reached her orgasm. Jason let out a deep breath as he came into her. He continued his thrusts ever so slightly just to watch the cum cream around his cock. Yeah, this was his favorite part of marriage.

taglist: @flyestvenustrap@megamindsecretlair@blxckdesire @prettyvintageafternoon@lilbanas@certifiedloverwoman@melissa-ashe @hoyoooo

[ham1lton]

MISS BAD MEDIA KARMA

pairings: (alleged) charles leclerc x reader. lando norris x reader. george russell x reader. (platonic) sebastian vettel x reader.

warnings: misogynistic media and comments.

summary: after a night out with your fellow drivers, the media is alight with rumours and speculation about your romantic life. most people would call a pr meeting, you go through the funniest rumours on instagram live and rate them out of ten.

author’s note: i’m still taking questions/asks/requests so please send some in! also as usual, there is a poll at the end so please vote!

— part of my maneater series ꕤ

START INSTAGRAM LIVE. (20K WATCHING)

Y/N: hi guys! hi! how is everyone? how are you doing?

user1: Y/N NOTICE ME!

user2: y/n girl u look hungover as hell 😭

Y/N: am i hungover? perhaps. that’s probably why i’m doing this. jo is going to kill me but whatever.

user3: what are you planning on doing? 😭

Y/N: after yesterday’s… events. there have been a lot of rumours about me and my fellow drivers that have been spread around social media. so let’s talk through them and rate them out of ten.

user7: ain’t this a pr disaster?

user8: you probably shouldn’t do this.

landonorris: LMFAOOOOOO DO IT

Y/N: lando? how are you not hungover from last night? i’ll start with you. apparently according to this thread by twitter user y/nando, the two of us are secretly engaged to be married. okay first of all, why? second of all, no. i’m sorry. that isn’t happening any time soon. also, my schedule is too packed to be thinking about marriage plans. this one is 2/10 because c’mon.

landonorris: i’m searching that thread right now.

landonorris: wait lol why is this kinda accurate… are you sure we’re not engaged?

user7: LMFAOOOOOO

Y/N: we’re supposed to be EXTINGUISHING the rumours, not adding to them??? we are not engaged. we’re just friends. barely that if anything.

user8: BOOOOOOOOO

y/nando: it’s okay :) you’ll see that you’re perfect for each other one day.

Y/N: will we? anyways. next rumour. according to some monaco newspaper, charles and i have a secret child. this is apparently backed up by some anonymous sources.

landonorris: BOOOOO we get some shitty engagement rumour and you and charles get a child. i want a redo!

charles_leclerc: don’t deny our child y/n 😔

user6: y’all are MESSY 😭

user9: CHARLESY/N SUPREMACY 😍

georgerussell63: end the live y/n 😁👍🏻

Y/N: what is this photo? this is supposed to be proof of my pregnancy? i was just bloated from an evening of indulging at this amazing italian restaurant. it was gorgeous. whoever used this photo is dead wrong for that. this one is 5/10 cause i feel self conscious.

user12: no deadass 😭 if i was famous i would have had a million pregnancy rumours by now.

user68: no charlesy/n baby? BOOO!

Y/N: another one. george and i were spotted buying baby clothes in london. apparently george is me and charles’ baby’s godfather. there is no baby! charles and i don’t have a kid. so george is not the godfather!

georgerussell63: wait… why not? i would be a great godfather actually. i am offended.

user9: george going from telling y/n to switch off the live to being offended he isn’t the godfather of her alleged baby is crazy 😭

Y/N: also why was i shopping with george and not my alleged baby daddy? charles you’re a deadbeat to our non-existent child and that’s why this newspaper is saying that george is raising my kid?

charles_leclerc: apologies to leclerc jr but no way i’m letting george raise him.

georgerussell63: i’m not ready to be a stepdad but c’mon i’d be a great one.

user4: george isn’t the stepdad, he’s the dad that stepped up!

logansargeant: i’m upset that i haven’t been included in these rumors.

Y/N: if i was gonna ask anyone to be my baby’s stepdad it would be oscar. this rumour is 3/10 because it’s so unbelievable.

oscarpiastri: NOOOOOOOO 😰

user9: HELP???

user67: i’m watching this while doing my makeup. y/n is my favourite influencer!

user78: i was watching your vlog when i saw the notification!

Y/N: did you enjoy this vlog? for people who haven’t seen it yet, it’s detailing my offseason with my friends and family! we travelled a little and i did some work with my sponsorships! so check it out. we have some very interesting camera people.

user65: can’t believe you had the usher do your camera work for your superbowl vlog.

user8: you met beyoncé, you never gonna fail!

user67: be honest, did you faint at the sight of all the big celebs?

lewishamilton: y/n, this is all very interesting but maybe you shouldn’t be doing this? - sebastian.

Y/N: seb?? what are you doing here? and why are you on lewis’ account? don’t you have your own?

lewishamilton: i lost my login information 😅 and i got a message from charles telling me to shut this down - sebastian.

Y/N: what a snitch…

user23: he mad y/n didn’t accept their child 😭

Y/N: speaking of sebastian, here is my favourite rumour. that sebastian is my father and i’m his secret lovechild.

youryoungersis: wait…. is that why we look so different? you have a different dad???

lewishamilton: i’m not that much older than you? how can i be your dad? i’m only 13 years older than you! do i look that old? - sebastian, NOT your father.

user7: HELPSOSJSSJ

user5: NOT HIM CLARIFYING 😭😭

Y/N: that one is funny but no. we don’t even look alike! i hear a lot that we have the same mannerisms but that’s probably because i practically grew up around the guy. i’m rating this one…. 7/10.

lewishamilton: grew up around not with! - sebastian, NOT her father.

user2: BRO WE GET IT 😭😭😭😭

Y/N: so basically, time for the last one. this one is definitely the most out of pocket one.

alex_albon: BOOOOO I MISSED MOST OF IT

danielricciardo: 🤣🤣🤣

user98: HELSPSOSJ i’m laughing so hard.

Y/N: oh hi jo! how did you get in? WAIT!-

INSTAGRAM LIVE ENDED. (98K WATCHING)

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

[lecl3rcw]

KEEPING UP WITH THE LECLERCS | leclerc brothers x reader

_______________________

“Y/N, it’s the middle of the fucking night in Monaco? You better have a good ass reason too wake me up” Arthur groaned at his twin as he groggily.

“You won’t believe it.” She says

“What?”

“THE BENGALS INVITED ME TO THEIR GAME” she says, a sudden burst of excitement ran through her

“Who are the bengals again?” He sighs

“….”

“Oh wait, it’s that one dude you like, what was his name again Joe Burrow?”

“YEAH AND GET THIS, I can bring up to 5 people, so you’re coming and so are Charles, Alex, Lorenzo and Maman” she says excitedly.

“Who says I’m going?” He says, earning himself a scowl.

“You don’t want to come?” She says, “well I mean not really”

“Ofcourse you don’t! I always show up for your events and you never show up for mine” she says, maliciousness lacing her tone.

“Y/N please, this isn’t your event, you’re not walking the runway or attending a premiere” he says, his tone now matching hers.

“Well even if I was, not like you’d show up anyways” she mutters.

“What are you yapping about? You’re being so dramatic, I mean not everything revolves around you okay? Some of us have actual problems” he says giving the final blow.

The girl takes a deep breath to collect her self. All her life she had spent living in the shadows of her siblings. She just wanted someone to show up for her, she remembers her first runway show, she had 4 seats reserved for her family yet when she walked out, all 4 of those chairs were empty, why? Because Charles had a last minute deals with a brand. They called and apologized and Ofcourse she put a brave face on, but only the walls of her room heard the way she cried herself to sleep that night.

“You know what? I’m going to let that slide, I don’t know what’s going on with you but I hope you make peace with yourself, and you don’t have to come, I’ll just ask Charles and Enzo. But anyways goodnight” she says

“Y/N-” Arthur tries to interrupt but she hangs up before he can say anything.

Had she overreacted? She felt a sudden rush of guilt overcome her. She couldn’t help but overthink. Her train of thoughts were interrupted by a FaceTime call from her brother's girlfriend.

"Hey babygirl" Alexandra says, "Hey bae, what's up?" she says propping her phone up on the table.

“Just checking in with you and your man situation” Alex says, her and Charles were in the Maldives, “oh it’s good, I got invited to the bengals game so” she replies, “WAIT THATS SO GOOD” Alex says excitedly, Y/N smiles.

“Do you and Charles want to come with me?” She asks hopeful, “well Charles will be preparing for his race but I can definitely come!! When is it?” She asks, “next week!”

“Oh yeah I can definitely make it!” She says,

“Ok we can fly together!! But I I’ll see you next week love ya!” She says hanging up.

The week came even before she could blink.

“So Y/N you excited?” Alexandra says, and Y/N nods.

When they arrive at the stadium, Y/N is immediately greeted by the bengals team.

“Thankyou so much for being our guest, I’m the head coach Zac Taylor” a man says reaching his hand to which she smiles and accepts.

“This is my friend Alexandra!” She says as Alex also shakes his hand, from the corner of her eye, Y/N could feel a certain pair of blue eyes stare at her, and her cheek flushed more.

She waves to the rest of the team, however the man with blue eyes seems to approach her first. “Hey, my name is Joe, I’m the quarterback” he says extending his hand, “I’m going to be honest, I have no idea what that it” Y/N chuckles shaking his hand which caused him to smile.

“Well if you umm give me your number maybe some time could teach you about football” he says very smoothly, which causes her to get flustered.

“Oh yeah, d-definitely! Here” she says giving him her number as he smiles, “you have such a beautiful smile” Joe says bringing up her hand to his lips before letting it go, “I’ll talk to you later” he says waving before going to get ready for his game. She just stands there in shock wondering what happened.

Alexandra squeals, “I saw that!! Y/N he so likes you” she says hugging the girl.

Y/N laughs and shakes her head, but the whole time she couldn’t take her eyes of him.

joeyb_9 started following you

y/n.leclerc

y/n.leclerc modeling for Dior has always been a dream of mine, so thankful to take this huge step into my career with the most amazing photographers, stylists, and makeup artists🫶🏻

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, joeyb_9, charles_leclerc, and 13,000,000 others

alexandrasaintmleux mami😍

^ y/n.leclerc kiss me rn😍

charles_leclerc alex has been staring at the phone for the past 15 minutes….

^ y/n.leclerc sounds like a you problem bud😪

fan1 NOT JOE BURROW LIKING?!!?!

^ fan2 IK HE NEVER LIKES

joeburrowswife idk I don’t see the hype

^ y/n2fine yet she’s pulling your “man”

rachelzegler welcome to the squad Y/N❤️

^ y/n.leclerc Thankyou rach💕🥹

bellahadid weird way to propose but yes😍

^ y/n.leclerc SHE SAID YES YALL💍👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

[lovifie]

Masterlist

Cw: mentions of alcohol, blowjob, Simon likes red lipstick.

Simon, and his civilian girlfriend that he was so afraid to introduce to his teammates.

He knows the men are great men, would (and he has) give his life to protect them. But he also knows that Johnny and Gaz with one too many drinks turn into a constant dick joke, enough to drive anyone away.

Still, tired of hearing the constant yapping from both sides to meet; surprisingly, it was Price the one who asked the most about “When are you going to introduce us to your missus, son?”, he finally agrees.

He tells you again and again that it's just a couple of drinks at a pub near base, nothing fancy, nothing especial.

You still knock the breath out of his lungs when you stand in the living room of your flat, twirling around for him. “What you think?” You say, his eyes instantly drawn to your red lips.

He looks you up and down, walking closer with a look you know very well, and he rests his hands on your hips, leaning closer. “Do we need to go? We can have fun here, dove.”

You look at him, surprised and offended. “Simon! Of course we do! It's literally your boss!” You remind him.

He groans, bending to hide his face on your neck, breathing your perfume in before standing back straight, holding your hand in his. “A’ight…”

Simon is overflown with pride when he walks with you hanging from his arm to the table where his team is. The pub is filled with military men, you can feel every single pair of eyes on you, but the massive man that calls you “lovie” and asks for back scratches is next to you, so not even discomfort can get to you.

The three men sitting down do a really good try to look at you up and down without getting caught, key word, try.

Simon introduces you to Johnny, Price and Gaz, guiding you to sit next to the last and him on the other side, shielding you from everyone else.

Simon leans back, heart beaming with pride when he sees how easy it is for you to steal everyone's attention, the three men looking at you with adoration.

It is easy to fall into a comfortable conversation, drinks passing by just as easy. His arm behind your back and his hand resting on your hip, his thumb caressing your skin over the thin material of the dress.

His eyes still locked into your pretty red lips, constantly moving as you talk to them, you pretty smile appearing again and again on your pretty face.

It's not too late that Price says to call it a night, talking about having to work the next day. He would never admit that he couldn't take it anymore with the way you would constantly look at Simon with hunger in your eyes.

And Price is nothing if not observant, because the moment Simon and you step inside your flat, you are pushing Simon into his armchair. Kneeling before him as you undo his belt.

“What are you doing, darling?” He asks, looking at you amused but still surprised with you taking the initiative.

“Cartwheels, Simon.” You say, finally undoing his pants to free his shaft. “What does it look like I'm doing?”

He chuckles, the laugh turning into a groan when you give a kitty lick to his tip, blood rushing south.

He can't peel his eyes away from your lips, even when he struggles to keep his eyes open. “I bet I can reach up to here.” You say, placing your fingertip at the base of his growing boner.

He pets your head, smiling to himself. “Whatever you say, dove.” He says, aware of the jaw ache his girthy dick is. But the look of determination on your face is enough to keep him from saying anything.

And it is not much longer, that you are bobbing your head up and down, easily taking him down your throat. He has his head thrown back, unable to hold it up anymore as he mumbles nonsense, his hand still resting on your head. He has his eyes closed hardly, trying to keep himself from coming so fast at the feel of your throat constricting his length. A futile attempt when you run your nails over his wide hips, making him buck them against your mouth, finally spilling deep into your mouth.

You finally pull back, licking your lips, satisfied with your attack. And with a smile on your face, you point to his softening dick, the imprint of your lipstick down at the base. “I told you I could.”

And when he looks down, his shaft reddish with the stain of your lipstick, but the clear mark down at the base has his groaning, the sight alone almost enough to get him going again.

Simon was afraid to introduce you to his teammates, but if the dates end up like today… he can wait to meet them again.

@thatoneslvt

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[watchmegetobsessed]

TOO SWEET

A/N: i know originally i teased something else with the hozier song, but this came to me when i saw the pics below and i just had to write them. also, i put the bruises on him so go easy on my photoshop skills lol

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

WARNING: mention of blood and bruises

SUMMARY: You and Harry are worlds apart, yet you can't let go of each other, not even when he stumbles into your home in the middle of the night, bruised and in pain.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You wake to the sound of the front door closing and by the time his footsteps reach the bathroom down the hall you’re fully conscious. There was a time when you considered yourself a heavy sleeper, when the smallest noises could not bother you enough to wake from your dreams, but those days have been gone ever since Harry came into your life. 

You kind of knew what you were getting yourself into, his reputation and horrific stories about his dark deals were more than well-known around town and there was a time you never thought you’d get involved with him. You’re worlds apart, he is the fire that will burn you if you get too close, but it appears you’re the water that could take his danger out. Just one party, one glance across the room was enough to bound you two together and turn your life upside down. 

Surprisingly, you weren’t the only one fighting against the pull. In the beginning, Harry tried to keep him away from you just as much as you attempted to convince yourself he is nothing but trouble. You still remember what he told you one night when you met him at a dodgy bar against your better judgment. 

“I take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You’re way too sweet for me, baby.”

It felt like he wasn’t even talking to you but to himself. His light green eyes were darker than ever as he stared down at your lips and you couldn’t figure out what you wanted more, to kiss him or to leave him. Even though what he said sounded a lot like a promise that he’ll step back, somehow you just ended up even closer. 

Life with Harry is like a rollercoaster that takes you through Hell and Heaven at the same time. When it’s good, it’s a high you’ve never experienced before, he is everything you want and could ever need, he fills your heart and eases your mind like no one can and you know he is the piece you’ve been searching for all your life.

But when it’s low… the darkness feels like a weight you can barely carry and it’s hard to remember what it was like when you were blossoming. 

You never asked Harry to stop his underworld deals, you know it’s practically impossible, but it’s also hard to live like this. Fearing every call you get, fighting intrusive thoughts about what might have happened to him every time he doesn’t answer your messages and then there are the nights like this, when he visits you in the middle of the night but it’s always for the wrong reason. 

The first time Harry appeared at your door at two am, blood running down his face, barely holding himself up, you got so worried he had to calm you even though he was the one with the injuries, but you just couldn’t stop crying and sobbing. 

Now you still get yourself worked up but you learned to keep your face straight as you clean his wounds or even stitch them, but it’s still just as much of a struggle emotionally to see the man you love like this all the time. 

You sit up in your bed as you hear him grunt before closing the bathroom door as quietly as he can and then the water starts running. Reaching for your phone on the nightstand you check the time, it’s just a little past three in the morning, the dim light of the streetlamps are the only source of light in your tiny bedroom, but even despite the darkness, it still feels bright and homey, you spent a lot of time to create this bubble for yourself and though Harry’s gruff and edgy presence feels the farthest from your colorful life, he still somehow belongs here, in your life.

Rubbing your eyes you stand up and look for the cardigan you know you left on the chair in the corner. When you find it you wrap yourself into it tight and take a moment to mentally prepare yourself for whatever you’ll see. From what you heard, he wasn’t limping so that’s a good start, but you still know there’s a whole lot that could be terrifyingly wrong with him to make him come to you instead of his place.

The water has stopped running by the time you make your way out of the bedroom and over to the bathroom. Light is flowing out underneath the door and you don’t know before simply twisting the knob and opening the door, revealing Harry sitting in the bathtub, bent forward, his curls wet and brushed back, bruises covering his shoulders, back and jawline, his bottom lip busted open.

Repentance fills his glimmering eyes when he looks at you and you know what he would say if his pride allowed him to speak.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I want to be better for you, but it’s so hard.”

Walking over you kneel down next to the tub and cup his face with your palm, gentle and soft, not to hurt him and he melts into your touch in an instant. 

“I’m alright,” he rasps as you run your hand down his naked chest, over some of the bruises and you notice how he winces when your cold hand touches a vigorously dark mark on his collarbone. 

You’d do anything to free him from this dark world that keeps him as its prisoner, but ironically you know what kind of consequences one would have to endure to be set free and you fear those would take him from you forever. So every time you see the marks of this evil life on him, a piece of you dies. For him. 

“I’ll get you some pills,” you whisper and try to get up, but his hand grabs your arm, holding you back.

“Just… stay with me, please.” It’s a desperate plea you could never ignore, so you settle back onto the fuzzy rug next to the tub, one arm against his chest as he hugs it like a child, your thumb gently rubbing the side of his neck. But you don’t stay like that much longer. The urge to get closer to him grows unbearable, so you move to stand again and when you see the panic in his eyes you’re quick to calm him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Hesitantly, but he lets go of your arm and watches you as you undress yourself and join him in the tub, sitting behind him so you can hug him from behind, your chest melting against his back as your heartbeats sync. 

His head falls back onto your shoulder while your lips pepper kisses onto his every once in a while, your hands gently running up and down his front, eager to feel the softness of his skin. 

“You’re way too sweet for me,” he breathes out.

“Haven’t we been over this?” you ask with a soft smile. He lifts his head and then turns it so he can look at you. 

“I feel like I’m ruining you.”

“Don’t act like it’s all on you. I made a decision too and I chose to be with you.”

“You made a mistake,” he whispers and you see something dark, something desperate take over his face for a moment, but you’re quick to bring him back to you, like you always do.

Soothing his hair back, you pull him closer so your lips meet for the softest kiss. 

“You could never be a mistake,” you whisper against his lips and you feel him inhale sharply before he kisses you, harder and needier and you’re happy to give him whatever he demands from you. 

You stay in the tub until the water gets too cold. Then you grab him a shirt and a pair of underwear he left at yours a while ago and you move to the bedroom. He finally lets you get him some painkillers and you tell him to get in bed when he tries to randomly fix the jammed drawer of your desk. He loves to play the handyman when he’s over, but now is definitely not the time for that.

“Okay, doctor, gotcha,” he chuckles cheekily as he shuffles over to the bed. He watches you with a smirk as you’re moving around, grabbing another blanket before joining him in bed.

“What?” you ask when he just keeps looking at you smugly.

“You take so good care of me, baby. You know, there is one more thing I think I need to feel better.”

Reaching over he hooks a finger into the front of your shirt, tugging it down teasingly. 

“Oh, really?” you arch an eyebrow at him.

“Absolutely.”

Instead of a reply, you move closer and press two fingers into a bruise on his shoulder just enough to make him wince and flinch back from the pain.

“I think you need to stay away from physical activities, that’s the doctor’s order,” you scoff.

“Fuck, there was nothing sweet about that, damn!” he grunts, making you laugh. 

“But you love it when I put you into your place, don’t you?” Grinning you scoot closer, his arm curling around you instantly.

“I do. Only you can do that,” he smiles down at you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[hwallazia]

ANT!FRAGILE – 최산

synopsis . in which you pamper your successful boyfriend after his dream night at coachella.

pairing . choi san & fem!reader

genre . smut (mdni!) fluff at the end, comfort, established relationship, idol!au, and a poor attempt of comedy.

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle | comment your username if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist! ♡

word count . 3,1k

DISCLAIMER! unprotected sex (wrap before tap!), bath sex, slight degradation? (reader’s referred as “dumb girl” once), dirty talk, softdom!san, sub!reader, dacryphilia?, slight overstimulation, hickeys, size difference, bulge kink, cow girl position, petnames (princess, love, darling & more), teasing, squirt, suggestive language (yn tells wooyoung to kill himself, jokingly! they’re two very friendly friends ;)), coachella san (as a warning itself, yes).

NIC’S NOTES this took way too long for no reason at all (⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;⁠) but here it is! my brain rot of coachella san (ofc with teeth rotting fluff at the end bc i’m the one writing it) also, lowercase is intentional! (again, to lazy to write it properly;;)

you should’ve seen it coming after you found out that your boyfriend, san, would be performing at an event as important as coachella. not that you were complaining though.

you knew how much your boyfriend loves attention, how much it turned him on to hear the fans scream for him, and how the cameras adjust their lens to zoom in on his face or his toned muscles from dancing and moving from side to side. there were constant conversations in which san would ask you “should i wear this?”, “if i unbutton a couple of buttons will i get a reaction from atiny?” of course, you’d tell him dismissively that no matter what he does, he’d always get a reaction from everyone, from you especially.

but taking off his shirt in the middle of a concert? really?

you had already seen him without clothes on the upper part of his body, of course, —and also without clothes down there, but let’s omit details—. the thing here’s that you knew how cautious he was with his clothing, always trying to cover what was most important. but this surprised you, and immensely.

it is, in fact, a sight for sore eyes. but a certain level of jealousy invaded your body; you liked to think that you were the only one with the privilege of seeing his well-worked body. but now millions of people and locals would have photos and videos of your shirtless boyfriend on stage. you definitely couldn’t accept it, even though the entire internet already knows exactly what ateez’s choi san looks like underneath the expensive fabric that covers him at concerts.

you were fully aware that this was his job, and that he was paid for it, but did it really have to be him? why not any other member? maybe seonghwa? or mingi! what about him? he also has a pretty active and... desperate fanbase. it was obvious that more than one fan would pay to get, at least, a glimpse of his abs. so, with so many options, why was your boyfriend the exposed person?

but of course you couldn’t show up in his dressing room with a jealous expression clearly decorating your face, you had to act like the sweet and tender girlfriend you were and put jealousy aside for a moment. your boyfriend had just finished performing on a dream stage for any artist, you couldn’t ruin his night because of a little scene.

you weren’t a jealous or toxic lover; you were a conservative one. you liked knowing that you were special to san and you expected exclusivity from him; consequently, he would receive the same treatment. but you should’ve expected it when you started dating choi san. he’s an idol and that's his job: to cause, in any way, the attention of the fans which, consequently, would keep them afloat or flying through the charts.

but, that was an indelible feature of yours. therefore, in some way, you would make it noticeable.

you hit your knuckles a few times, with moderate intensity, against the modern metallic door decorated by a gold star that highlighted your boyfriend’s band name. you watched as the handle turned slightly and opened the door wide, managing to discover wooyoung with a foaming glass of champagne that found its rest in the palm of her hand. behind his figure, you could see mingi sitting on a noticeably comfortable leather couch next to yunho, both of them clinking their glasses together with a clink; yeosang and seonghwa taking a selfie in the mirror and jongho and hongjoong talking animatedly, perhaps about the upcoming scenarios you thought.

“what the hell are you doing here?” wooyoung said, looking at you confusingly. you narrowed your eyes slightly at his quick lack of courtesy.

“good night to you too, wooyoung. you were incredible out there.” you replied sarcastically, hoping he would finally greet you properly.

“oh thank you so much. but seriously, what are you doing here?” he asked once again.

“what do you mean what am i doing here? i came to congratulate y’all for the show because you totally killed it. all the atiny around me went absolutely feral because of you guys.” you praised, and wooyoung grinned nicely. jongho and hongjoong came up behind him, intrusively joining the conversation.

“well thank you very much, yn.” jongho responded and you gave him your purest smile, truly meaning your words.

“but i also came here to congratulate my boyfriend personally?” you interrogated since his figure wasn’t appearing in your visual field.

“that’s why i was asking! damn, you really don’t listen." wooyoung sentenced, his gaze being comparable to that of a mother scolding her daughter. “as soon as the concert was over, he changed and went to the hotel to see you. he thought you’d be there.”

“but i don’t have a ride home, and my phone died” you explained, doe-eyed as you waited for wooyoung, or any of the boys, to take the hint and quickly take you to the hotel to your boyfriend.

“you could just ask for it, you know?” wooyoung tsked, but finally surrendered to your big, brown eyes with a sigh. “give me two seconds to look for the car keys. i’ll take you there.”

and that’s what he did as fast as lighting since he knew they’d only have that night all for themselves before flying back out to korea. the next day would be full of promotion of their songs to the locals and their stage in coachella, so san wouldn’t be able to even spend a bit of his day with you. 

during the ride to the hotel, wooyoung spoke, “hey just don’t tire him out since we have quite the amount of work to do tomorrow.”

“you know, you could say something like ‘have a nice time together’, ‘take care of him’, ‘call me if you need anything-” before you could continue, he interrupted you briskly. 

“oh hell no. the both of you are responsible adults who know how to take care of themselves without someone else’s help so don’t even try to bother me tonight because i’m exhausted as shit.” he confessed, hands adjusting their position on the steering wheel when cornering.

“oh so now you’re saying i’m a burden?” you asked ironically, knowing wooyoung would catch it was only a joke.

“oh you do know how to think!” he smiled looking away from the road for a bit to lock gazes with you. wrinkles decorated the corner of your eyes as you closed them a little.

“go kill yourself.” you huffed.

“shut up, you love me,” his puckering lips sent a flying kiss to you. he stopped his words briefly, “actually you kind of have to, since i’m taking you with your beloved boyfriend.”

“touché” you agreed. 

the ride to the hotel was quick and calm since you were talking and joking animatedly with wooyoung. and when you least expected it, the car stopped moving. consequently, you turned to look out through your window, yellow lights, and gold decorations hurting your eyes with how beaming they looked, even when it was one in the morning.

“here we are.” wooyoung turned to look at you, his sincere eyes transmitting warmth, “remember what i told you-”

“yeah, i got it mom,” you answered, rolling your eyes vexingly. the man gave you an annoying gaze, so you replied, “what? you’re acting as if you were my mother! chill out, for fuck’s sake. as you said, both of us are responsible adults who know how to take care of ourselves.” you used his own words as a weapon to defend yourself against his exaggerated concern.

“whatever. just go,” he unlocked the car’s door so you could get out of the car once you finished your little conversation. “he’s been a pain in the ass lately because he hasn’t had time to see you.”

“imma get going then,” your hand approached the car door handle and finally opened it and got out of the vehicle. “thank you, woo. i owe you one.”

“you owe me way too many to count ’em” wooyoung wheezed. “but yeah, we’ll add it to the list.” he gave you one final smile, which you reciprocated sweetly.

you finally closed the door and watched wooyoung make his way back to where coachella was taking place, he’d probably go to enjoy the rest of the night’s stages with his members. you genuinely wished for him to do well and arrive with the boys safely, but now you had something more important to do: pamper your successful boyfriend after his dream night at coachella.

after you saw wooyoung getting lost on the dark LA highway, you turned around and ran towards the hotel to get into the elevator and quickly dial the floor of your boyfriend’s room.

once there, before your brain could think about it, your legs moved on their own and guided you recklessly toward the door. you hit your knuckles against it a few times, but there was no response.

“sannie? it’s yn. are you there?” you mutter softly against the door frame. another moment of silence came in response.

remembering your boyfriend had given you the key card, you pulled it out of your coat and faced it against the handle. after a soft peep sounded, you opened the door. just to be greeted with a dim-lighted room.

you wandered around the room, looking carefully at the floor so as not to bump your feet against any furniture or step on any item of clothing that, perhaps in a hurry, had been forgotten on the carpeted floor. you kept repeating your boyfriend’s name until the silence stunned you. the dazzling city lights illuminating what the poor little lamp that rested on the nightstand could not illuminate.

suddenly everything went silent. until you heard, in the back of your head, a faded tune. you quickly recognized the melody and started humming the song, the lyrics of the weeknd’s starboy being the only thing you could think about.

once again, you knocked a few times on the door, this time receiving a response from the other side. a dull “who is it?” was heard. “it’s me, love. yn.” you replied.

“oh, babe! come in!” he said happily, you could imagine the adorable smile drawn on his lips.

you turned the handle gently. and lord, didn’t the scenery you were greeted with turned you on.

your boyfriend’s toned body resting on the bathtub, lavender-scented bubbles covering most of it, his nipples being exposed to the fresh bathroom air that would soon turn into a heavier one, and his arms resting on each side of the tub. a serene, yet excited, expression decorating your boyfriend’s gaze.

“hi, beautiful,” he welcomed you. his eyes becoming crescent moons due to the effect of his beaming smile.

“there they are, those beautiful eyes i love so much,” you mumbled, walking right next to him to caress his left cheek soothingly. “how’re you feeling, champ?”

“alive as fuck,” both of you giggled at his response, your loving gaze locking with his for a moment of comfortable silence. suddenly you felt his hand fondling yours.

“mind joining me here?” his sharp eyes turning darker than they already were as they looked at you. fortunately for your boyfriend, you were willing to give him the moon and the stars that night.

you still can’t explain how you ended up on top of san, the water covering up to your navels, while he moved his thumb masterfully over your clit and his fingers repeatedly entered your cunt. his phalanges stretched you deliciously, causing several moans and moans from you.

“is that the spot, sweetheart? you're shaking so much.” his voice was hoarse and deep as the ocean, causing dizziness to affect your common sense.

“y-yes, don’t stop, please- ahh! ngh...” you could barely answer.

“sorry, love.” he announced before stopping his movements, drawing a annoyed, pathetic whine from your swollen lips. before you could insult him, he spoke first. “’wanna feel your tight cunt cumming around me, pretty.” during his brief pause, a pitiful cry from you was heard. “will you let me?”

“yes!” you answered desperately, “y...yes, i’m all yours, sannie. use me.”

san let out deep groan, which resonated inside your ears and made your heart jump out of your ribcage for a second. you rapidly adjusted yourself so you could reach the height of his crotch and massage his veiny, prominent erection, then align it to your entrance.

“go down slowly, don’t want my pretty girl to break.” he expressed, his soft, low voice driving you insane. still, you looked at him with cocked eyebrows.

“break? hah. surely, coachella drove your ego up to the clouds.” your eyes stabbing daggers into his. his hands found a home on your hips, slightly drawing them down to insert his cock inside you. your hand landing on his bare chest stopping his every move.

“nah. it’s just that you’re kind of fragile after all.”

you knew he was messing with you, provoking you. if there was one thing he always reminded you of, it was how strong, determined, and passionate you were, and it was one of the many features that made him fall deeply in love with you.

“let’s see who’s the fragile one here” you went down without warning on his cock, surprisingly touching your cervix all at once. a moan was snatched from both of you. your shaking body began to move carefully up and down him.

“f-fuck, yn- mm,” you heard a strangled moan from your lover, his lower lip was caught in between his teeth.

“f-fragile? that’s y...your- ah! your shit ass cock.” you manage to respond, notoriously provoking him.

“i don’t think it’s a shit ass cock, beautiful- ngh.” he panted, “just look how full you are.” he held your hand delicately despite the momentary brutality and placed it over your belly, a small lump formed there, “full of me, and my shit ass cock.” san breathed, kissing your collarbone, leaving cute lovebites in it. “you cry and beg for it every single night, hun. what does that have to say about you, hm?” a pitiful whine left your lips, demonstrating san that you were truly incapable of formulating coherent words. you were just too fucked out.

“well, lemme tell you,” he continued. “you’re just a dumb girl who needs to be fucked by a big fucking cock, otherwise, you don’t stop whining.” he said profoundly, his voice stimulating all your senses at once as he absolutely ravished you. “isn’t that right, princess?”

“i- ah! sannie, pleeease.” you blubbered, your eyes shedding the most precious tears.

“i asked you a question, darling. and i expect you to answer.” he sentenced sternly, grabbing your jaw and mushing your cheeks together. a pout was, therefore, formed on your lips.

“yes! yesyesyes, you’re right. i just need and think about being fucked by your big fucking cock-” you acknowledged, immersed and lost in the feeling, feeling like he was fucking you just like the first time.

“you’re such a cutie when you whine for me.” he chuckled while you, on the other hand, couldn’t hold back your screams anymore. his eyes stuck to your bouncing breasts, and your parted lips.

“what happened, princess? is it too much?” he cooed at you, looking at you adoringly, his eyes beaming at the sight of you.

“n-no,” you tried with all your might not to stumble over your words, but it was almost impossible since your thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion of your boyfriend's cock into your tight cunt.

“no? let’s see if it is now,”

your bastard boyfriend directed his hand toward your vagina, his ring finger and middle finger deliciously touched your clit. san watched as you exploded inside, his cock was bringing you closer to an abysmal orgasm that you doubted you could withstand, but you were a masochist, and despite all of this, you continued to go up and down on his cock sloppily.

“san! i’m s-so close- fuck!” your frowned eyebrows, reddened cheeks, swollen lips, and arched back made san float, he couldn’t worship you more than he already did at that moment. he was internally so grateful that you were his. only his to kiss, to hug, to fuck, and to adore.

you had had many guys behind you in the past, and they all promised the same thing: ‘i promise you the moon and the stars’, but absolutely none of them reached the level that choi san reached, who promised and delivered to make you see the stars, the moon and– fuck, he made you see the entire milky way every time you were with him.

“go on, babe. let it out for me, i got you,” he hid his face in the crook of your neck when you slowed down bouncing, and then he lifted it up. his lips brushed your neck, a position which he took advantage of to lick and suck on the side of it, adorning it with some nice and new hickeys next to the ones he did some moments ago.

san did everything he could to give you a good orgasm, a strong one, but pleasant. he loved seeing your expression as you had reached the peak of pleasure, a squirt erupted between your bodies, causing strangled moans to come from both mouths. your walls became tighter, squeezing out every drop of cum held in san’s hard cock. you felt how a strip of that viscous, white essence warmed your insides even more. the feeling even being comfortable in some kind of way.

“see? i didn’t break, idiot. hah,” you huffed out a sigh, looking at that beautiful face that you would never get tired of.

“mhm, you’re always so strong and beautiful. aren’t you, my love?” he reacted breathlessly as he stroked your cheek, as if it were the finest diamond.

“always, and only for you,” you wrinkled your nose as you looked at him foolishly in love.

you turned and felt stupid every time you were around this man, but what could you say? you weren’t complaining at all.

that man was capable of loving you in all your facets, in all your states and moments.

you were also grateful that choi san was yours, and solely yours.

“well, big boy,” you started, settling into his chest with him still inside you, keeping you warm, “i’m very proud of you and your achievements, love. you really brought home the trophy.”

“actually, you came here all by yourself.” he flirted, a cocky smile causing a giggle to ring inside your ribcage. “hm. thank you, princess. but the actual trophy is you and will always be you.”

you hid your face with your hands, splashing a little water unintentionally, “don’t start being all mushy, you softie. i’m gonna cry otherwise,”

he laughed, his voice causing your skin to vibrate lightly. “okay okay. wanna finally wash up?”

“can we just... stay like this? just for a bit,” you closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth your boyfriend provided you.

���of course, princess. whatever you want,” he held you in his arms safely, making you sleepy. two minutes of silence filled with tranquility and love passed, until san started talking, “remember you’re always my trophy.” he muttered lowly with his honey-dripping voice.

“babe,”

“hm?”

“shut up.”

| masterlist

[norrisleclercf1]

Little Champions

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader x Max Verstappen

Rating: PG

Warnings: None, just some good ole fluff

Words: 1.1K

Synopsis: It's just a normal morning in the Hamilton-Verstappen household

A/N: Yeahhhhh this was totally self indulgent

You knew the moment your little one was up; it was hard not to tell when they were awake. The little patter of feet and a giggle had you smiling, but you knew you needed to pretend to still be sleeping.

"Papa," you hear the groan of your husband next to you and a body shift. A little giggle leaves your little one's mouth, and a little weight joins you in the bed. 

"Mijn paardenbloem, you have to be quiet. Mommy is still sleeping." Max wraps his arm around his little girl and smiles, seeing the curls she inherited and the bright blue eyes that match him. "Papa, where's Daddy?" Sophie asks, looking around for her other father. "He's running, now, lay down and we can cuddle." You smile when you hear that, as Max hated being cuddled, but when it came to your baby girl, 

"Yes!" She squeals, and Max chuckles as you hear bodies moving. After some time, it grows quiet, and you peek your eyes open, seeing the sleeping faces of Max and Sophie. Silently reaching over, you grab your phone and take a picture of them, sending it to your other partner and then climbing out of bed. Walking to their side, you lean over and kiss their cheeks, their nose twitching the same way. 

Stepping out, you head to the kitchen to start on breakfast. Opening the window, you listen to the birds and smile at your little garden, which grows veggies and flowers. Sassy and Jimmy move around your feet but make sure not to trip you, as you can't see them now. "Woah," you giggle, feeling a little kick, and look down at your round stomach; about five months along, you touch where the baby kicked you. "Easy, little one," You tease and rub the area, feeling the baby kick you again. 

Humming, you start cooking the eggs and sausage and cutting up some fruit for Max and Sophie when you gasp, feeling cold hands wrap around you. "Good morning," Shivering, you turn and stare at your gorgeous, sweaty husband. "Morning, Lewis." Lewis hums and kisses you gently, which makes you sigh. "Where are Max and Sophie?" He asks, and you nod your head towards the bedroom. "Knocked out, but this one here is kicking me," Lewis chuckles and steps forward, placing his hand on your round stomach. 

"Yeah, just like Max. A fucking terror." You giggle, and Lewis smiles, bending down and kissing you right where they kick you. The kicking stops, and Lewis sighs, "I've got to take a shower," You nod and turn back to the fruit, Lewis walking into the bedroom. Tiptoeing into the room, Lewis smiles, seeing Max and Sophie curled up into one another. Leaning over, Lewis places a soft kiss on Max's temple and one on his daughter's cheek. "You smell," Lewis chuckles lowly, looking at bright blue eyes. "Yes, I was training." Max smiles, making no attempt to get up. 

"It's the summer break, Lew, enjoy it." Lewis moves, fingers moving through the short strands of blonde hair. "Just makes me feel better; besides, I have much to think about." He whispers, and Max nods, understanding. It would be Lewis's last season with Mercedes, and the car still had trouble. "Anything I can help with?" Max was soft with his question; he knew Lewis liked to work things out alone. "No, baby, I'm leaving soon anyways," Max nods and sighs, Sophie moving closer, staring down at his daughter. Lewis thinks back to when he made the decision. 

"Everything will be okay, Lewis, and we'll fight each other on track soon. You're not done." Lewis looks at Max, staring at their daughter and taking her in. "Also, I think she'd like it if Papa and Daddy were on the same podium again." That's why Lewis had to leave; Mercedes was putting more pressure on him, and he wanted to live closer to his family. Constantly flying back and forth from Britain to Monaco. At least with Ferrari, they won't bother him when he is home with family. 

Lewis's phone rings and he groans; Max reaches behind him, grabs Lewis's phone, and sees it's Toto. "No, we're about to leave for vacation; he shouldn't even be calling you," Max grumbles, sitting up and pulling away when Lewis reaches for the phone. "Max, give me the phone." Max shakes his head no and swipes left, ending the annoying ringing. "Max," Lewis groans, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Max, phone." Max shakes his head no and gets a look in his eyes. 

Reaching over the bed, Max dodges it and lands on the other side, Sophie sitting up confused. "Max, come on. It's too early for this," Max chuckles and holds the phone up. "No, Lewis, you promised. No phones on the trip, and I see this as a work phone." Lewis leans on the bed, and Sophie giggles, thinking they are playing. "Daddy, play with me." Lewis looks up and chuckles, his baby girl's hair a mess. "Baby girl, your hair is a mess." Lewis chuckles, and Max takes the opportunity to bolt out of the room; Lewis moves but misses him and groans as Sophie laughs loudly. 

"What are you doing?" you yell, but Max doesn't answer. He runs to his SIM room and slams the door shut. "Lewis?" Lewis carries Sophie out, who giggles and worms her way down, Lewis sits her down, and she runs after her Papa. "Papa! Open!" You hear the SIM door open and then giggle, and the door closes fast. "What is he doing?" "Hiding my work phone in the cat's toys again." He shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of the fruit. 

"You should stop bringing that phone into the house, Max hides it all the time." Lewis hums and takes a bite of his vegan pancakes. "I know, but it makes him and Sophie laugh, so it doesn't bother me." You smile, leaning over the best you can and kissing your husband. "Max, Sophie, breakfast!" Tiny feet and then heavier feet behind her as they come in, smiling brightly. She had his smile, which makes you and Lewis melt seeing it. 

"Daddy, uppy?" Sophie gives big puppy eyes, and Lewis can't resist, so he picks her up and settles her in his lap. "Can I sit there too, Daddy," Lewis cuts a glare at Max, which makes you giggle, Sophie laughing only cause you are laughing. "Find you're own seat." Max pouts but sits down next to Lewis as you serve breakfast. Lewis and Max help Sophie eat, and she basks in being spoiled by her Papa and daddy. 

Staring at your little family, you smile, touching your growing stomach with much love. Max looks up and smiles one of his toothy smiles, which makes you smile back. Yeah, you love your little family. 

[crushmeeren]

Quickies with the MHA Boys!

Everyone involved in this work of fiction is 18+/aged up — if that bothers you block me or scroll on.

Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki

How the MHA Boys Eat You Out Link

———————————————————————

Bakugou Katsuki

Katsuki doesn’t mind quickies per se. He just has to be in the right mood for it. He’d much rather take his sweet time. Not wanting to rush, being able to relax afterwards — otherwise he’d rather just not have sex at all.

But there are times when he’s frustrated. When your schedules haven’t lined up, when you haven’t had sex in weeks — he gets pent up.

Katsuki’s the kind of guy who will lounge on your bed in just his tight black boxer briefs. Arms folded behind his head as he lazily waits for you to get out of the shower.

He knows it gives you a view that you’re unable to resist of his unreasonably slim waist and toned arms — as the position allows his biceps to flex involuntarily.

And of course, he’s completely aware that you have to leave for work in less than 20 minutes. He just doesn’t give a single shit.

He’s been dreaming about your warm pussy sucking in his cock in all night and there’s not a chance in hell he’s letting you go until he fucks you silly.

Tilting his head, he leers at your naked body as you drop your towel onto the bed. He urges you in a low, rasping voice to “come here baby,” sporting a wolfish grin.

You already know what he wants. It makes your stomach burn pleasantly with arousal.

“Five minutes Katsuki, I’m serious.” You shoot him a pointed glare. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“As if I won’t have you cumming in less than two minutes.” The grin he levels you with is sharp around the edges.

Although, the man’s right to be confident.

Katsuki will push you onto the bed, cock already stiff and thick when he wiggles between your legs, yanking his briefs down to mid thigh.

You’re turned on enough that he slides in with relative ease, even if it burns a little, because let’s be real — he’s so hot you would take him any time, any place.

Katsuki will tug one of your legs up, hooking it over his shoulder. He’ll bend you in half and circle his fingers around your throat, applying pressure that’s just right.

With precision, he wholly makes this quickie worth it. Katsuki has your toes curling, cheeks flushed. Choking on your own moans as you cum.

He does exceptionally well with the time limit, pulling out and cumming all over your belly with a groan that leaks out between gritted teeth.

Almost exactly five minutes on the dot.

————————————————————————

Kirishima Eijirou

Eijirou has the spirit of a happy, care free, lovesick golden retriever. So naturally, he loves physical touch.

He’s addicted to constantly being in your space. Hugging you, holding your hand, pulling you to sit on his lap, kissing you.

And if we’re being honest, whenever he gets the chance, he’ll be inside you too. Stretching you out. Making you feel so good it melts your brain — if only because it makes him feel twice the amount of pleasure to you see come undone.

Needless to say, Eijirou enjoys quickies a fuck ton. He also is the sort of guy who gets literal heart eyes whenever you initiate one with him.

He’ll be relaxing on the couch, lost in some sort of video game when you snatch the controller out of his hands and place it out of his reach.

Eijirou sputters, glancing up at you in surprise. His startled expression turns to one of knowing when you straddle his lap. Your sundress bunching up and exposing the soft skin of your inner thighs in the process.

“I’ve got 10 minutes until I leave for my appointment. Wanna have sex Ei?” You ask teasingly, a coy smile playing on your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, gently trailing your fingers up the nape of his neck.

You swear if Eijirou had a tail it would be wagging. He moans low in his throat. Your light touch and filthy words are all it takes to get him hard, stiff cock pressing eagerly into your thigh.

“How could I ever say no to you gorgeous?” He beams at you with his sharp teeth, resting his hands your hips. You snicker, raising up a little so he can slid his shorts down enough to free himself — just under his balls.

He sneaks your panties to the side, rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, trying to hold in a whine.

He has mercy on you, gripping his shaft and parting your pussy with his cock until his head catches. You ease yourself down onto him until you’re fully seated in his lap.

You both simultaneously breathe out a sigh of relief.

After that, he lets you ride him until you’re sweaty and satiated. He praises you sweetly, holding your waist with a tight grip and helping you bounce.

“That’s it baby, take what you need. I’m right here, I’ve got you. Love it when you cum for me,” he coos, voice tender and adoring.

It’s effortless to cum like that, face buried in his shoulder while you rock back and forth in his lap. Letting him hug you tightly to his chest.

Once you come back down to earth, you check for the time, noticing you’ve only got two minutes left.

You taunt Eijirou with the time limit, telling him it’s his turn to cum before he has to take care of himself.

He chases his own pleasure desperately. Kissing you to keep himself from biting marks into your neck.

You’re only running a couple minutes late when you go, leaving Eijirou a sticky, gooey mess on the couch.

————————————————————————

Todoroki Shouto

Shouto, he’s, well — a mix of the two really. He enjoys taking his time, but he also cannot keep himself out of your bubble.

One of Shouto’s absolute favorite past times is cuddling with you.

The coziness of your body, the way you fit like a missing puzzle piece into his chest. The tender kisses he can trail across your neck and the ones you give him in return.

That’s why Shouto takes immense pleasure in those honey like, sweet and warm, limbs riddled with sleep morning quickies.

He can’t resist the temptation.

You’ll hear Shouto’s piercing alarm go off in the morning, jostling you from your dreams. The sheets rustle as Shouto maneuvers to turn off his alarm.

Your lids are droopy, and your limbs lag by a couple seconds when you turn over to cling to him.

You sprawl out half way on top of his chest and you slip your arms around his neck, nuzzling his shoulder.

“Sho,” you mumble in his ear, voice rasp and faint. He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Mm?” The noise he makes rumbles in his chest

“I want you before you go, please,” you plead softly, kissing along his jawline. He squeezes you tighter briefly, responding without a trace of hesitation.

“Turn over baby, I’ll have to make it quick.”

So, you shift around until you’re on your side. Back facing Shouto as he scoots in close, wiggling down until his forehead rests at the back of your neck.

He shoves the large T-shirt you’re wearing up to your ribs. Smoothing his hand over your bare ass and squeezing until your breath hitches in your throat. Shouto smacks your ass playfully.

Automatically you lift your thigh and Shouto grips underneath it to keep it in that position, shifting his legs until he’s got the right angle.

The silky, warm skin of his full cock slides along your pussy and you jolt. He must’ve got rid of his briefs at some point.

Shouto shift his hips, pressing the head of his cock to your pussy, rocking his hips unhurriedly until he’s sliding in and out completely with each thrust.

You’re already crying out his name, gripping the sheets.

“Is this what you needed Angel?” Shouto pants hotly against your neck. “Your pussy feels so good,” he moans, tone pushing into a whine.

You can’t speak, still halfway asleep as Shouto takes you with slow and deliberate thrusts.

He repeatedly presses into your sweet spot as your climax builds gradually. It’s like a faucet sluggishly dripping warm water into a cup until it fills to the brim and overflows through your veins.

It doesn’t take long for Shouto to cum after your pussy clenches around him like a vice.

He presses in until his balls are flush against your skin. Biting into the back of your shoulder blade with a high pitched moan. That will definitely leave a mark.

“I love you,” Shouto murmurs, planting a kiss to your cheek after he helps you get clean enough to fall back asleep.

You’re out like a light before you hear the door shut, hoping Shouto makes it to the agency on time.

[m0r1bund]

Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts

My comic for “Queer Compassion in 15 Comics,” a collaborative anthology that blends social science and art to illustrate LGBTQ+ experiences of compassion. You can read it online for free, or purchase a physical copy at that link :)

I was asked to write a statement about this piece, which I will share here:

There are some difficult feelings in the comic about estrangement, belonging, and cultural longing. The story didn’t click for me, though, until I started reading the stories of others in the community from the research. There’s a lot of beauty in there, but there’s also a lot of hurt. I wanted to squeeze everyone’s hands and somehow find the perfect words of comfort— and isn’t that all that anyone wants to do when they see family going through it? So I started thinking of it as a call-and-response between you, at your lowest point, and the ghosts of your ancestors. If they could talk to you, what would they say? “Look—you’re safe and fed.” “You’re alive.” “How magnificent!” “You can cry, but wouldn’t it feel better if you did it in the shower?” “Now hold my hand and walk with me.” “Take care of yourself.” “Brush your teeth.” “Text her back.” “We love you.”

It’s surreal to share this. I began working with the anthology crew in 2021, towards the beginning of my undergrad. In just under a week, I’ll be graduating. This project has been living in the back of my brain for the past three years, a source of comfort and catharsis. Now we get to inflict it on all of you, hahahaha…!! Sincerely, I feel so lucky to have been able to participate in it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who leaves their touch on this anthology— scientists, artists, interviewees, readers, and beyond.

[ham1lton]

QUESTION TIME?

pairings: (platonic) lewis hamilton x f1 driver!reader.

warnings: sexist comments. interviewers asking rude questions.

summary: being the only female driver on the grid means being the unofficial spokesperson for women in motorsports and you’re tired of it.

author’s note: a part of my newest series! i’m still actively looking for more scenarios and ideas regarding this universe! so if u have any thoughts or questions? let me know! i’d love to hear them <3

“do you worry that being more open and accessible to different drivers will lower the level of competition within formula one?”

the silence could be cut with a knife. everyone in the room looked at you expectantly, eyes wide as they waited for your answer. you took a sip of water as you collected your thoughts.

sometimes, when you were younger and karting, you’d wish that you had been born a boy. that might have been an unpopular opinion but you held it occasionally, although not for the reasons one might think. being a man would have meant that you would have been treated as just another driver rather than a novelty. no one else on the panel was expected to act like a mouthpiece for their entire gender.

taking a deep breath, you composed yourself before addressing the question. "i understand the concern about maintaining the high level of competition within formula one. however, i believe that diversity and inclusivity in motorsports can actually enhance the competition rather than detract from it."

you glanced around the room, meeting the expectant gazes of the reporters and fellow drivers. "by opening up opportunities to drivers from different backgrounds and experiences, we bring new perspectives and skills to the sport. this diversity can drive innovation and push the entire field to new heights."

pausing for a moment to gather your thoughts, you continued, "i don't necessarily think talent and competitiveness are determined by gender or any other factor. it's about skill, dedication, and passion for racing. embracing diversity not only reflects the world we live in but also strengthens formula one as a whole."

as you finished speaking, you could sense a shift in the atmosphere of the room. while your response might not have been what everyone expected, you knew it came from a place of honesty and conviction. and deep down, you hoped that your words would spark a broader conversation about the importance of inclusion in motorsports.

the room digests your response, slowly and steadily until another interviewer speaks up. "i get where you're coming from, but let's be real here. formula one is about pushing the limits, about being the best of the best. we can't afford to water down the competition just for the sake of diversity."

you respected his perspective, knowing that he always spoke his mind but god, if that wasn’t the worst way to word that. "i hear you," you replied, "but i don't see diversity as watering down the competition. if anything, it's about elevating it. different perspectives bring new challenges and force us to raise our own game. isn't that what racing is all about?"

he paused, considering your words. "i suppose you have a point," he conceded, nodding thoughtfully. "but we still need to ensure that the drivers who make it to formula one are truly the best, regardless of where they come from."

you nodded in agreement, acknowledging the importance of maintaining high standards in the sport. "absolutely," you agreed. "and i believe that by embracing diversity, we can do just that. it's not about lowering the bar; it's about expanding it to include drivers who might have otherwise been overlooked."

after a moment, lewis, who had been your unofficial mentor throughout the process of integrating into formula one, raises his hand. he had been listening to the whole exchange with a furrowed brow.

“i just want to echo what y/n has said,” he began. “diversity isn’t a threat, if anything it’s our greatest asset.”

he turned to address the room, his gaze steady. "we've seen time and time again how diversity helps drive innovation and pushes the sport forward. and it's not just about gender or race – it's about welcoming drivers from all walks of life and giving them the opportunity to shine."

lewis paused, letting his words sink in. "formula one should be a reflection of the world we live in – diverse, inclusive, and full of opportunity. and by embracing that diversity, we make the sport stronger, more competitive, and more exciting for fans around the globe."

you smile at that and grin at the interviewer.

“is that a good enough answer for you?” he nods and your remark sparks laughter in the room. after a moment, the interviewers target your peers and you take a deep breath. free at last.

when the interview concludes, you find yourself walking step by step with lewis, who smiles at you.

“you answered those questions well. i’m proud.”

“just followed the hamilton playbook.” you tease. “who knows? maybe i’ll be fighting you for that championship next.”

“i’d welcome the challenge.” lewis laughs, his eyes bright with amusement. “but seriously y/n, never underestimate the power of your voice and your presence in this sport. i always say that the goal is to leave the sport better than we found it, and you’re only in your second season and doing that. i have no doubt you’ll achieve great things.”

his voice is thick with sincerity and he places a warm hand on your shoulder before leaving. as he disappears, a young girl wearing your merch comes bounding up to you. she’s grinning wide with a missing tooth and when she speaks, her accent is thickly american with a strong lisp.

“y/n! hi!” she waves a massive poster in front of you. it has your name, your number and a message of support. “y/n you’re the coolest! will you sign my poster please?”

with a warm smile, you kneel down and grin at her.

“of course! i’d be honoured.” your assistant hands you a sharpie and you scrawl your signature in the corner of her poster. her parents taking a photo of the two of you and then with her parents permission, you sign her hat and her shirt. “thank you so much for all of your support. it means everything and more to me. keep cheering me on okay? i do this for all of you.”

“i will!” she beams. you laugh and pass your assistant her pen. “you’re my hero y/n! thank you!”

she bounces off and her parents wave while saying their thanks. your heart swelled up after that interaction, reminding you as to why you do this. why you deal with all those incessant annoying questions because it gives you the opportunity to help inspire the next generation of young racers.

as you stand there, you see a guy with a camera walking your way. your eyes widen as you make a sneaky escape. today has been filled with enough questions, you think as you hide out in gavin’s office.

[sunnitheapollokid]

🎙️🌸┊ ༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄, 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 ‘𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑!

↳ hoo boys x popstar princess headcanons <3

characters in this thread : percy jackson, leo valdez, jason grace, frank zhang. ೃ࿔₊•

☀️ sunni’s notes : THIS IDEA HAS BEEN ENGRAVED IN MY MIND FOR FOREVA! and i finally get to write about it because my writer’s block is slowly goin’ away 🫶 (barely) i haven’t checked my notifs because i’m tryna do a semi-break right now!! but i wanted to post something for y’all >0< ANYWAYYY obvi it’s sabrina inspired because i love her i’m a true carpenter amen amen. GO STREAM ESPRESSO. happy reading bebis!! sunkisses, — sunni!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 ♪ ˖ *

୨୧ your biggest supporter!!!

୨୧ has all your merch. the cap? yeah, he’s got it. the shirt. got it. the stickers? jacket? don’t even need to ask him, he’s got it.

୨୧ obviously adores your singing voice, he makes you sing every chance he gets.

୨୧ percy knows how to play the guitar, both electric and acoustic so he usually makes appearances during your shows.

୨୧ YOUR FANBASE LOVES HIM?? like sometimes it seems like they love him more than you do.

୨୧ so many edits, like CRAZY amount of ship edits.

୨୧ he likes to take a peek on what your outfits look like, but you tell him it has to be a surprise!!

୨୧ if you succeed in hiding your fits, his jaw is dropped at the first sight of you on stage.

୨୧ knows all of your songs, plays them in the car, even when you tell him not to.

୨୧ “WHAT’S THIS?? ESPRESSO?? BY WHAT?? WHO’S THIS SINGER?”

୨୧ “oh shut it.”

୨୧ his favorite color’s blue, so sometimes you wear blue accessories on stage.

୨୧ almost signifying that you’re bringing a part of him on stage.

୨୧ you wear blue bows, bracelets, maybe a few rings.

୨୧ percy absolutely melts when you do, because he knows exactly that you’re thinking of him.

୨୧ you even have a seperate blue mic just for him.

୨୧ during tours, he gets busy with college so he can’t really come to every show, but he tries to watch it live even during lessons.

୨୧ “mr. jackson, if you don’t tuck your phone away i’ll make it a point to fail you.”

୨୧ “just mad you don’t have a popstar as a girlfriend.”

୨୧ “what was that?” — “nothing!”

୨୧ and he picks you up from the airport whenever you come back, every. single. time.

୨୧ co-wrote some songs with you, but likes to have you take the credit since you’re the singer anyway.

୨୧ songs include : “miss america & the heartbreak prince.” — “snooze.” — “somebody to you.” — “the only exception.” — “style.”

𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐳 ♪ ˖ *

୨୧ calls you ‘princesa’ and ‘mi párajo cantor’ A LOTTT.

୨୧ and it still makes you flush everytime.

୨୧ leo valdez is the type to how do you say this??

୨୧ totally forget that you’re the ‘princess popstar’ sometimes.

୨୧ there was one time you two were on a date,

୨୧ leo watching you eat then he just goes,

୨୧ “.. YOU’RE A POPSTAR!!”

୨୧ and he shakes your shoulders like the world’s gonna end.

୨୧ “leo! leo! amor! quiet down!”

୨୧ always making sure he goes to ALL YOUR SHOWS.

୨୧ if your guitar / or any instrument ever breaks, he’s already there fixing it for you before you could tell him.

୨୧ likes to plan out your outfits, and almost all the time, THEY EAAAT!!

୨୧ “miss popstar princess!! who styled you today??”

୨୧ “oh! my boyfriend!”

୨୧ too, loves your singing voice. or your voice in general, he’s so whipped when he hears you say his name.

୨୧ WHEN HIS NAME IS IN YOUR SONGS??

୨୧ he’s gonna marry you.

୨୧ he has a t-shirt and in black bold letters it just says, “I LOVE MY POPSTAR GF.”

୨୧ the crowd loves seeing leo in the crowd hanging with your fans.

୨୧ he’s not much of a singer, but he’ll dance his heart out amongst your fans.

୨୧ flying kisses, so many flying kisses.

୨୧ he also likes doing your hair, and again, THEY EAAAT!!

୨୧ makes you think of how much of an amazing girl dad he would be.

୨୧ “guys do you see how cute my hair is?! leo did it!!”

୨୧ you give them a lil twirl, and the crowd goes wild.

୨୧ immedietly peppers you with kisses after a show backstage.

୨୧ he makes all your jewelry for you, since he’s good with metal anyhoo.

୨୧ you have a polaroid of you and him stuck to the back of your guitar.

୨୧ he has a polaroid of you on stage on his drum set.

୨୧ oh yeah, did i mention he’s drummer?

୨୧ some songs of yours don’t usually have drums in them, but when they do, you know who to call!!

୨୧ this man is defo sleep deprived.

୨୧ “mami? can you sing me to sleep?”

୨୧ he falls asleep to your voice in a snap, his arms wrapped around your waist like a glove.

୨୧ songs include : “that boy is mine.” — “this love.” — “espresso.” — “ready or not.” — “lover.” — “our song.”

𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ♪ ˖ *

୨୧ jason loves the idea of you being a popstar!! but makes sure to let you know that even if you weren’t, he’d love you regardless.

୨୧ the man doesn’t dance, but he can sing pretty well.

୨୧ you’ll catch a glimpse of him humming and swaying to your songs in the crowd.

୨୧ OMG OMG. jason loves matching with you!!

୨୧ it’s sort of his way of saying ‘i love you and i’m here to support you all the way.’

୨୧ JSVAHGSBA

୨୧ sorry brain buffered there.

୨୧ his favorite outfits of you two were these blue and light purple coordinated oufits.

୨୧ the fans loved it. it was all over.

୨୧ you guys went trending a ton.

୨୧ #(name)andjason or your guys’ ship name on twitter went viral almost more than twenty times in the span of like— three months.

୨୧ jason doesn’t really care about the fame though.

୨୧ he still likes to go on those corny and normal fun dates with his girl.

୨୧ if the paparazzi comes to harass you, he genuinely but gently threatens them to leave you alone.

୨୧ can i just say,

୨୧ A GOD AT PHOTOGRAPHY.

୨୧ he knows all the good angles and poses.

୨୧ he’s your literal pocket camera.

୨୧ why hire a professional photographer when you had a boyfriend who can do it for you???

୨୧ “on your right baby— yeah, then turn there, that looks good.”

୨୧ “here jace? is my hair flat in the back?”

୨୧ “it’s never flat, you look great honey.”

୨୧ i just brain buffered again.

୨୧ OH OH!! jason plays the bass!! i think it would fit!

୨୧ he doesn’t like going on stage though, he’s super shy. and he has a hint of stage-fright on him.

୨୧ he’ll play some songs for you in private though! and you could hear some bass from him in a few of your songs.

୨୧ songs include : “daylight.” — “soulmate.” — “invisible string.” — “slut!” — “beautiful boy.” — “tattoed heart.”

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐳𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 ♪ ˖ *

୨୧ HE’S SUCH A SWEETHEARTTT.

୨୧ he’s your breath of fresh air when the fame gets too overwhelming.

୨୧ “hard day sweetie?”

୨୧ he gives you the best hugs when you come back from a shooting, a show, whichever.

୨୧ makes sure to stocks up all your snacks backstage for you.

୨୧ he got you a locket for your anniversary, and you wear it on stage.

୨୧ he smiles to himself everytime he catches a glimpse of it around your neck.

୨୧ what’s inside the locket you may ask??

୨୧ literally just him.

୨୧ and amen to that!

୨୧ just like jason, he likes to reassure you that even without the popstar thing— he loves you. body and soul.

୨୧ spoils you!! 100%!!

୨୧ he knows exactly what you want, your eye is caught by something while shopping, he’s hopping his ass inside that store to get it for you.

୨୧ makes the calls for you when you really can’t take it to go do popstar duties.

୨୧ and he makes sure your day off is the best ever, with snuggles and cocoa kisses.

୨୧ but during shows, he’s actually super chill!!

୨୧ except the part where he sings his heart out to every song, because he defo knows ALL YOUR SONGS.

୨୧ the fans are shocked sometimes, but they love him.

୨୧ he’s so friendly to your fans too!! during meet and greets he makes appearances, and he gives them the biggest hug ever.

୨୧ he also thanks them for supporting you, and it makes your heart melt.

୨୧ when you’re on stage, he makes the half of those finger hearts for you to complete— and of course you complete it!!

୨୧ songs include : “pov.” — “you are in love.” — “urs.” — “bewitched.” — “every summertime.” — “like the movies.”

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 3

Gotham Academy High School was the sort of school where almost everyone was elite in some way or another. Some of them were from old money like Damian who held himself up to a very high standard in his academics and was the top of the class. Others from new money like Dash and the rest of his cohorts became very hateful of somebody like Danny who was given a scholarship by Bruce Wayne, in their eyes Danny was taking advantage of Damian not even knowing that Damian approached Danny for companionship two years ago.

This also meant that everyone including the teachers would compare Danny and Damian to each other even though they weren’t brothers. That didn’t matter though as Danny was associated with them so that was all the reason they needed.

Danny groaned as he sunk into the seat next to Damian. The lunchroom was filled with chatting students and Danny was glad he shared the next class with Damian, which happened to be English. Dash never bothered Danny when Damian was around, probably because Damian had threatened the jock. How he was threatened Danny didn’t know, Damian never told him what happened and he was a little scared to ask. 

The guy hadn’t stopped harassing Danny since he and Jazz transferred a couple years ago. The school year had barely begun and Dash had made Danny his primary target like he was making up for lost time over the summer. Danny sighed as he dropped his paper bagged lunch on the table with a little plop. Jazz had packed for him this morning hopefully before his parents arrived and contaminated the entire kitchen.

“Dash again?” his sister asked across the table, she was seated next to Tim.

“I was paired against him in dodgeball again,” Danny lamented, his head resting on his arms that were crossed on the table.

“Danny, could you just talk to Mr. Lancer or something?” Jazz asked before she took a bite from her sandwich.

Danny sighed again and unpacked his lunch, “I have but no one will listen! They all act like I’m lying or something.” The teachers at this school probably wouldn’t listen to a charity case like him. Dash was a football player and had plans to become captain of the team. Everyone at the school loved Dash and it was precisely why everyone except maybe the four students at the table they were seated looked down and sometimes even bullied Danny.

Danny ignored it all eventually, it was better just to let the jock tire himself out. 

Once Danny and Damian finished eating they made their way to English. Luckily it was easy to carry the material for a class that only required a small binder and whatever book they were reading, in this case it was ‘gone with the wind’. Danny didn’t really care about reading old literature like this but he did what he had to maintain the grades he had. He’d endure anything, even Dash’s bullying, to become an astronaut.

Danny could hardly concentrate today through his afternoon classes. For some reason he had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. He tried his best to ignore it, he was probably just tired or something. Soon the school day was out and Danny packed up whatever homework he had for the day and headed outside to wait with Jazz. Damian and Tim were probably wrapping up their classes. Tim had an AP class that ran an extra 30 minutes and Damian’s last class was art, they were doing a painting and it wasn’t unusual for Damian to finish up what he was working on as he found out over the last few years that he enjoyed painting.

“… Do you think it’ll work?” Jazz asked a hint of hesitation in her voice. Danny knew she was talking about the portal, the both of them had talked about it before. Danny glanced over at his sister, he could tell she was having trouble sleeping lately, her face looked tired and her posture was stiff with her arms crossed in front of her. Both of them had anxiety about the possibilities the portal possessed, and they were especially worried that their parents wouldn’t take it well if the portal didn’t work. 

He was equally concerned that it would work. “I hope not…” he said eventually. It was something that brought the siblings closer as the whole of their family fell apart. How their parents managed to pull off getting the funding in the first place seemed to be a miracle. Everyone called their parents crazy and dismissed all of their science as ludicrous garbage.

Danny wondered how they even managed to stay under Batman's radar, he thought that something like this would be cause for the vigilante to look into it but maybe the thought of ghosts was just that outlandish that even the dark knight himself thought it to be crazy too. Danny himself didn’t believe in anything his parents published, some of the papers even seemed to be biased somehow, even though his parents hadn’t ever actually encountered a ghost. That last part was probably the reason no one bothered to actually investigate his parents, there wasn’t really much to investigate.

The siblings waited in silence and eventually Tim and Damian showed up after their classes and the four headed to Alfred waiting by the car. 

If anyone tried to start a conversation with Danny he wasn’t paying attention. If he was being honest, his parents' portal scared him a lot. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous about it, both him and Jazz renounced the thought that ghosts could exist. Something deep down in his guts told him that he should turn and run, that what his parents were attempting was taboo and that his parents were tampering with forces unimaginable. 

No one was going to listen to a fourteen year old though so Danny kept his feelings to himself and ignored them. 

Soon they were pulled in front of their apartment and true to their word, Damian and Tim asked Alfred to park nearby. Danny and Jazz took a hesitant glance at each other as they walked into the house. 

[luveline]

I love your KBD universe, I know that Beth is having a hard time with being the weird kid and I just have to say as a lover of weird things and people I would love to see something where Bethie comes home from school happy to have met someone who LOVES that she’s a little weird!

dad!steve and his weird girls <3 mom!reader, 1k

When you get home from work with the big kids in tow, Steve’s gonna kiss you stupid. With baby Wren gurgling on his tummy and less-baby Dove sitting by his head where he lays on the couch, he’s never been this happy. He’ll be happier when the big girls are home, but for now, he’s snug as a bug, treated by his second youngest to a buffet of affection. 

“Love you,” Dove says, kissing his cheek for the tenth time in the last two minutes. He can’t stop laughing.

“I love you, too!” he says, shifting his hand to give Wren some more room. 

“Love you, dad,” Dove says.

“I know, baby, I know. Thank you for the kisses, you’re so nice.” 

Dove kisses him again. “You’re happy,” she says. 

“So happy. Can I get another kiss, you think?” 

He turns into her. She’s sitting too high to be cuddled; all Steve can do is take in her sweetness. He can’t believe how quickly her babyhood has passed into toddlerhood, and she’s been sort of a nightmare, but she’s also his little girl. She’s your daughter, her sisters’ sister. She was always going to be lovely, and Steve feels it like a loving punch as she noses at his ear. “Daddy,” she laughs, “you’re too warm.” 

“I’m blushing, babe, I’m getting all these nice kisses!” He laughs like an idiot and decides he must hug her, pulling his arm up and scooping her into his chest. 

She groans in annoyance before she realises what he’s doing, “Hug!” she says excitedly. 

“Hug!” he echoes, wrapping his arm around her. She’s starting to look less like a baby and more like a little tiny kid, which he hates and loves at the same time. “Aw, I love you, Dovey.” 

The door clatters open. Wren jumps at the sound, hiding her face in Steve’s neck, to which he gives a good back rubbing. “It’s okay, bubby, it’s just your mommy. Don’t be silly, huh? Just mommy. You’re gonna be happy when she turns the corner.” 

“Shoes,” you’re saying from the door, though Steve can’t see you, he can tell you’re smiling. “Shoes, Beth, then you can tell dad.” 

“Daddy, we’re home!” Avery shouts. 

“I can hear you, babe!” he shouts back, not unkindly. 

“Dad, I have something to tell you!” Beth shouts. 

Steve hoists himself up into a sitting position, two babies in his arms, knowing you’ll know he’s laid down all day from the mess of his hair alone but not trying to hide it. You can do whatever you want on your vacation days, you’d teased. Just make sure you feed the kids.

“Hi,” you say, appearing in the doorway, two balls of energy at your legs that bolt for Steve the second they see him. 

“Girls, I don’t have long enough arms,” he says, trying to cuddle them all, even though it’s impossible. 

He finds himself suddenly relieved of the second youngest. Dove might love her father, but she adores her mother, and she hasn’t seen you all day —she slinks down out of his hold and through the mess of her sisters to grab at you, to which you gratefully receive her, pulling her up to station on your hip. “Hi, gorgeous,” Steve hears you say. Avery pushes him back, climbing into his lap with a happy sigh. “Miss me today? I missed you,” you ask sweetly. 

“What did you want to tell me, Beth?” Steve asks curiously, grinning as Avery makes herself comfortable on his thigh, her arm wrapping behind his neck. He’s happy to see everybody else so happy, even if it’s hectic. 

Beth beams up at him with her brightest smile in weeks. She’s been having such a hard time at school, Steve wondered if he could start homeschooling, coming home upset nearly every other day. It isn’t fair. His relief that she’s had a good day is palpable. 

“Dad, there’s a new girl! Her name is Francesca and she’s got the same birthday as me and guess what!” 

“What?” he asks. 

“She said she likes being weird!” Beth’s eyes glow shiny with joy. “Cos Hilly called me weird, and she said she likes being weird. She said we can be best friends.” Beth hits his knee in her excitement. “She liked me, dad.” 

“Why wouldn’t she like you?” he asks, wondering how old he’ll have to be before he stops tearing up at Beth’s good heart. He blinks quickly to dispel any tears before they can gather. “Her name is Francesca? When did she move? Do you think she wants to come for dinner?” 

Your laugh is a snort. “Steve.” 

“What? Friends come for dinner. Best friends! Did you speak to her mom?” he asks you. 

“I didn’t see her.” 

“Don’t worry, Beth, I’ll speak to her in the morning. We’ll see if they want to come for dinner or go swimming or something.” 

Beth’s smile gets wider, “Really?” 

“Yeah, really!” He gives Avery a little shake. “Did you meet Francesca?” 

Avery nods. “She’s pale and she has big hair. Curly hair, too.” Her voice is a tad scratched, perhaps from the cold out. 

Steve lets his weight fall into the arm, cautious not to squish your baby, a grin on his face to rival Beth’s. She gets the memo and climbs up, claiming that last bit of space under the baby to hug his stomach. He tries to wrap them all up, gurgly Wren, exuberant Beth, and poor cold Avery. “You coming?” he asks you. 

There’s dinner to make. You ignore it, crossing the mess of the living room to flop down on the couch next to them all. Steve lifts his face in that way you always recognise, and is pleased as punch when you peck him quickly. 

You don’t realise how Steve thinks of you, he’d say. Don’t realise he wants another kiss, then another, that you’re on his mind when you aren’t there, and dominate it when you are. He loves his babies, but he loves you too. He wants another kiss. 

“Steve,” you scold lightly, surprised as he presses two kisses to the corner of your mouth. 

“Sorry. Beth, tell me more about Francesca. What did she say exactly?” 

Beth takes a deep breath.