#I wrote it while watching the episode so my every thoughts are in there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sundrop-writes · 9 months

Text

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

1K notes · View notes

hollybell51 · 2 years

Text

Don't bet on it

Navigation

Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?”

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful.

“(Y/N)?”

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine.

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?”

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?”

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added.

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.”

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.”

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression.

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly.

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once.

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink.

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily.

You smiled. “Lemonade.”

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently.

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter.

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly.

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.”

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left.

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them?

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.”

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you.

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing.

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing.

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows.

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him.

“It is.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.”

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.”

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright”

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking.

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you.

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.”

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?”

“No, we’ve got two singles.”

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.”

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.”

“I know, but–”

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

“What’s that supposed to–”

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.”

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed.

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.”

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant.

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched.

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault.

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab.

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.”

“Should I keep going?”

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad.

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead.

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.”

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you.

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?”

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).”

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to.

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his.

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade.

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound.

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright.

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it.

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.”

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses.

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing.

He looked up, frowning. “What?”

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.”

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside.

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters.

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused.

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips.

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering.

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.”

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…”

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed.

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.”

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away.

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?”

He nodded.

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he murmured.

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him?

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him.

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment.

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.”

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?”

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked.

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.”

He stared. “Do you want to?”

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath…

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?”

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.”

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you.

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life.

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?”

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that.

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful.

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake.

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.”

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning.

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before.

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to.

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that.

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out.

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…”

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled.

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.”

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes.

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright?”

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip.

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat.

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?”

You smiled. “Magic word?”

“Please,” he practically growled.

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute.

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.”

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure.

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade.

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely.

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.”

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless.

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.”

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright.

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face.

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting.

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?”

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?”

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.”

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.”

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning.

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body.

“Mhm.”

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.”

“I want you to feel–”

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?”

“But I’m–”

“Cas.”

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you.

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.”

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy.

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit.

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked.

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, Cas, just like that.”

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.”

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly.

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?”

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing.

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said.

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine.

Cas froze immediately.

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.”

“Is this not–”

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs.

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small.

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face.

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.”

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.”

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged.

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable.

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to squash you.”

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.”

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?”

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out.

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.”

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed.

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours.

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?”

He swallowed, his eyes dark.

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.”

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?”

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time.

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?”

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name.

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that.

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs.

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!”

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra.

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm.

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.”

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.”

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be.

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch.

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed.

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?”

After a moment, he nodded.

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again.

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.”

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?”

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty.

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.”

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.”

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him.

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much.

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

“Hello.”

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).”

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.”

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully.

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…”

He waited, watching you stumble over your words.

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,�� you finished lamely.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen.

“What do you want?” you growled.

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?”

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.”

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?”

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked.

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden.

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt.

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.”

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.”

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question.

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier.

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point.

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!”

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth.

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing.

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.”

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam?

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck.

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.”

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything.

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.”

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.”

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.”

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared.

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.”

“No? Who else?”

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now.

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.”

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all.

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas.

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.”

“No, I mean–”

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.”

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?”

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug.

Cas frowned. “Told him what?”

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!”

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.”

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?”

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas.

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.”

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.”

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?”

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.”

“Mhm, back at Stanford–”

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.”

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.”

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly.

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back.

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.”

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

4K notes · View notes

giannan04 · 17 days

Note

Can you please do a part two to the Jungwon one shot you wrote!🩷

Ask and you shall receive! A few people asked me to make a part two to my Jungwon X F! Reader one shot (https://www.tumblr.com/giannan04/760529750415589376/i-neeeed-panty-fucking-with-jungwon-ill-love) and I was thinking of writing a part two, I just didn’t know how much people would like the first part! I’m so thankful for everyone who supports my writing!🫶🏻

⬇️Part one is listed here ⬇️

Pairing: Best-friend’s brother Jungwon x F! Reader

Genre:Slight bad boy x good girl trope, smut. Best-friends brother

Warnings: SMUT! Cursing (F word is thrown around a lot), God’s name said in vain like twice (I’m a Christian 😭) choking, p in v, cream-pie!, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP Y’ALL), oral sex (f! Receiving), choking, that’s about all I can think of.

MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT!🔞

You were always the perky cheerleader, dedicated to your academics and looking forward to college—just like your best friend, Niki. Everyone thought you two would end up together, especially since you were the head cheerleader and he was the quarterback of the football team. Jungwon, Niki's older brother, never let you forget that. He teased you constantly for being a “goody-goody”, for being just like Niki. But Jungwon was different. He was the bad boy who didn’t care about school, dropped out early because he was next in line to inherit their parents' pharmaceutical company (it would’ve been Niki, but he wanted to be a doctor), and spent his time smoking, drinking & partying, and bringing a string of different girls home every week—-much to the annoyance of Niki and his parents. Deep down, you always knew Jungwon wasn’t good for you, but something about him drew you in, even if you couldn’t stand his teasing, low-key flirting.

——-

It had been hours since Jungwon fucked you (and your panties), leaving you breathless and wanting more. The heat of his touch still lingered on your skin, making it hard to focus on anything else. You couldn’t stop thinking about the text he had sent when you finished earlier, the one that made your heart race: ‘See you in my room later. I’ll make sure you cum this time ;)’

You were now in the living room, curled up next to Niki, trying to concentrate on the latest season of ‘Attack on Titan’ but your mind kept drifting back to Jungwon. The way he had touched you, the way he spoke to and took control of your body with such ease—it was all too distracting. Niki, blissfully unaware, sat beside you with his eyes glued to the screen, excited to binge-watch your favorite anime. Every time you even thought about slipping away to Jungwon’s room, Niki would either start the next episode or ask, “Where are you going?” and “Why do you keep getting up?” trapping you in place.

Your phone buzzed again. You glanced down to see a picture of Jungwon’s hand gripping his hard-on. His dick was pressed against his boxer-briefs, begging to be freed. You squirmed on the couch, desperate to get up and leave the living room, but every time you did that, Niki would play the next episode. ‘I’m waiting for you’, the text read. Heat rushed through your body and your stomach fluttered, your body itching to get up and leave, but Niki kept chattering about the show, keeping you in the conversation. You could barely focus. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to be in Jungwon’s room.

Another text came in not long after. ‘Wtf are you doing?’ Jungwon's frustration was obvious, and you quickly typed back: ‘I’m trying to get away from Niki, but it’s hard!’

Minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, feeling like house until finally, Niki groaned, clutching his stomach. “Shit, I shouldn’t have ate so many snacks” he groaned, wincing. He stood up and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m gonna be in there for a while,” he added dramatically, and you watched as he dashed down the hallway.

This was your chance.

Without a second thought, you rushed to Jungwon’s room. The moment you slipped inside, you found him undressed, his lean frame illuminated by the dim light. He turned to you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Took you long enough,” he drawled, eyes raking over your body. “Strip.” He ran his tongue over his lips in anticipation.

You hesitated, suddenly shy, your hands trembling slightly as you stood by the door. ‘Why am I so nervous?’ you thought. ‘It’s not like we haven’t done this earlier… but still…’ Your mind raced. ‘What if he doesn’t like what he sees?’ You couldn’t shake the insecurity that crept in as you stood there, feeling his eyes on you. You couldn’t believe that you acted all impatient earlier just to be nervous in front of him.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing your hesitation. “What’s the holdup? I already fucked you earlier,” he said, his voice low and teasing, as he smirked at you.

“It’s different this time,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your pajama shirt. “Before, it was quick… and I still had my cheer uniform on. Now it’s…”

Jungwon rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, clearly unimpressed by your nerves. “It’s not a big deal. Get undressed.” He palmed his erection with impatience.

Your fingers fumbled with the waistband of your pants before you finally managed to strip. You stood before him, feeling exposed and vulnerable, your arms crossed over your stomach and chest. ‘Is he really going to like my body?’ The thought kept looping in your mind, but you pushed it aside, trying to focus on the moment. Jungwon’s gaze softened just slightly as he approached you, his eyes trailing up and down your body. He reached out, his fingertips tracing the curve of your waist. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

“Thanks,” you replied shyly, avoiding his intense gaze.

Jungwon didn’t waste any more time. He picked you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed; you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. He laid you down gently, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. Yet, as his hands roamed your body, he paused, sensing your hesitation. He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours. “What’s wrong now?” he asked, his tone sharp with impatience. “I already told you, you look good.”

You bit your lip, trying to find the right words. “I told you… this is different.”

Jungwon let out an annoyed sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Please stop overthinking it,” he muttered. “Just let me get to work. I wanna make you feel good.” You blushed. You wanted Jungwon. Badly. You knew he was right, you were doing too much overthinking about everything. “Okay.” Jungwon smirked at your response. He lowered back down and began kissing your stomach.

He trailed kisses down your stomach, his lips brushing against your skin as he moved lower. When he reached your core, he didn’t hesitate. He immediately flattened his tongue against your wet pussy lips. Jungwon’s tongue began to explore you, teasing and tasting, making your body writhe with pleasure. His touch was both demanding and tender as he focused on your clit, swirling his tongue and applying pressure. The sensation was almost too much, and you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets. “Oh my fucking God Jungwon. It feels so good.” You moaned louder, your fingers twisting in Jungwon’s hair as you pushed his face deeper inside you.

"Good girl," Jungwon murmured against you, his voice vibrating through your body. "You love this, don't you?" He picked his lips, using them to suck your clit gently.

The pleasure built quickly, and despite your exhaustion from earlier, your body responded eagerly. “Jungwon…I-I’m so close.” Jungwon’s skillful movements drove you to the edge, as he moved his tongue faster, and you cried out as you came, your body trembling under his experienced touch.

Once he was satisfied with your reaction, Jungwon shifted positions, his hands gripping your hips as he entered you from behind in a rough, commanding thrust, the sounds of your wet cunt filling the air. His dick plus the feeling of leftover cum from your last orgasm filled you with so much pleasure. The raw intensity of his movements made you gasp, each thrust hitting deep, relentless and powerful. "You’re so fucking tight," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Already came, and you’re still so perfect for me." Hearing him praise you while he fucked you so good left you craving for more. “Oh my god.”

His pace was unforgiving, his hips pounding into you with each stroke. You could feel his balls slapping against your pussy from behind. “I’m going to make sure you feel every inch," he groaned, pushing you further, your body arching and grinding back against him. His movements were punishing, but the pleasure was undeniable, making you cry out with each forceful thrust. “Yes, Won, you fuck me so good!”

Jungwon’s grip tightened on your hips as he felt his own release approaching. "I’m gonna fill you the fuck up," he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic and frantic. With a final, deep thrust, he came inside you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. The warmth of his cum filled you, and he stayed buried inside, panting heavily. The warm cum and his thick cock felt so good inside you, you didn’t even want him to move.

Afterward, Jungwon carefully pulled out, his eyes still intense as he grabbed a warm cloth, which he already had waiting on his dresser. He began to clean you up and you felt the care in his touch. "You did so well," he said, his voice a mix of praise and control. "Such a good girl, taking everything I gave you." You’re murmured softly, that was all you could do. You were laying there spent, made a mess by Jungwon.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as he continued to clean you. "Look at you, all wrecked and perfect," he whispered softly, a teasing edge still present in his voice. "Can’t even move after all that."

He helped you into his arms, covering you with a blanket and pulling you close. His touch was soothing as he rubbed your back, but there was still that familiar sharpness in his tone. "Don’t get too comfortable," he warned with a smirk. "Next time, I won’t be so easy on you."

He pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, his hands lingering on your body in a caring way despite his earlier harshness. "You did great," he whispered, his voice softening. "You’re amazing." You really did like Jungwon. Besides how good he made you feel sexually, you could feel how much he cared for you. And he made you feel good about yourself. But you couldn’t help but wonder if Jungwon saw more in you than just sex.

As you lay there, deep in thought, Jungwon noticed the distant look in your eyes. "What’s on your mind?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You hesitated, feeling a blush creep across your cheeks. "I was just wondering… what does this mean for us? Are we… official, or am I just… your fuck buddy?" You bit your lip nervously and played with your fingers, unable to meet his gaze.

Jungwon rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulled you closer. "What do you think? You’re my girl," he said confidently, leaning in to kiss you deeply. Before you could respond, he continued, "I’ve always wanted you. It drove me crazy that your little “good-girl” self was too occupied with school and your friendship with Niki to see that."

He looked into your eyes, waiting for your response. "Do you feel the same, despite what you’ve heard about me? I know Niki told you I’m not good enough for you”

You nodded, kissing him back with equal intensity, holding him close. "I do," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

Just then, Niki barged into the room. "I knew you guys were fucking!” he exclaimed, giving you both a stern look. "Seriously? I couldn’t even take a shit in peace without hearing everything! And you’re supposed to be my company, Y/N!”

The tension in the air was thick as Niki stared at you, in the same bed as his older brother. You laughed awkwardly, attempting to break the tension. “Um, I’ll be right back down, Niki.”

Niki huffed, rolling his eyes. “So, are you guys like “a thing” now?”

Jungwon smirked mischievously at his younger brother. “Damn right.” He leaned down and kissed you, not caring that Niki was watching. Niki wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Gross”, he said, turning towards the door.

Before he left the room, he looked over his shoulder, directly at Jungwon. “Just make sure you treat her right. I don’t play about Y/n.”

Jungwon held you even tighter, his face nuzzled in your neck. “No shit. I’ll treat her like a princess.”

You couldn’t stop the cheesy smile that tugged at your lips. You knew Niki wanted the best for you, but you had no doubt in your mind that Jungwon was good for you.

——

A/N: Y’all, Jungwon is a DOM and I will die on this hill!😭🫶🏻

137 notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 9 months

Note

Hey. Could you please do a Winchester!sister reader fic like the mystery spot episode where Dean dies over and over but can you have the reader be the one who dies over and over again while the boys watch

Groundhog Day

Note: Once again apologising for my lateness but here we are! I actually also wrote this yesterday but I thought it was only fitting to release this on a Tuesday.

warnings: death *and lots of it, It's mystery spot*, grief kinda, time loops, swearing.

Word count: 3.5k

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother who was surprisingly already up and raring to go, having made his bed which he was now perching on as he laced together his boots. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep.

“Rise and shine, Sammy.”

“Dude.” Sam blinked, swiping his hair from his eyes. “Asia?”

“Come on. You love this song and you know it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, and if i hear it again, I’m going to kill myself.”

“Be quiet.” You murmured from behind the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling over. You knew it wasn’t going to happen but you were trying to cling onto the idea of getting more than 4 hours of sleep for once.

Dean took a break from trying his shoes to reach over and turn the dial on the radio. The song blasted louder from the speakers. He raised his voice with a grin “What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Sam let out a light chuckle, still bleary with sleep as you sighed and sat up. Dean was still grinning at you before he began to mouth along to the words of the song. You shook your head at him before hauling yourself up and making your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Dean had decided that he was going to be annoying today. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to go on the hunt and he was trying to delay it or something or if it was simply because he was being Dean. You decided on the latter because his keenness to be up and ready this morning was unusual. It started with the gurgling when he was brushing his teeth. Then, just as the three of you were about to leave, despite being up before either of you he had forgotten his pistol leaving you and your other brother standing impatiently by the door while he rooted around the motel room for it. He was irritating in the car too and you were itching to jump out of the Impala, praying for the day to end.

The diner was hardly busy when Dean pulled into the driveway. There were only a few cars belonging to passers by occupying the spaces. After securing your pistol in the pocket of your jacket the three of you headed inside. You decided to stick close to Sam; you had an odd feeling about this hunt and weren’t entirely sure what it was but something just wasn’t sitting right with you. Your brothers entered one of the booths and you slid down beside Dean who let out a content sigh as he scanned the menu.

“Hey, tuesday. Pig in a poke.” he read, gesturing to the sign.

“Do you even know what that is?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

The eldest brother opened his mouth to answer only to fall short of his words. Sam gave him a smug look and then pair fell into some sort of childish bickering that you weren’t really paying attention to. You were too busy scanning every inch of the room still unable to shake that uneasy feeling from your mind. Something just wasn’t right. Everything seems so…perfect. It made your skin crawl and you bit your lip.

“Hey.” Sam nudged you under the table with his knee, he had noted the way that you had gone silent and that you were fiddling with your hands restlessly. He knew almost straight away that something was up. You twisted to face him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. yeah.” You muttered. “Sorry.”

You nearly let out a sigh of relief when the waitress came over and distracted your brother's attention away from you. You hated the way that they stared when they were concerned about you. The three of you rattled off your orders before Dean leaned back in the chair, stretching his arm back behind you to lounge about as you all discussed the plan, only interrupted once by the waitress bringing your food and accidentally spilling a bottle of hot sauce which tumbled to the floor and smashed into tiny pieces.

The rest of the day passed by quickly after that.

You did not like the look of the so-called ‘mystery spot’. It was all overly commercialised, filled to the brim with strange and amusing objects that stuck out at odd angles or were glued to the ceiling. The darkness of the room mixed with the obscurity of the place made it come across as quite disorientating. You supposed that was the point. Your strange feeling from this morning was still lingering. You and Dean moved around with flashlights as Sam waved around the EMF. But it was silent.

“Find anything?” You asked.

Sam shook his head.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” Dean said rather loudly. He was still set on the idea that this hunt was a complete waste of time and had decided to make it everyone else's problem.

“Uh… yeah.” Sam shrugged until you gave him a look and he dropped his shoulders. “No.”

It wasn’t long after you set off to explore again that Dean’s gun was being cocked. Somehow someone had managed to catch you off guard, causing the three of you to whip around alarmed when his shaky voice boomed through the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He demanded. The man was small and scrawny and would normally be no match against Winchesters, but he was wielding a gun that he didn’t seem to know how to use and his unstable finger was hovering dangerously close to the trigger.

“Woah. We can explain.” Dean started, raising his gun in surrender and gesturing for the two of you to follow suit.

The man moved his weapon uncertainly. “You robbing me?”

“No.” You told him. “Nobody’s robbing you, calm down.”

Dean began to lower his gun, but this only wound the man up more.

“Don’t move!” He demanded. “Don’t!”

“I’m just putting the gun down.” Dean tried to reassure him, but the man was having none of it.

He raised his gun, but before he fired he spotted you moving out of the corner of his eye.

Sam, as worrying of a brother as ever, gestured with a tilt of his head for you to move toward him. He knew that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but it made him feel ten times better to know that you were hidden behind his lumbering frame, especially given the recent circumstances that had resulted in so much loss between the three of you. Your movement however, combined with Dean’s haste to put down his gun startled the man and with a fast flick of his arm he had pulled the trigger.

No one had any time to think before your pained scream filled the room. It was quick and short as the bullet lodged itself within your chest and you collapsed to the ground, writhing with an agony so intense that it made white spots dance in your vision like little stars.

“Y/N!” Sam cried out, moving quickly to bridge the short distance to your side where you lay in pain on the cold ground. Sam slid an arm around your back as your other brother dropped to his knees next to you, hovering his hand over your chest where blood had already begun to pool through and seep into your shirt. He was frozen with terror unsure what to do at the sight of your pained expression or the way that your hands clutched feebly at the hem of Sammy’s jacket.

“Call 911.” Sam demanded, turning to face the man who stood there white as a sheet.

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“Now!” Dean yelled.

You whimpered at the yelling. It cuts through your already pounding head adding to the concoction of your agony. You couldn’t see straight, couldn’t hear properly, couldn’t feel anything besides the burning fire in your chest that spread through your lungs like a disease. Your head lolled back against Sam’s arm as you began to taste metallic copper in your mouth, slowly drowning on your own blood that had filled your lungs.

“No. No” Sam said as you writhed in his arms, glancing up bleary eyed at him. Dean pressed down firmly on the wound, and it hurt more than anything but you couldn’t bring yourself to even whine at the contact.

“Come on sweetheart.” Dean pleaded. “Not like this.”

You could see his lips moving but it sounded like he was underwater as your body began to grow numb and your vision slowly faded. You tried to blink away the spots that consumed your vision, but it was no use and your eyes ended up fluttering shut just as your ragged breaths slowed before stopping altogether until you lay morbid limp in your big brother's arms.

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother. He had been here before. He realised suddenly, but this time his older brother was not lacing his boots. Instead he was stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the space beside Sam. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep. Sam stared at you, startled. He could have sworn that just a moment ago you were-

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean said, with much less enthusiasm as he had before. His little brother furrowed his brows.

“Dean…?”

“I know. Is it just me or are you getting a serious sense of deja-vu?”

He nodded in agreement.

The Winchesters shared a look. Man, something strange was happening and whatever it was, you clearly weren’t feeling the same thing they were.

The diner was exactly the same as it had been the last time the two brothers were here. You were still looking around with the same uncertainty as you were before and you even ordered the same thing as you did before and so did Dean. Tuesday’s special. Pig in a poke.

“It’s tuesday?” He said uncertainly to himself.

You stared at him blankly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “Yeah.”

Sam eyed you strangely and you raised a brow.

“You okay?”

“Peachy.” He replied, leaning across the table. “Are you?”

Narrowing your eyes at the pair of boys you asked. “Okay. What’s going on with you two?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“You don’t…you don’t remember any of this?” Sam asked you

“Remember what?”

“This. Today. Like it’s happened before.” Dean.

“You mean like Deja Vu?” You frowned.

“No like it’s really happened before.” Sam stressed. “If it feels like we’re living yesterday all over again.”

“Deja Vu.”

“No. Forget about that. Its-

The conversation was once again cut off by the waitress who was delivering the food. And once again she sent the hot sauce toppling. But this time, Sam caught it before it could hit the ground.

You gave him a charismatic grin. “Nice reflexes.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that.

Your brothers were trying to explain the situation to you, while theorising themselves. It was safe to say that at first you were completely lost, but were halfway to believing them when it happened.

The car came from nowhere, speeding around the corner. It collided harshly with your unsuspecting body sending you skidding across the asphalt. By the time your brothers had reached you, a trail of blood trickled down your face from the wounds that were opened as your skin ran across the floor. Dean nearly choked on the sight of your pained and bloodied face as he reached you but you were dead before he had even lifted you into his arms.

And then, there it was again. That wretched song, screaming from the radio.

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room and muttered one single phrase.

“Son of a bitch.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that. In fact, it never seemed to end.

Sam was getting angry now. No. That's not really the right word to describe it. He was frustrated. Tired. Scared. Dean was angry. And growing impatient. But both of them could not bear to live another tuesday. They couldn’t bear to see you fine one second and then dying the next. They had lived through at least a hundred tuesdays, had scanned every inch of the diner, the town, the mystery spot, they had followed the people from the diner and had even tried to keep you in the motel room but no matter how hard they tried they were forced to watch you die again.

The worst part was that you were clueless. Sam and Dean had to re-explain the ordeal to you everytime they woke up to that stupid song again, leaving you back at square one. They had lived through the day so many times that it had gotten to the point where they could both predict your sentences word for word and while it freaked you out, their patience was wearing thin.

Until finally, something changed. Dean had asked the woman he kept bumping into to see her flyer. They finally had a lead. So, the next time Tuesday morning rolled around, they felt hopeful as they filed off the information to you.

“When’d you get time to do all that research?” you asked through a mouthful of food.

Dean did not have the energy to answer, so he just stood, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time here.”

That was when Sam spotted it. The sticky, pink syrup sat in the dispenser next to the half eaten pancake. He frowned, stopping suddenly. When you noticed his absence you turned and asked him what was wrong.

Sam watched the man leave through the slats in the blinds. “That guy has maple syrup for the last 100 tuesdays, now all of a sudden he’s having strawberry?

“It’s a free country, Sammy. A man can’t choose his own syrup now? What have we become?”

“Not in this diner.” Sam shook his head. “Not today.”

“Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. “ Dean told you. “Except us.”

The two brothers nearly lost their shit when they woke up again, but by the time they had suffered through the morning routine and had reached the diner they had come up with a plan.

There were no conversations during breakfast. The pair left you to ponder over your own thoughts after mentioning the idea of a time loop. Any of your questions went unanswered as they stared down the man, jumping into action when he rose, pushing the stool out with an ear splitting squeal and making his way to the parking lot.

Dean gripped the man firmly, forcing him against the fence by the scruff of his neck and silencing his protests. “We know who you are. Or should I say what?”

You watched very confused from the side.

“Oh my god-” the man begged, wide eyed. “Please don’t kill me!”

“Uh, Boys-”

“It took us a hell of a long time, but we got it.” Sam seethed.

“What?!”

“It’s your M.O that gave you away.” He continued. “Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just deserts. Your kind loves that, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay! Just put the stake down!” He pleaded, side eyeing the weapon that Sam pressed to his neck. Sam refused to move.

“Sammy, maybe you should-”

“No!” He yelled at you. The tone of his voice was so unexpected for Sam that you recoiled. “There’s only one creature powerful enough to do what you’re doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops- In fact, you’d pretty much have to be a god.”

“You’d have to be a trickster.” Dean spat.

“Misters…” The man pleaded shakily with tears in his eyes “My name is Ed Coleman. My wife’s name is Amelia- I’ve got two kids! For crying out loud I sell ad space!”

“Don’t lie to me! I know what you are!” Sam shouted into his face.

“We’ve killed one of your kind before.”

There was a heavy paused before the grey hair and wrinkles on the man before you morphed into the all familiar face of the trickster you and your brothers had run into not too long ago.

He smirked and your brothers’ faces dropped. “Actually, you didn’t.”

“Why are you doing this? Why her!?” Sam pressed, digging the stake into his neck.

“You’re kidding?” The trickster replied “You all tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn’t I do this? Why not make you three suffer.”

“So this is funny to you? Killing her over and over again?” Dean gritted his teeth.

“One- yes, it is fun. And two -this is so not about killing Y/N. This joke is on you two. I mean… come on. How great has it been to watch you to see her being torn apart again and again. Watching your sister die everyday. Forever.”

“You son of a bitch.”

The trickster smiled. “How long will it take you to realise you can’t save your sister, no matter what.”

“Oh yeah? We kill you, this ends now.” Sam growled.

“Woah. Okay, look. I was just playing around. You can’t take a joke, fine. You’re out of it. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and it’ll be wednesday. I swear.”

“You're lying. “

He shrugged. “If I am, you know where to find me.”

“But you better promise me, I’ll be back in time-”

Sam couldn’t contain the gasp that fell from his lips. “It’s wednesday!”

“Yeah…?” You said from across the room where you were rummaging though your bag. “Which usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that crap off, would you?” you asked him.

“No. Leave it on.” Dean interjected. He agreed with Sam. If he heard Asia one more time he was going to kill himself. “Isn’t that the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard?”

“...No. Jesus, how many Tuesdays did you guys have?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Dean sighed. “Wait..what do you remember.”

“I remember you two being pretty whacked out yesterday. And then i remember running into the trickster. S’bout it really.”

“Right. Whatever. Lets get out of here.” Sam said as he pulled on a shirt.

“What? No breakfast?” You asked, slightly upset that you were going to miss out on the diner food you had quite enjoyed yesterday.

“No breakfast.”

Sam and Dean were still inside when they heard it. The unmistakable pop of a gun being fired. You were outside loading the last of your things into Baby and-

Sam's heart sank.

“Y/N!” He cried, dropping what he was doing and racing down the stairs towards you.

The offender fled the moment the gunshot had sounded and your two brothers could see him rounding the corner, but their concern was on you, sprawled out across the floor in a pool of your own blood.

They shook you, crying out your name but you didn’t move. Your heart had stopped beating.

“No. This isn’t supposed to happen today.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight, only to nearly cry when he opened them again and you were still lying lifelessly in his brothers clutch. “We’re supposed to wake up.”

And then, he began to cry.

Part 2 may be coming…I’ll add it to my to do list

415 notes · View notes

lovelytsunoda · 4 months

Text

indecent exposure // liam lawson

summary: some men should not be allowed to buy gag shirts when they go to vegas. liam lawson is not one of them. or, the liam face-sitting fic i've been ruminating on for months and never wrote.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT!!! porn with very minimal plot if i do say so myself. lots of double entendres for common police charges (disorderly conduct, indecent exposure etc.), liam refers to himself as 'agent lawson' and makes us all cringe with laughter. the actual face-sitting portion of the fic is really only a few paragraphs at the end lmao the foreplay was too fun with all the cop jokes-

author's note: somebody should take both my library card and every british detective show in existence away from me because this is what happens when i watch too many episodes of anything with a hot detective in it. never mind the fact that i binged lauren layne's new yorks finest series last year when i was snowed in and my classes were cancelled for almost a week

there was nothing that y/n loved more than coming home from a long day at work and taking her dress pants off. and her high heels, and her bra. typically this would be followed by a pint of ben and jerrys and a few episodes of 'grace and frankie'. sometimes it would be followed by a feel good eighties movie, or by her boyfriend ordering takeout and ravishing her while they waited for it to arrive.

all of these were good options, as far as y/n was concerned.

"hey babe!" liam shouted, darting across the hall from the small gym space they'd set up, to the master bedroom. "look what i found in the closet...jesus. you look gorgeous." he stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on his goddess of a girlfriend as she stood in front of the gilded mirror next to the walk-in closet.

"you saw be before i left for work." she laughed, taking out the small diamond studs in her ears. they were a gift from liam for their anniversary. "all i've done is take off my slacks and bra, and undo my shirt a little bit."

but it wasn't the lack of pants that was getting liam all flustered, nor was it the way the collar of her silk work shirt dipped down just a little too far, the hem not quite long enough to cover the area where thigh met ass.

no, it was the black prada glasses that delicately framed her eyes. the eyes that had so captivated liam from the moment they met.

"if you ever decide to get contacts, i'm leaving you. seriously."

he wasn't serious in the slightest.

"the way you look in those glasses should be a crime. you're gorgeous, babe."

facing him, she laughed, hands on her hips. "i thought you threw that shirt out!"

she groaned internally, looking at the tight-fitting black cotton shirt that liam was wearing, and the cracking white vinyl lettering over his heart. fbi. a gag gift he had bought in vegas. it was too tight despite it's age, hugging each and every one of liam's muscles far too tight, and looking deceptively erotic when paired with his dark blue jeans.

"so did i! isn't it great?" he grinned like an idiot, spinning in a little circle to show off the writing on the back.

female body inspector.

who the fuck came up with these things? on any random guy in the street, she would have gagged at the vulgar implications of the words. on her boyfriend? she only rolled her eyes.

"there's a reason it went missing in the move, babe."

liam shook his head, ignoring her words. "ma'am, i'm special agent lawson from the federal bureau of investigations. i've received a complaint about disorderly conduct on the premises. and now that i'm here i might have to upgrade that charge to indecent exposure, little lady."

"you're such a fucking idiot." she giggled, looping her arms around her boyfriend's neck before kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more." he rasped in between kisses, his hands travelling underneath the hem of her shirt. "what do you say the two of us make a case for disturbing the peace?"

"if you make one more cop-related come on, i'm walking out that front door and never coming back."

liam flashed a shit-eating grin, raking his bleached blonde hair out of his face. "so does that mean you won't consent to a frisk search?"

"i will humor you this one time." she laughed, taking a step back. "take it away, agent. but you do realize that the fbi don't get to make disorderly conduct calls? that's a beat cop's job."

"i seem to recall that you have a right to remain silent?"

she winked, undoing another button on her shirt, the fabric falling away just enough to give liam a glimpse of the soft flesh of her breasts. "and i don't recall being read my rights."

"hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, you beautiful smartass." liam laughed, waiting for her to turn slightly before playfully swatting at her backside. "then i can read them to you."

the wall was cold against her palms as she got into position, listening half-heartedly as liam attempted to remember the american miranda rights. he got about as far as 'you have the right to remain silent' and 'you have the right to an attorney' before he gave up.

"you know what, this isn't that serious. fuck the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain sexy as fuck. how about that." she could hear the playful annoyance in his voice, and couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face.

there was the liam she knew and loved. not one to mince words, even in the bedroom.

his smooth hands were a welcome presence on her body, travelling up her legs, over her hips and up the sides of her torso. torturously slow, his warm hands dipped underneath her shirt, taking her breasts in his hands, her peaked nipples between his fingers.

heat rose to her skin, adding a rosy sheen in the halflight. she sighed under his touch, her head dropping back to rest on liam's shoulder. liam smiled fondly, one of his hands reaching for hers, the other dropping to cradle her waist.

"you're beautiful." he hummed, kissing her neck gently. "i hope you know that."

this was a side of liam that only she ever got to see. on the outside, he gave off frat boy energy: the hair, the way he carried himself. the way he spoke. but just under the surface, was a man who was wrapped around his girlfriend's finger. one who loved shamelessly, and with his whole heart.

pulling away from the wall, the turned in his hold to face him, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply.

"if you can get that shirt off without tearing a stitch, you can keep it."

liam beamed, breaking from the embrace to scramble for the hem of the worn t-shirt. he had almost gotten it over his head when he heard the first few stitches begin to pop, fabric getting stuck by his shoulders.

"fuck!"

"need some help with that?"

"i think i'm good!"

somehow they ended up on the bed, both half dressed and pent up. she was soaked through her thong, despite her earlier attitude towards the t-shirt and further proving the point that her lover looked good in just about anything (or nothing, for that matter). she was needy, every nerve in her body reacting to the way liam's tongue probed her mouth, the way his hands touched her body. the way he moaned when she pressed up against the bulge in his jeans.

"babe," he mumbled in between kisses. "do you trust me?"

she cocked an eyebrow, brushing his bangs out of his face before looking down at him "should i be worried?"

"do you trust me, yes or no?"

"of course, li. of course i trust you."

liam nodded. "good. so sit on my face."

she paused, almost as if her brain was sending up error messages. she knew this day would come. liam lawson would eat pussy any which way. truthfully, she was shocked this day hadn’t come sooner.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. of course she wanted to.

“babe, how will you be able to breathe? I’ll suffocate you.” she protested, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“sweetheart, it’s okay. you won’t hurt me. and if-god forbid-I do suffocate, trust me on this, I wouldn’t want to go out any other way than with your thighs on either side of my head.”

and with that, liam took her hands in his, and guided her towards where he needed her most. she looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"i love you." she whispered, moving her hands to the headboard and beginning to lower herself down to meet her lovers tongue.

she inhaled sharply as she made contact, liam's plump lips mouthing at her pussy, her grip tightening on the wooden headboard.

"i've got you, princess." liam's voice was muffled, but his words were reassuring as he ran a hand up and down her thigh. "just ride my face, darlin'. use my tongue to get yourself off."

feeling bolder than she was when she first sat down, she began to grind on liam's face, his nose bumping against her swollen clit with each movement. every bit of friction, every swipe of liam's tongue drove her wild, was like setting fire to her nerve endings.

"oh sweet jesus, god." she whined, fighting the urge to close her thighs together around liam's head, focussing on the way his hands gripped her thighs in a bruising way. she looked down at his face and moaned again, seeing the pleasure mapped out on her boyfriend's features.

"oh, i'm in heaven." he moaned, pulling her down further to plunge his tongue inside of her, rapidly flicking it inside and out.

her eyes rolled back as her hips bucked, grinding against the tip of his nose as one hand came down to clutch at his hair. tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes as she cried out his name.

"liam- right there, oh my god, keep doing that." she whined, trying to move her hips faster. liam's face was soaked, the entire bottom half coated in her juices. there was so much of it, running down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into the pillowcase behind him.

she felt so good she could barely see, screwing her eyes shut. her pants and whines became closer together and more high pitched, the movement of her hips more frantic as she chased that feeling, that high.

"are you going to cum for me, baby?" liam asked, pulling his face away from her. she continued to drip onto his face, and he opened his mouth wide, catching some of her slick on his tongue. "come on my face. please, i want to be drowning in it."

and how could she say no to that?

she could barely keep her shoulders straight as she resumed her motions, fingers gripping liam's hair to keep herself steady. his hands grasped desperately at the flesh of her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging as one of her own hands came up to grasp at one of her tits, teasing the peaked nipple between her fingers.

"oh god, liam, i think i'm coming!"

"i've got you, i've got you. just breathe-"

his last word was cut off with a moan as she began to gush, coating his face in her release. his moans were muffled by the weight of her body, but they were no less loud as he set about licking her clean.

her legs felt like jello and her body like mush as liam tried to sit up, easing her body back so that she was sitting in his lap, wet core right over top of the massive bulge in his jeans. liam was certain that if she moved at all while she was on top of him, he'd come in his jeans. totally spent, she slumped against him, resting her head on his chest.

he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead and she scrunched up her face. she looked adorable in her fogged-up glasses with her messy hair. and liam couldn't stop his heart from melting as she reached for the box of tissues in the nightstand and began to clean up his face.

"that was incredible." her voice was soft as she cleaned him up. "i had no idea you could do that."

"don't give me all the credit." liam laughed, playfully nipping at her fingers as she moved to wipe his mouth down. "you played a very large part in why i'm still hard right now."

she laughed, a big smile on her face as she looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly. with his large hands holding her in place, they kissed again. sweet, chaste and soft, with no intention of it leading anywhere else.

at least, not this early in the evening.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @userlando @diorleclerc

#liam lawson x reader #liam lawson smut #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 smut #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #Spotify

353 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 2 months

Text

tiny

[spencer reid]

summary: diana reid has her dad wrapped around her pinky

pairing: none

warnings/content: dad & daughter moments; minor character death (mentioned)

a/n: stay with this fluffy blurb with dad!spencer. I wrote this at 1am trying to sleep. sorry I've been MIA I've been really busy with uni :(

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

spencer is too absorbed in the doctor who's episode playing on tv to properly pay attention to his surroundings. but he does, either way, because the soft pitter-patter of small feet following to the living room in a rapid pace is engrained into his brain.

so when the small body of his five year old jumps on his stomach, causing him to let out a huff in mock surprise, he already knows the drill.

he knows all of diana's tells and quirks when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

“hi, tiny.”

the little girl squirms on top of him, pursing her lips in a pout that makes spencer wants to fit her in his pocket.

“'m not tiny, daddy.”

“okay.” his lips twitches as he attempts to fix her messy honey brown curls. it's foolish. she got his hair and that's a fact. “can't sleep? I just tucked you in.”

“it's been forty-five minutes and fourteen seconds, daddy.” she retorts, sitting up on his stomach to cross her arms to make her look invincible. “fourteen seconds when I leave my bed.”

“when you left your bed?” spencer corrects her english while adjusting her winnie the pooh pajamas because it's all crooked.

ever since she learned how to count and how to learn the time — spencer taught her the latter one time when they were waiting in the doctor's office and she just kept asking every time she saw a clock on the wall — she's been ready to tell him whenever he's late to pick her up from school or literally use it as an argument to prove he's wrong about something.

“are you not sleepy anymore?”

she gives him a tight-lipped smile he feels like looking in the mirror every time. “no.”

spencer bops her nose and pats his chest. she lays down with a giddy smile, curling up against his chest, half her body resting against the couch. spencer remembers when she was too tiny he was scared she would fall off if he as much as moved an inch.

his heart pinches at the thought that his little girl is growing up.

“daddy,” diana whispers, he knows a request is coming.

“mhm?”

“play that episode?”

spencer stretches his arm with difficulty to grab the remote. they may have watched the episode around twenty seven times, but she loves it and he can't say he's tired. if anything, it will help her to sleep again.

“can we light a candle for grandma tomorrow?”

spencer is rubbing her back soothingly and he can feel she's about to drift off when she asks the question. we light a candle for the ones who have passed, so we talk to them. it helps when we miss them. he told diana once when she was trying to grasp the fact that some people that used to be around her were no longe there. she doesn't fully get the concept of death yet, she's too young. but lighting a candle not only brings her comfort but provides it for spencer, too.

like an old friend once told him it would.

“do you want to do it now?” he asks, tone of voice bordering on a whisper to not disturb her.

diana usually holds two of his fingers when she's falling asleep. spencer read a study that toddlers often search for sensations familiar to them as babies. touching and skin-to-skin contact, for instance. these behaviours are a result of forming neural pathways and helping a child feel a sense of security.

she doesn't answer him, just holds his fingers with her tiny hands as her soft snores take over. he watches his daughter fall asleep with a soft smile on his lips, hands cradling her to his chest. at last, he kisses the crown of her head and turns his neck to watch the rest of the doctor who episode he already knows every line of.

diana doesn't wake up in the middle of the night again, she's fast asleep, drooling when he walks up to her bedroom before he goes to his.

he can't help but linger at the doorway, thinking about what he wants to say to his mom tomorrow when they light up the candle and if she would be proud of him today.

he hopes she is.

#criminal minds fanfiction #girl dad spencer #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #girldad!spencer reid #dad!spencer reid

115 notes · View notes

becauseimanicequeen · 1 month

Text

The Timelines in 4 Minutes

Since the Olympics are finally over, and I have three episodes of 4 Minutes to go on, I thought I would spend some time trying to figure out the timelines.

I'm someone who figures out what I want to say by writing it out, so this post will most likely be me "thinking out loud" and drawing conclusions as I go, and then, at the end, I'll have a clearer view of the timelines (hopefully).

(This is most likely going to be one long-ass post, so beware.)

Let's start with some initial notes before I dive into the fun stuff.

The contents of this post may be influenced by some of my theories (pre-premiere theories, episode 1, episode 2, episode 3), and I might come up with new ones as I write this post (they will be highlighted in purple so possible readers of this mammoth post can choose to ignore them if they want, lol), but my focus is primarily on the timelines themselves and, perhaps, on the passing of time throughout the episodes as well.

As I start this post, I believe there are 3 timelines (which are subject to change as I continue to write):

The present timeline, which is what starts off both the 1st and the 2nd episodes (these are events from the future from our current vantage point).

The 4-minute timeline, which is where Great changes things (I've previously called this the OOBE timeline, since I believe Great is having an out-of-body experience and is "reliving" his past).

Then there's a possible third timeline (I've previously thought it might've been the real past, which showed us events that actually happened in the past paralleled with the 4-minute timeline) but I'm most unsure about this one, so I'll just call it the 3rd timeline until my thoughts are more clear about it.

Now... Where the hell do I start?

Time

It might be a good idea to start with the clues that there are different timelines at play and then dive deeper into the episodes to figure out what's happening.

Besides the obvious clues that Great is sent back in time when he has his moments of the 4-minute phenomenon (4MP), there are other clues that different timelines are at play.

The first clue shows up in the Korn and Tonkla scene from the 1st episode and all the way through to the scene where Korn drops Great off at his place after their family dinner.

This is where I'll be crazy about the details (but I'm a hundred percent sure they matter, especially since this whole show is about time), but if we look at Korn's watch when he arrives at Tonkla's place, it says 7:15-ish pm.

Later, when Tonkla wants a second round, it says 8:55 pm.

Then they get interrupted because Korn's dad wants him home for dinner. They have their family dinner, and then, when Korn drops Great off at his condo after dinner, Korn's watch says 7:15-ish while the clock on Great's phone says 07:13.

(Great already has issues with time, which I believe is the effect of him having a cardiac arrest at 11:00 in the present, but the time anomaly in this particular sequence is different than Great seeing 11:00 and counting when he's alone.)

This whole sequence is meant to be the same day Great hit Manee with his car. All of them (even the dad and Great's mom) are wearing the same clothes they wore when introduced throughout that very same day. Yet, the times on the visible watches and clocks tell us something strange is going on.

(Could this just be me overanalyzing the watches and clocks? Sure. But the interesting thing is that the time is still consistent in the sequence with Korn and Tonkla. It would make sense that they talk, then fuck, and then lie there butt ass naked and cuddling for a total of 1 h 40 min. And, again, considering this show is about time, I trust that the creators have been meticulous about those details, even if it means changing the time on the watches and clocks for every new take if needed.)

Considering what I wrote above, I might start calling the 3rd timeline Tonkla's timeline, because I feel like it revolves around him.

Either way, I will focus on the 4-minute timeline and the third one in particular because I don't see a possible 4th one right now (I might by the end of this post, though, lol).

The question is, then, how we can determine which scenes belong to which timelines. I will get to that further below, because first...

Let’s look at some more details I’ve noticed.

Blurry Edges

One of those details is the dreamy, blurry edges (I'm sure there's a technical term for this, but I have no idea what that might be, I'm just guessing that they're adding it in post-production, but don't quote me on that). Much of the show has a dreamy feel overall, but I'm talking about the blurry edges in particular.

I've noticed blurry edges in the following scenes:

When Great feels iffy in the elevator (ep 1)

I'm pretty sure there's some of it happening in the scene when Tyme is treating Manee, both in the ER and in the OR during the surgery (ep 1)

At the family dinner when Great's mom tells him he should go see Manee at the hospital (ep 1)

When Great feels iffy at the hospital before his second 4MP (ep 1)

When Great is sitting in Title's car talking about where View is (ep 2)

I'm not sure about this one since it's hard to tell because it's dark, but it might be used in the scene where Title beats the shit out of Dome (ep 2)

When Great brings Dome into the hospital (ep 2)

When Korn is having a meeting with Fasai and her dad (ep 2)

When Great feels iffy and has his fourth 4MP at the basketball court (ep 3)

When Win reads through Tonkla's brother's social media posts and comments, which is a memory of him doing it (ep 3)

And I'm pretty sure we're getting more of this since there were scenes in the trailer that had those blurry edges as well, for example:

The pattern I'm seeing with these scenes (if we exclude the first scene in the elevator, Korn's meeting with Fasai, and Win's memories, the latter might've had blurry edges just because it was his memory, btw) is that each scene has something to do with Great's 4MP, before the rewind and/or after the rewind.

(Perhaps the reason for the blurry edges showing up in Korn's scene is because he's the possible third character that's having an OOBE. And if this theory is true, there's a possibility that there's yet another timeline/reality/perspective present that entwines with both Tonkla's and Great's timelines.)

There are also the tilting camera shots (mostly showing up in scenes with Great), which I might get into next week as I continue to build on this post.

But, what does all this with the blurry edges mean?

I have no fucking clue.

Perhaps it's just meant to show that things aren't what they seem. Perhaps it's meant to show which characters are experiencing OOBEs (Great, Tyme, and possibly Korn)? Perhaps it's meant to show moments that are affected by Great changing them through his 4MP? Again, I have no fucking clue, yet (but it might start to get clearer as we get more episodes).

So, moving on...

Different Realities/Parallel Worlds/POVs?

There is another aspect to this whole timelines discussion I'm having with myself that I want to bring up. And that's the clues I've found that support the possibility of different realities/parallel worlds/different point-of-views. I'm not sure what to call them, yet.

So, let's dive into the moments I'm referring to and try and figure it out.

The second time Great experiences his 4MP, he goes to the ER's front desk and we're shown the nurse's actual desk where there's a clock that we're supposed to focus on because it's telling us that time will do weird shit again.

The moment Great has been sent back in time (after being in Manee's room), he's standing in the same position, looking down at the clock on the desk, and realizes it's happened again (just like when he hit Manee). However, this time, the things on the desk are different.

The time on the clock is the same, but the mirror is in a different position, 75 has turned to 74 (I'm not sure what these numbers mean), 77F has turned to 76F (which I'm guessing are Fahrenheit degrees), and the pink, blue, and yellow papers are lying on top of the folder the second time around.

If Great was sent back in time to the exact moment he was in before he went to Manee's room, the things on the desk would've been in the same place, right? So, he might not even have been sent back to the reality he was in before this 4MP happened.

Another clue is the sunrise and the sunset artworks on the wall at the hospital. We often see them by the entryway:

Then, in the 2nd episode, it looks like at least the right one is hanging outside Manee's room (which we've seen isn't anywhere near the front desk since Great had to walk around a bend to get to her room in the first episode).

Could they have more than one of those artworks in the hospital? Sure. So, take this with a grain of salt.

(Btw, I find those artworks so fascinating because sunrises are usually cooler (more blueish) while sunsets are usually warmer (more red/orangeish). But from our perspective, looking at them straight on, the warmer artwork has the sun setting in the west while the cooler artwork has the sun rising in the east. And, since the eye in left-to-right reading cultures often automatically goes from left to right, it's interesting that the sunset comes first and then the sunrise. Perhaps it's to show that the world is turned upside down now that Great is having these weird experiences. Or perhaps it's to show that the time between the sunset and sunrise will be important for Great and Tyme since Great watches Tyme pass those artworks (from sunset to sunrise) the first time he has visions of them having sex. But, I digress...)

Another set of clues is in the scene with Great and Tyme sitting on the bleachers by the basketball court and Great has another 4MP in the third episode.

The first time we see this wide shot, there are 5 people (excluding Great and Tyme):

4 of them are wearing white shirts (one with a darker cardigan), and they sit on Great's side. One wears a blue shirt and sits on Tyme's side. This is where Great asks Tyme why he didn't call before coming to the University.

As they continue to talk (and the camera shot is closer to them), you can see the top of the head of a girl walking towards the bleachers. There's also another person walking by, waving, but he's walking right past them rather than towards the bleachers.

Then, as Great thanks Tyme for the Thai tea and gets up to leave, we get this wide shot. The only difference here is that the girl who walked towards the bleachers is now sitting next to her friend. That seems logical, right?

But, then Great has his rewind, and he comes back to the moment where Tyme reminds Great to get his wound treated. Great tells Tyme about his precognition and Tyme tells Great that he will consult with one of his doctor friends. Then, as Tyme stands up to leave, we get this wide shot:

The two girls at the bottom left are in the same position but the girls two steps above and to the far left are different, the boy and the girl next to them are new, and the boy with the white shirt to the right is the same boy that sat on Great's side previously.

Coincidence?

Well... After Tyme tells Great that he can call him Tyme rather than Doctor, and Great says that they should grab something to eat after he gets his wound treated, we get this shot:

Now we're back to the original two girls to the left, there are new boys wearing black on the bottom left, and the boy in blue is back again. That's a lot of moving around in such a short time.

The only things that stay consistent in all of the shots are the bags (except for one of them) and bottles.

So, what's going on? Is this another one of those things that happened at the hospital where Great was sent back to a reality where things were different from the reality he was in before the 4MP?

Is the show giving us different perspectives? For example, Great's perspective before his 4MP, Tyme's perspective when he says he'll talk to Den, and Great's perspective again when Tyme has left? That could work for the hospital example as well since it was from Great’s perspective before the 4MP but turned into Tyme’s after the 4MP as he asked the nurse at the front desk who the guy that bumped into him was.

Or is the show just underlining how strange everything is during the 4-minute timeline (and Great's possible OOBE)?

Well, the latter might not be it because clues like this don't just show up when Great is around.

In the first episode when Korn comes to Tonkla's place, Tonkla's laptop shows he has something blue and yellow on his screen:

Then the screen is black as if it's been turned off:

Later, when it cuts to them lying naked on the sofa, it's just white:

Also, notice how the small spotlight behind the desk is positioned differently and pointing in another direction on the desk than in the first image above.

Could it be that Tonkla simply used the laptop and moved the lamp between them having sex and lying there? Sure. Again, if we look at Korn's watch from the beginning of this whole sequence (7:15-ish pm) to when Tonkla wants a second round (8:55 pm), we know he had 1 h 40 min to rearrange things and do stuff on that laptop.

But, you know, unless the house is on fire, who would move from that spot on top their sugar daddy who is lying there deliciously naked? And especially to do some stuff on a laptop? Fuck technology (the not-so-good kind of fuck) and fuck your sugar daddy instead (the deliciously bad kind of fuck). We all know Tonkla wants to. But, I digress...

Take this detail with a grain of salt if you want to (or a whole fistful). For me, though, this shows that there's a possibility that changes and inconsistencies like this aren't just happening around Great. And (to my crazy mind, at least), that it might be two timelines showing up throughout this particular sequence between Korn and Tonkla.

24 Hour vs AM/PM Clock Settings

And on the topic of inconsistencies... Another thing I want to point out is the inconsistencies with the digital clocks when it comes to them being 24-hour clocks or set to the am/pm thing.

The hospital seems to have a 24-hour setting in some cases:

But not in others:

This could be in the morning, of course, and the darkness outside Manee's window might just be because of the thunder/lightning storm (but I still think it's night rather than morning).

And then we also have Great (who, to be fair, has a special relationship to time in this show), who sees 11:00/11:02 both in the morning and at night:

And the am/pm thing is on his phone when Korn drops him off:

Even though his phone seems to have the 24-hour setting:

More than once:

But, again, Great clearly has issues with time and clocks/watches. So, this might just be a way to show how confusing it is to him.

But, what if it isn't? What if it's an indication that several realities are entwining? (Okay, I feel like I'm going with the term "realities" when it comes to this.)

My Timelines So Far

So, what are my conclusions after watching the first 3 episodes?

At this point, I think there are 3 timelines:

The present timeline.

The 4-minute timeline.

The real past/Tonkla's timeline (which is meant to show us the real past events that happened, most of it from Tonkla's perspective).

Having Tonkla's timeline be the real past is possible considering the inconsistencies in time during the Korn and Tonkla scene and then the Korn and Great scene in the 1st episode.

And before someone says this doesn't make sense because of all the missed calls Korn has (if anyone is still reading this, lol)... Well, that's because Korn exists in both timelines and the scene when he looks at the missed calls in that bathroom in the 3rd episode:

Could be the 4-minute timeline rather than Tonkla's timeline (the real past). That could make sense because all we've seen of Tonkla since Korn told him off over the phone is him waiting by his phone for Korn to call.

We never saw Tonkla call Korn again after being told off.

On the flip side, if Korn is in the real past when he looks at those missed calls in episode 3, it would make sense that when he wants to call Tonkla while he's waiting for Great at the bar (in the 4-minute timeline), the icons on the top right of his phone are different from the phone he looked at in the bathroom:

(Am I getting too crazy about this? Yes. Do I care? No, because it's fun.)

Could he be using different phones? Yes. Could those icons change depending on where he is and what settings he's using? Sure (I'm not familiar with Samsung phones so I have no idea what most of those icons mean). But it could also mean that we're seeing Korn in different timelines in these two scenes, which makes it possible for Tonkla's timeline to show us the real past.

(I personally prefer the option that the scene with Korn looking at the missed calls is from Tonkla's timeline (the real past) while Korn almost calling Tonkla in the bar, and then smiling at his phone as he's going to the bathroom, is from the 4-minute timeline where Tonkla's brother (who I believe is Dome) hasn't been killed.)

Also, I think showing us the real past is a smart way to show us what leads up to Tonkla beating the shit out of someone.

(I believe that scene is from the real timeline, and whoever he's beating with that rock, might have an effect on the things that are happening right now. I'm not sure what kind of effect, though. Perhaps it's a possible third person experiencing an OOBE and "living" in the 4-minute timeline. Perhaps Great is going through this OOBE to prevent that murder from happening after he wakes up (if he ever does). I'm not sure at this point.)

So, that's where I'm at with the timelines after 3 episodes.

And, when it comes to the inconsistencies in certain scenes, the easy answer is that they are just meant to show that this whole 4-minute timeline is an inconsistent mess of (what I believe to be) Great's OOBE.

But, I would personally find it more interesting if these inconsistencies (like all the people around Great and Tyme changing in that scene at the basketball court) are evidence that there is more than one character experiencing an OOBE and that the inconsistencies shown are there because the characters have different perspectives of the events happening.

Now, I had planned to make a flowchart of the scenes in each episode divided into the three different timelines I've written about above. But, I want to get this post out before the 4th episode drops tomorrow, and I just don't have time to make the flowchart before that (or enough images left in this post to fit something like a flowchart in it before I hit the pesky limit). So I'll wait with that chart until next week instead (when I'll continue to build on this post in a reblog).

Waiting to create and post the flowchart until after the new episode tomorrow also gives me another episode to nerd out about. It's a win-win for me.

#ice queen holmes #4 minutes #4 minutes the series #thai ql #thai bl #thai series #my shit

96 notes · View notes

iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 1 year

Text

taedros taedros

part two: taedros twodros ☆ part three: taedros tresdros**NEW wc: 2k reader: femme afab warnings: MINORS DNI EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ -- porn with plot, oral f!receiving, swearing, calling tae a virgin loser as a joke, mentioning the weeknd LMAO summary: loserbestfriend!taerae makes you watch the idol on hbo max with him for movie night, but a certain convertible scene sparks your "curiosity" more than the others... and taerae proves he might not be such a loser after all. :0 omg who am i?? i even wrote in all lower case letters in the fic to throw you off... i know you'll know right away though but that's not the point lmao!! i just didn't think i should be this horny for taerae on main so. here's the dedicated zb1 smut blog no one was asking for (except me. i was asking for it so let me live.) thank you to taerae for posting these pics next to each other and ruining my life. also the idol sucks and sam levinson and the weeknd are horrific for creating it. i only know some scenes from it because i watch comedy commentary videos about it. jennie is beautiful tho love her. ALSO i thought of this title and i cried laughing. mwahaha okay thanks for reading byeeeee

“this is the worst show I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say with a laugh, throwing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “i can’t believe we’ve made it through two episodes already.”

🚨 SMUT BELOW CUT -- MINORS DNI -- 18+ 🚨

taerae sighs, “i think i’m gonna need to bleach my eyes.”

“throw some in my ears while you’re at it,” you joke, letting a leg drape over your best friend’s. you’re crammed together in the bottom bunk of his dorm room bed, watching the idol on the tv that’s hung at the foot of it. “i will never, ever be unable to hear the weeknd whispering, ‘stretch that tiny little pussy for me’. and every single day i will beg the lord for mercy.”

“are we sure we wanna watch the third episode?” taerae asks-- shifting a bit next to you. “this show is so graphic.”

“of course the virgin wants to chicken out,” you tease, smacking his stomach with a pillow. he grabs it from you and leaves it there. “you’re the one who wanted to watch it! now you wanna quit two episodes in? not gonna happen. we can make it through this.”

if you hadn’t pressed play at that exact moment, you would’ve heard taerae gulp beside you.

the intro of the show plays, assaulting your eyes with an up-close and personal view of jocelyn’s bare chest. what else is new? you yawn, hoping the third episode’s graphic scenes (at the very least) won’t be repetitive. bitch has put on a blindfold to end both episodes so far...

sitting with your back leaning against the wall, you try to steal a glance at taerae. his upper back is propped up on his pillow as he lies perpendicular to you, facing the tv screen. you watch his eyes, catching the subtle dilation of his pupils. it could be the light from the television in the otherwise dark room shifting their size, but you find yourself curious nonetheless.

“do you think she’s pretty?” you ask suddenly.

taerae coughs. “me? do i think the actress is pretty?”

you nod, eyes returning to the screen in hopes that the lack of eye contact will make taerae feel comfortable enough to give you an answer.

“she’s pretty, yeah,” he says after a moment.

“like, you’re attracted to her?” you clarify, throwing another piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“uh,” he hesitates and you feel his legs tense up under yours. “i guess. i mean she’s not really my type, but--.”

“but you like her tits.”

“exactly,” taerae agrees too quickly. “wait, no--.”

“no need to walk it back,” you cut him off with a snort. “boobs are hot. end of story.”

taerae sits up a bit more, seemingly trying to relax after your probing. you didn’t talk to taerae about sex or girls all that much, but you’d be lying if you said the show hadn’t suddenly made you a bit curious. what experience did your lovable loser of a best friend have-- if any at all?

the interrogatory questions you’re suddenly wanting to ask are thrown from your brain, however, as the show now cuts to a shot of the weeknd (you and taerae refuse to call him tedros tedros) and jocelyn in the back of a convertible-- their poor assistant driving these two insufferable cretins down the freeway.

nothing’s out of the ordinary until jocelyn crawls from her seat and lifts one leg to straddle the weeknd. she’s in a slinky tangerine bodysuit and little black shorts and the weeknd’s hands easily envelope her waist. you roll your eyes, already having grown so sick of these two.

but when jocelyn is suddenly pushed to the edge of the seat, her back against the car door and her head resting on the frame-- your attention is piqued. the weeknd wraps his hands around her thighs, prying them apart so he can pull her shorts to the side just enough to fit his tongue. the actress’s head lolls back over the car door frame; her blonde hair dangling over the side and flowing in the wind. her face is screwed up in absolute bliss and the sounds coming out of her confirm her state.

would she really be screaming like that just from his tongue?

“um,” you hear taerae say and you look over at him curiously. “if-- if he’s good with it, then yeah. she would be, i guess.”

you frown. what was he talking about? if he’s good with what? ... oh fuck, you think as you realize that you’d accidentally said your previous thought out loud. and now poor taerae is stumbling to give you an answer.

what did he say? if he’s good with it then she would be.

“huh,” you mumble, your brow furrowing as you ponder his answer.

you turn back to the tv, but taerae clears his throat. “what?”

“what? what do you mean, what?”

“why did you say ‘huh’ like that?” he asks, the pillow on his stomach rustling as he shifts slightly. “do you not agree or something?”

“oh, uh,” you stutter as you feel your cheeks start to heat, not sure what to say. “um, i guess i wouldn’t know.”

the silence from taerae is deafening as your eyes stay locked on the tv. you’re not sure why you said that. you could’ve just lied. you should’ve just lied.

“are you a virgin?” taerae asks softly. the accusation whips your head around to stare at him angrily and his eyes widen cautiously.

“obviously not,” you answer in a huff. “i just... i’ve never...”

you look down at your lap, picking at the skin on your fingers. you should stop while you can. you don’t need to tell the truth. why are you even considering telling him this?

“no one’s ever gone down on me or anything.”

“oh,” taerae manages to respond after a long moment, but you can’t even look at him.

“yeah.”

another moment of silence. “you shouldn’t be, like, embarrassed by that. that’s... that’s entirely their fault for not prioritizing you, you know?”

your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, the aforementioned embarrassment flushing your skin as you nod. the show is still playing, but you can only hear garbled sounds. why did you tell him that!? now taerae has to awkwardly comfort you when you could’ve just shut your mouth in the first place. you didn’t really talk about these kinds of things with taerae. your best friend was there for movie nights, chinese food binges, laughing until you cry, and most importantly taking the absolute piss out of...

and here you were making him uncomfortable by randomly talking about your oral virginity.

“would you want me to do it?”

taerae’s voice is so quiet that you’re positive for a moment that you hallucinated it. you look over at your best friend tentatively to find his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping his pillow to his stomach.

“what?”

taerae blinks nervously. “if you wanted to, you know, try it... i could--.”

“WHAT!?” you shout; hands grabbing the pillow on taerae’s stomach and throwing it across the room. “are you-- are you fucking joking!? you think i’m desperate enough to ask my best friend to eat me out?”

“no, no, no,” taerae respond quickly, hands flying up in defense. “not at all!”

“then what?” you ask, jaw setting in anger as you wait for a good enough answer to keep you from punching him in the balls.

taerae’s lips form the slightest pout. “you seemed really curious about it. i just... i just thought i’d offer.”

you bite your lip as you think. “what do you even know about that kind of thing? I thought you were a virgin loser.”

“ouch,” taerae says but quickly shrugs it off. “i guess you’re only right about half of that statement.”

you frown. even though you’d never talked about it before, was taerae secretly experienced? more experienced than you?

“you don’t have to say yes though,” he adds quickly. “i’m sorry; i probably shouldn’t have said any--.”

“okay,” you cut him off softly.

taerae’s eyes widen in surprise. “okay?”

you nod slowly. “i don’t believe you that you’re not a virgin loser, but if you’re offering...”

taerae sits up, leaning on his hands as a little smirk lights up his face. “i’ll eat you out and then you can eat those words. how does that sound?”

the way your heat flutters at his words catches you off guard. so does the way he swiftly flips you onto your back as you take the position he was just in.

“whoah,” you exhale, your best friend absolutely knocking the wind out of you as he positions himself between your thighs. he takes the hem of your shorts in his fingers, eyebrows raising at you expectantly. you lift up your hips enough for him to shimmy them off, discarding them on the floor without taking his eyes off your still-clothed center.

you glance at your underwear, panic immediately hitting you when you realize you wore the only clean pair that you had left...

a black, lace thong.

they were the only pair left, because you honestly hadn’t had a reason to wear them in a little while.

“fuck,” taerae curses, hands wrapped around the outsides of your thighs. “were you going somewhere after this or...?”

“if you don’t shut your mouth, i’ll be going somewhere before this,” you threaten, but the words come out shakier than you would’ve liked as taerae begins to plant open-mouthed kisses up your thighs. “... ‘s laundry day tomorrow.”

“mm, I see,” he replies, shifting his weight to one hand so he can bring his right hand to your heat. your heart rate rises as he moves towards where you’re quickly growing to need his attention most. two fingers press at your clothed-core gently and the sound of the tv in the background does nothing to dampen the moan that escapes you from just the small amount of pressure.

“laundry day’s coming just in time i think,” taerae says, a smirk highlighting his cavernous dimples in a light you’ve never seen before. “from the way you’re soaking through these.”

“shut up,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face. taerae hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging at them playfully to get your attention. peeking out through your fingers, you glare at him.

“do you want to stop?” he asks, removing his hands quickly. “we can stop if you want to or need to or anything.”

you reach down and grab both of his hands in yours, reattaching them to your underwear. “please keep going.”

he blinks at you for a moment before nodding, pulling your thong down your legs as you lift your hips up for him. taerae lies down fully in between your thighs now, guitar-string calloused hands wrapping around your thighs and guiding them to rest on his shoulders.

“so pretty,” he whispers. eyes focusing on your throbbing cunt, taerae’s grip on your legs gets a little tighter-- a little more desperate. “really.”

“thanks,” you respond shyly, watching as a bit of steam begins to coat the rim of taerae’s glasses. you can’t help but smile as you reach for them, carefully removing the frames and placing them on the stand next to his bed.

“thanks,” he echoes.

“i’m still not convinced that you aren’t a-- oh fuck...” just as you’re about to tease your loser of a best friend again, his tongue finds your core and licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit. taerae exhales a laugh against your pussy, tongue circling your clit as his hands now take hold of your hips.

“wait, what the fuck?” you whine breathlessly as he works you over with his mouth. “tae, i thought... oh my god.”

“taste so good, baby,” taerae moans like he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. he slips a finger in your entrance carefully, stretching you until he deems you ready for a second. “Think this pussy might be perfect.”

his eyes are closed; eating at you like you’re his favorite meal. it’s hot. way hotter than the scene from the show. way hotter than anything on that stupid show-- in which another sex scene is playing on the screen behind taerae. you suddenly feel so much pity for jocelyn; one of the hardest characters in history to pity. but the fact that there’s no way tedros fucking tedros is eating her out as good as taerae’s eating you out right now is tugging at your heart strings.

“tae,” you whimper, feeling the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten. your hand tangling up in his hair at the nape of his neck causes him to moan into you and the vibration only makes you tug harder. “please, please wanna cum.”

“already? you sure?” he says, disappointment coating his voice. “could eat this pussy all night.”

“holy shit,” you exhale. you didn’t even know taerae was capable of talking like this. the only time he ever said pussy around you was if he was calling you one. now as he looks up at you from between your thighs, his pretty dimpled-smile covered in your juices as he continues to fuck you with his fingers and press his thumb against your clit...

you’re nodding frantically now. “please, please tae. make me cum.”

“fuck, baby, okay. whatever you want,” he agrees quickly, the lust in his eyes at your demand reaching a whole new level. he removes his thumb from your clit and the sudden lack of contact causes you to whine pathetically. “sshhh, don’t worry baby. i’ve got something even better, i promise.”

just as some tears from frustration are welling up in your eyes, taerae’s lips close around your clit and he begins to suck. “oh my GOD,” is all you can manage as your orgasm starts to wash over you. “taerae. oh my god, tae... c-cumming.”

you’re grinding your pussy against his tongue now to maximize the friction and the way he lifts your hips a bit to bring you even closer tells you that he’s loving every second of this. your moans match the ones that taerae is mewing into your core. he places your hips back down onto the mattress, holding them steady as you start to squirm a bit from the overstimulation. he continues to lap at you gently as your hand falls from his hair to his shoulder, causing him to look up at you.

your cheeks are red now from both your climax and the new wave of embarrassment that’s creeping up on you. you’re not sure what to say, but luckily taerae’s got you covered.

he inserts two fingers inside of you again and then pulls them out-- covered in your juices. without hesitating, he sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean. “you’ve tasted yourself, right? probably a lot. fuck, i’m so jealous.”

your jaw drops a bit, now doubly unable to speak at the filth pouring out of your best friend’s mouth..

taerae frowns at you. “what? you want to make this awkward now?”

you shake your head.

“was it good?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he squints slightly. you reach over to his nightstand and grab his glasses, handing them back to him. he puts them on; raising his hand to ruffle his hair.

“you know it was good,” you mumble annoyedly.

he grins. “yeah. i do.”

“UGH,” you groan, hiding behind your hands again. “i hate you.”

“please, pleeeease tae,” he mocks, climbing up closer to your face to really rub it in. “make me cum.”

“SHUT UP!” you shout, hitting his chest with your fists in annoyance. “do not get cocky about this.”

taerae shrugs, biting his lip to keep from smirking. “i guess you never wanna do this again then?”

you sigh defeatedly before replying softly, “i didn’t say that.”

“good,” he says with a smile-- shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. “i’m gonna get you some water and a towel, okay? don’t move a muscle.”

you don’t. taerae had made sure of that with the orgasm he’d just pulled out of you. as the door to his dorm room closes behind him, you’re left with only your thoughts and the sound of that shitty tv show playing in the background. you reach for the remote weakly, pressing pause on a bizarre scene of the weeknd jerking it over a clothing rack (?).

all you can think about, though, is taerae lapping at your pussy like a starved man. what the fuck just happened? did you really just let your best friend eat you out?

and how the fuck had he managed to leave you wanting more?

1K notes · View notes

wanderlust-in-my-soul · 6 months

Text

Currently Watching - April

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 30.04.2024

A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

I am happy about gif-requests 🌼

Here you can find all of my gifs.

Tracking: #josistag

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in April with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. 25 Ju, Akasaka de 🇯🇵 (2/10)

They were fellow students and now they have to play in a BL together. One of them is two years older and popular. For the other one, this is his first big role and he needs it, so he is determined to to anything he needs to do, to be a good actor. Even when this means to find a partner and fall in love to be able to play the role perfectly. Why not try to be lovers with your co-star. All for the sake of the series of course.

2. Blue Boys 🇰🇷 (2/4)

This short series is quite good. I saw the first episode by chance and I was hooked, but lost it again, because I couldn't track it on MDL. Now it is up there. I hope these two can resolve their missunderstanding, with talking! But they are too hungry for each other...

3. Boys Be Brave! 🇰🇷 (2/8)

Enemies to lovers, but different. Jinwoo likes Kisub and Kisub knows this. But while Kisub gives his heart away to every person who hits on him and can't really say No to anyone, Jinwoo loves to build up his wall and hide behind a strong No. Their worlds collide, when Kisub moves in with Jinwoo, if he likes it or not. Great first episodes!

4. Cityboy_Log 🇰🇷 (12/?)

They are back and unhinged like before! Jihan and Jaejun met after a while because they were busy and it seems they had some catching up to do the night before. We get some daily vlogging, some cuteness and some jealousy, which wasn't that cute. But they are finally back and I am happy. The acting is still very good. There is no deeper story behind, just some idols, models and actors falling in love with each other and theit daily lifes.

5. Deep Night 🇹🇭 (3/8)

his is everything I was expecting, so it didn't disappoint, I guess. To be honest, I watch this for First. I guess he would have chemistry with a stick, soooo this is nice. And I hope the story, at least stays like this and won't get worse... Update: This show is a mess 😂 there is so much going on all at once and at the same time nothing really happens? It is so confusing, yet very entertaining. But Wela, my dear, it is totally okay to be pissed if one fucks with you, while you are so drunk you can't remember shit the next day... Just a thought.

6. Kare no Iru Seikatsu 🇯🇵 (3/8)

Kazuhito has no girlfriend and the ones he had, broke up with him, because they felt he likes someone else... Who might that be?... The story is simple, I guess? (But perhaps not that simple... The preview for ep 3 looks interesting.) Childhood friends are forced to move in together after spending time apart. One is a little bit naive and is trying to find out why girls breaking up with the most charming and handsome guy he knows and the latter is in love with the naive one and in the end they have their happy ending. I like it. I want to see their growth.

7. Love Is Like A Cat 🇰🇷 (10/12)

Who thought this was a good idea? Who wrote this? Who said cut at the end of scenes? Who thought this is be the way Mew should act? I cringe so hard and not in a funny way. This series is just bad. I keep watching because of this little bean. But I had to skip so many scenes in today's episodes, because it was just so bad! And I can't figure out if Mew just didn't want to be there and act or if that is the way the director wanted him to act... But the acting is bad. Bad choices everywhere. And the dialogues? Cringe... Why would a bean like Dae Byeol fall for Uno? Nope...

8. My Stand-In 🇹🇭 (1/12)

Okay, hear me out. I watch this for Poom and for Poom only. But the story lookes interesting, it was quite intriguing. I don't know why, but I cringed a bit too much at some scenes. But Poom is beautiful and that is all I care about. Yes, I can be this shallow!

9. Only Boo 🇹🇭 (4/12)

The cringe was so strong with this one this week! I had to pause multiple times, but at the same time I enjoyed it so much! Moo is so unhinged and I love him! But please! Don't let Moo's cousin become a possible love interest for Kang. I know we got this dream sequence this week, but there is something in the air between Shone and him... and I don't like it. The second couple... I felt really sad for them this week. Beeing in love with your best friend is never easy...

10. Unknown 🇹🇼 (12/12)

The story about found family, childhood trauma and struggling topped with a lovestory between "brothers". They aren't really brothers so I really don't care and just enjoy this forbidden and hurtful lovestory to the fullest. This is exactly what I hoped for! The longing, tension and hurting is so good! It is the aftermath of the shooting and Qian is still dealing with his emotions and his feelings for Yuan. The love between them is real and strong, but Qian is afraid and can't just let his heart decide over the head, yet. He loves Yuan, but is afraid what that means for them and especially for Yuan's future. And yet he held him back. He was the one reaching out in the end! I have said enough about them and this first part of ep 11 in my post. I love them. My heart belongs to them. I wish we had more developement between these two as a couple, but I still love them and I forgive this show the rush in the end, because I love it so much.

11. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (20/36)

Those two flirt a lot and are a married couple. Everyone knows that. And I love and enjoy that! Overall this is such a fun watch and the different sects and intrigues are sometimes a little bit confusing, but interesting. I love this world of martial arts and I love how protective Wen Kexing is over Zhou Zishu.

Finished in April

Series

My Strawberry Film 🇯🇵

This is what I call a love triangle. And the fact that the screenwriters worked for Eien No Kinou or Jack o'Frost promised some heartbreak and teenage angst. And they delivered. I really like this series. And I felt so many emotions, especially for Ryo. And I really loved the ending. No fake relationship and no unrealistic confessions, just some teenagers in love and being friends. And I think Hiraku was such a sweet friend in this last episode. He apologized and he finally recognized Ryo's feelings for him. And I believe they stay friends in the future. It might be difficult, but a good friendship is worth fighting for. It has so much to do with respect and love for each other. It is a solid 8 out of 10 for me.

Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto 🇯🇵

The story about highschool sweethearts, who didn't have the chance to enjoy their young love, because of horrible family backgrounds. Their story is devastating and I am happy they found their way back to each other. The story was good, the acting was good, I am in love with Furuya Robin, which is nice, and the side characters were special (shoutout to Yuto!). I wish there was more "passion" from Miyata, but I guess it is due to his character. Overall it was a good watch and I enjoyed it! A good 8 out of 10 for me.

Jazz For Two 🇰🇷

I love bls about music and about traumatic pasts. The second couple has my heart. I just love them coming together. Usually I hate this bully-trope, but with them, I kinda enjoyed it. Perhaps because Jooha always looked like a hurting puppy. Overall the homophobia in this one is strong and I think it is interesting to see them deal with their own feelings. Internal and external homophobia is such a big thing in all their stories and I wish they had more time to show the developement from hating themselves to loving the other person and themselves. But in my opinion they made a good story and a good show. I like it very much. And what was that kiss in the end? Wow! A good 9 out of 10 for.

To Be Continued 🇹🇭

I really like this one! I read some comments that the reason they never got together was just stupid, but from their perspective I can understand why they reacted how they reacted. They were young and unsure what to do and what all of this meant for them and their friendship. What I liked about the show was the present and past scenes. We learned so much about their past and the scenes fitted perfectly. It was a really good series and I am glad I waited to binge it. Guess I come back to this one from time to time. Rewatch value is there. And those two have really good chemistry! A good 9 out of 10 for me.

Movie

Short Film

Dropped in April

We are 🇹🇭

I dropped this after the first half of the first episode. There are a few reasons for that. First, I need some shows to binge on lonely sundays. And second, I just don't feel like watching this one. It was so quirky for me. Not my kinf od humor right now.

Looking forward to in April

Love is like a cat - Trailer (Apr 1st)

We are - Trailer (Apr 3rd)

Memory in a letter - Trailer (Apr 6th)

Grey Shelter (Apr 11th)

Kare no Iru Seikatsu - Trailer (Apr 12th)

The Spirealm (Apr 15th)

Boys be brave! (Apr 25th)

25 Ji, Akasaka de (Apr 19th)

Kimi to Yukite Saku: Shinsengumi Seishunroku (Apr 25th)

My Stand-In - Trailer (Apr 26th)

Zettai BL ni Naru Sekai VS Zettai BL ni Naritakunai Otoko 2024

Knock Knock, Boys - Trailer

152 notes · View notes

cookiescribble · 1 year

Text

First Day

A/N: this has been in my head for a long time because I have random trivial star trek knowledge and whenever they show spencer talking about star trek in the show i go all heart eyes so I wrote a little blurb 🫶🏻 also I had fem!reader in mind when I wrote this but I realized I didn’t actually make any references to gender so 🤷🏻 - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: Spencer bonds with his new coworker over Star Trek.

~~~

It was my first day at the BAU, and I was a little… intimidated being here. I had been mostly keeping my head down and staying quiet, since social interaction wasn’t something I was great at. I was okay just watching the others interact with each other for now.

“Hey, kid,” Derek called out, beckoning Spencer. “I need your help with the crossword.”

Spencer walked over to Derek’s desk, which was next to mine. “What’s up?” he asked.

Derek pointed to the newspaper with his pencil. “7 across: James _ Kirk (Star Trek). 8 letters.”

Tiberius, I thought instinctively. I considered saying it out loud, but he hadn’t asked me, so I decided to stay quiet.

“Tiberius,” Spencer said, almost as fast as I had thought it.

I smiled to myself. I was always the only one who knew about geeky stuff. Until now, I guess.

Derek finished filling in the crossword. “Thanks. I knew it was always James T. Kirk, but I didn’t know what it stood for.”

Without thinking, I spoke up. “Actually, in the third episode of The Original Series, someone who’s fighting Kirk prepares a gravestone for him and it says James H. Kirk.”

Everyone turned to look at me, staring at me with open mouths. I blushed. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But now I felt uncomfortable sitting in this silence.

I cleared my throat. “Um. So. Yeah. It wasn’t always James T. Kirk, as you said. They didn’t mention his full initials until-“

“Episode 13: The Conscience of the King.” Spencer cut me off, his eyes lighting up like he had been dying to talk about this. He walked over to my desk and leaned on the front of it. “The first time they mention it is when Spock is checking his background and speaks it into the computer.”

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, and they don’t mention the name Tiberius until the 6th movie, The Undiscovered Country.”

“Oh my god, there are two of them,” I heard Emily say.

Either Spencer didn’t hear her or he was purposefully ignoring her. “Actually…” he started, sitting on my desk. He was bouncing a little. “The first time the name Tiberius is mention is in The Animated Series episode BEM.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” I admitted. “I’ve never actually seen The Animated Series. Actually, I’ve only ever seen part of The Original Series…”

That only made him sit up straighter. “Do you want to watch it? I have every episode on DVD. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve always wanted to finish watching it, and watch the other shows too. If you don’t mind me imposing…”

He shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. Not a lot of people I know are interested in Star Trek, so I’m happy to show it to you if you’re interested. You can come by my apartment sometime and we can watch it.”

I nodded. “That sounds great. I appreciate it.”

I heard people whispering in the distance.

“Did he just-“

“Shh, don’t say anything, you’ll jinx it. I think this is the first time in history that this has ever worked.”

“And probably the last time it will ever work. This is definitely a unique circumstance.”

I blushed a little as I heard everyone talking about us, but I continued chatting comfortably with Spencer for a while before everyone was interrupted by the news that we had a case. But I was really relieved that, despite feeling so overwhelmed about starting this job, I had been able to make a friend on my first day.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x male!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #mod angel

994 notes · View notes

lunexrin · 9 months

Text

KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE !

"Why the hell would you do that?!" "Did you think I wanted to?! Your germs... Ew.”

Blurb: A few glimpses of certain episodes if you and Tsukishima Kei were in a shoujo anime!

Genre/Tropes: academic rivals, slice of life, shoujo, romance, slow burn (?).

Reader: fem. (you will be addressed as 'Seiu' which is your supposed last name because i hate putting 'y/n' in my writings. it feels like a turn-off, for me.)

WC: 4.7k.

A/N: oh my god it has been so long?? this idea came from back in SEPTEMBER, on his birthday. and yes it took that long to finish *insert crying emoji*. this is my longest work so far (7 jan 24). but i don’t really like it? i think it’s tedious. i apologize for any grammar mistakes, and would love any feedbacks or critics *insert crying emoji again*.

“Aw, look at you,” He cooed, and you're actually contemplating on smashing your head straight into the glass window of your class rather than hearing his taunts to degrade your scores on this stupid, science quiz.

His pale, slender fingers came into your harsh gaze, watching him tap the wood of your desk in an unknown yet familiar rhythm, gazing down at you. “Why the sour face? You got a ninety-nine, your scores are higher than most in this class— ah!” He snapped his fingers like something suddenly clicked in his mind that he definitely hadn’t thought of before and that he definitely wasn’t using it to brag about it. “But I don’t think you’re the highest, though..”

Darn him for getting the highest. Darn him for getting a hundred.

You could just see him grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat even though your eyes are still glued on your scores.

Ninety-nine. And a little ‘good job’ note the science teacher wrote on the side, with a little smiley face next to it.

Now, why the hell did that smiley face seem like it's mocking you?

“Hey,” he crouched down, resting his forearms on the edge of your desk, and looked into your eyes, his smirk growing bigger. You looked back at him, and your eyes narrowed. “Thought you were crying for a sec.”

You felt offended and immediately went defensive. “I was not!” You exclaimed, accidentally slamming your arms on the desk louder than intended, resulting in dozens of heads turning, and a disapproving look of your teacher from the front of the class.

“Good. You were too quiet, made me uncomfortable.”

You opened your mouth to continue the argument, but before you could say anything, the teacher spoke. “Seiu! Tsukishima!” You both turned towards the teacher, and she gauged her eyes at you both. You knew what she meant, and so you slumped back in your chair defeatedly, while the blonde returned to his seat— that was unfortunately next to you— triumphantly.

“Remember the deal.” He whispered from his seat, scoffing while he took out his notebook and pens.

You sighed and clenched your jaw. “Fine. I’ll get you the darn strawberry shortcake after school.”

“I was afraid that you’d run off,” He was leaning against the wall, close to the gates of your school. “You can be a little cranky about saving a few pennies, don’t you?” He took off his headphones, letting out a small chuckle.

Yes, you can be cranky about money, but a promise is a promise.

There's this stupid bet, or dare I say a tradition where after every quiz, debate, and exam— the one who tops gets to ask the other to buy whatever they wish.

“The usual?” You asked, with the most deadpan expression you could’ve pulled. Tsukishima burst out laughing at that, pointing his finger at your face and mocking every little detail he could.

“It’s either you shut that darn mouth of yours or the strawberry shortcake—”

“Okay, okay! The— pfft— the strawberry shortcake, sure sure.”

You dragged him out of the school gates by the end of his uniform, and he laughed again.

So annoying.

He sees that you are leading him (dragging him) around the familiar streets that lead to the café that you both always went to, ever since freshman year.

He sighed. “The usual it is.”

A few moments passed by, and you both fell into a comfortable silence, which was almost too good to be true. You often just stared at the long shadows on the ground, following you and Tsukishima’s every little movement. Once in a while, crows would caw as they fly high up in the sky, making you look up to the orange-purple skies, the orange rays illuminating your eyes.

At times you overlooked nature, and sometimes you just lost yourself in it.

And at times you overlooked the way your heart beats faster when he looked at you like this— under the sunset where no other soul was near.

“What?” You asked, looking at him in the corner of your eye. Your heart beat faster when you saw him literally glowing under the sun, looking at you with a smile that seemed a whole lot more genuine than you’d like it to be.

He scoffed, staring up at the sky, and then at you. You noticed the two tiny twinkles of light in his golden brown eyes— wait, since when was it there and why are you noticing it just now?

“Nothing, pipsqueak.” He says, staring up ahead with a cheeky grin.

The familiar ding of the bell echoed through the empty, dim-lighted bakery, the nostalgic aroma of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee hits your nostrils, feeling at home.

A small smile curved on your lips, and a sigh of contentment escaped your lips. "Home sweet home." You said, eyes twinkling in fondness.

Making your way towards the counter, you paid for everything that you would be indulging, including his strawberry shortcake that looked ridiculously good. Sitting in the very corner of the small shop, you got yourself lost in the atmosphere as the rain fell outside.

You rested your head atop the wooden table, eyes watching out the race of rain droplets to see which one won, just like when you were a kid— when life was nothing but sunshine and rainbows, unlike now, where everything felt so nonchalant to you, for some reason.

Shamelessly, you kept your mouth stuffed with the cream bread you'd always eat, ever since you discovered this precious of a place. Glancing at the male who's apparently just as caught up with the rain as you are, stuffing his mouth with some strawberry, you begin talking (with your mouth full, still.)

"Are you ever going to try something else?" Your eyes shot to the cake, then back to him. He scrunched up his nose, an expression of disgust as he saw your stuffed mouth. You rolled your eyes, not caring. "It's not like you ever tried anything else— and stop eating like that. It's not like the bread would run off—"

"It's not like the bread would run off." You mimicked him, and he gritted his teeth. "Annoying little shit." He whispered, sipping at the warm coffee to try to keep his cool.

"I didn't know you had a habit of talking to yourself." You smirked, glancing at the tall, clear jug filled with water right in between you both on the table, doing a splendid job at reflecting himself on it. His eyes shot open, glaring at you and the poor jug.

"You weren't this talkative earlier," he said, setting his coffee on the table. "Finally getting over your marks?" He asked, his smirk returning which made your eyes roll.

"Bastard."

“Oi, Seiu.” He almost grumbled out your name, your ears catching the sounds of flipping papers, even through the headphones sitting on your head.

“What?” You replied groggily, taking off your headphones. You’re just about to fall asleep but he ruined it!

You were slumped next to him on the train, temple resting against the cold, metal railing on your side. Maybe it’s because of the scorching weather this July that you felt so incredibly exhausted— all your willpower was drained out at school earlier, and coming to cram school to violate your energy and brain further certainly doesn’t help your current state in any way.

You feel as if your soul is going to be sucked out, yet he’s still reviewing the papers? Doesn’t he feel tired or something?

“English essay papers. The one the teacher graded earlier.” His palm was lazily exposed in front of you, expecting the marked sheets to arrive in it upon his demand. Tsukishima doesn’t know what ‘asking’ is.

“You can still study?” You mumbled, eyes narrowing as you rummaged through your bag. Wrinkles formed on your forehead when your eyes turned into thin slits trying to search for what you wanted, the blur decorating your eyes not subsiding as quickly as you wanted it to.

“You’re going to get old faster than anyone else with that frown of yours.” His voice was lower than usual, but the playful spark remained. His banter was replied to only by the click of your tongue. You’re too tired to joke around.

When you finally found it, you shoved the crumpled sheets into his hand and slumped your head back onto the railing. “Don’t you know what rest is?” You said, sighing as you got into a more comfortable position, forgetting about the device hanging on your neck.

“I need to work harder to beat you.” His eyes narrowed as he read the messy scribbling of your writing, but he can’t deny how he adored your talent to form a masterpiece with a foreign land’s words, every. single. time.

“You’ve already beaten me a lot of times, didn’t you?” At times like this when your consciousness stays for the sake of a conversation, you’re more truthful, or maybe even less hostile. You didn’t have the energy to have an ongoing banter with him no more.

Even though your vision was black, you could feel his eyes glued to you. You were expecting some witty comebacks to launch from his mouth, but he was silent, for a while. It’s deafening.

It almost makes you uneasy.

“I’m not as smart as you, Seiu.” He finally blurted out, but it was so quiet.

Your eyelids fluttered open just slightly as if you couldn’t believe your ears.

He beat you every single time, so what nonsense is spitting out from his mouth? Did the weather get to him too? Until he’s feeling ‘under the weather’? (With all puns intended.)

Ironically as that thought finished, the rain fell. Hard.

You moved the back of your head towards the glass window instead, the coldness of the rain droplets spreading through the glass sent a wave of relief onto your body.

You eyed him from the corner of your eye. That bad posture, the metal frame that sits atop the bridge of his nose that looked like it was about to fall any second from now, the crumpled sheets that were lucky enough to feel the caress of his slender fingers—

You’re doing it again. You’re too observant at times like this, it’s more than necessary.

“You’re insane.” You snorted, closing your eyes again.

“You’re a fucking genius without trying, Seiu.” It’s his time to sigh, almost frustrated. “You don’t even try.”

It’s true. You’re lazy. You hardly even try and yet you score all of your exams.

“If ever someday you decided to pick up a book and scribble more notes..” He drifted off, and you’re kind of eager for him to continue.

“I’m done for.” He mumbled.

What a compliment, you thought. Maybe you would’ve grinned cheekily if you had the energy, but you don’t.

“Wow.” That’s all you could utter.

You could hear him huff as if he was regretting what he said.

“Just don’t get all romantic and don’t sleep on my shoulder.” He mumbled, the sound of turning pages starting again.

“I don’t want your cooties either.”

“Good night, Seiu.”

You both snorted out loud.

It was P.E., and another class had joined yours’ to play.

It was a warming-up session, and everyone needed to jog a few laps before playing.

You weren’t exactly the sporty type that had a lot of stamina, and you never liked running. The summer was taking a toll on you again, and you were slower than usual— than everyone. You were at the very back when the other girls were a few meters away. You’re not too slow, but not that fast enough.

Behind you were the boys, from your class and the other. You didn’t pay much to them and kept jogging.

You did notice a couple of times that Tsukishima was staring at you, and even when you caught his gaze, his eyes were still on you. It was nothing new, just that same old glare he always gives you.

You heard laughter erupting from behind, footsteps becoming louder as a group of guys caught up beside you. One of them pushed the other and he ended up bumping into you hard. You fell, scraping your knee and palms in the process.

All you heard next was laughter. Mocking ones, from both the guys and— whom you thought was— your friends.

It turns out the one who bumped into you was someone you had a few problems with in the past. He was your… not enough to be a former lover, far from a friend but yet, he’s no stranger. He held a grudge against you, it seems.

The guy laughed along, as well.

It was only for a few seconds the scene unfolded, but it felt like an eternity of humiliation.

Did Tsukishima join them?

You slowly got yourself up, the burn in your knee only increasing with each inch you elevated from the ground.

Halfway through, someone grabbed your upper arm and shoulder tight, slowly helping you up. Those pale, slender arms..

Tsukishima.

Exaggerated gasps were heard, and whispers were accentuated. Honestly, you would’ve acted the same way, if you were them.

Tsukishima… helped. He didn’t make fun of you.

You heard him click his tongue, and you raised your head just enough to see the scowl on his face, and the way he glared at the guys from earlier.

“Can’t you fucking see she was next to you?” He cursed, and everyone fell silent. Everyone was always a little wary of him, even scared. His height was intimidating, but seeing him in such a way was a lot scarier.

Even you haven’t seen him this angry.

The teacher jogged over, a tense expression on his face.

“Tsukishima-kun, enough. You can go on and I’ll put her aside—“

“Don’t bother, sensei.” He quickly cut the teacher off, eyes glued to the fuckers that were too irrelevant to be in the same place as he is.

“I don’t feel like playing football with people who are clearly blind.” He snickered, almost mocking them.

He brought you under a tree, and you freed your wrist from his grasp and slumped against the tree. Your head was down low as if the skin of your legs had some ancient scripture that you were so persistent on staring at. A large shadow emerged, and turns out it was him standing in front of you with his hands on his hips, eyes ahead staring at the other students.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

“Don’t worry.” He tried to reassure, but he sounded a little too bitter— he’s not used to it. “I won’t let them see how ugly you are when you cry.”

You cried anyway.

“Know how to treat a wound?” He asked as if he wouldn’t already do it himself as he rummaged through the cabinets.

Your silence in speaking and a few sniffles are enough to tell.

He sighed, reaching for a box filled with stuff that’ll help heal your wound— only on the outside, though. It’ll only help what’s on the surface, only helping your scraped skin, but the humiliation inside? Who knows how long the tear of your heart will last? Who knows who is going to tape it up for you, saying everything will be okay?

A small part of your heart’s tear was stitched up already at the sight of him getting down on one knee in front of you, getting the band-aids, antiseptic, tweezers, and cotton wools out.

“What’s the point in hiring nurses if they’re just never going to show up to work?” He rambled on like an old grandma, complaining how he needed to do everything himself.

But really, even if the nurses were here and you were being tended to, he’ll never really leave you. He’s treating you like you needed all the help in the world as if you were in a coma or something.

The rustling of the bed sheets when you squirmed, the annoyingly strong scent of the antiseptic throughout the whole room, and Tsukishima’s rambles as he treated your wound made you… strangely emotional.

Your shoulders shook rather violently, and your gaze blurred with the salty liquid once again.

His eyes widened upon taking in your appearance, drawing the cotton wool soaked with medicine away from your wound as quickly as time allowed it.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey! Does it hurt that bad?!” He almost yelled, and did he not panic like the world was going to end.

“Okay, look— okay I’ll stop! I told you to prepare yourself beforehand—”

“Arigato, Tsukishima-kun.”

You wailed like your life had crumbled— looking back, it was kind of funny with the snot and everything, he’ll definitely tease you for that later— and you sobbed your heart away. You didn’t even cry like this when a relative died but you cried when someone insisted on treating your wound? Wow.

And Tsukishima? His face could be taken as pure gold. He was dumbfounded, with wide eyes while staring at you crying like so. In literal words, it’s best to say he malfunctioned. You were crying way harder than before, you’re crying harder now than when you fell!

You keep sucking back in the snot that threatens to goo down their way, wiping your tears rather harshly, but it kept coming down anyway. It was embarrassing, but you couldn’t stop crying.

You heard him sigh.

“You’re disgusting, Seiu.” He said, though not much disgust was evident in his voice.

You felt a soft cloth arrive on your face, the fabric particularly covering your nose. You stopped your wail and looked at him, blinking rapidly as you were confused about what he was trying to do.

“Blow it out.” He said defeatedly, sighing as he looked away.

Sprettttt!

He crunched his nose upon hearing the noise, his glasses lifted slightly in the process before settling down to its original position.

“Again.”

Sprreettttttttt!

“I kind of feel bad for Seiu.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, and so did Tsukishima.

It was that group of guys again, and the one who spoke was the one that, well… the one that bumped into you.

“You still like her?” One of his friends said, and the others fell silent.

You both were standing on the top of the stairs like a fool, like deers caught in the headlights. But the question is, why did Tsukishima stop too?!

“I don’t!” He quickly denied but the others burst out into laughter and a series of teasing ‘oooh's.

Your class was just right there. Why did they have to walk through the hallway where your class was located, when there were a dozen others? You don’t want to come across them! Your cheeks were puffy, your eyes were red. You didn’t want them to know you cried, especially not when they were the reason. (Well, partly of the reason).

“Seiu’s quite sensitive. What if she’s like.. I don’t know!” He grumbled.

“Aw, you worried that she cried? You still like her!” Another laughter erupted.

“That’s her class, isn’t it? Where is she?”

They were peeking through the windows, but of course, you’re not there, you’re hiding in the corner of the hallway like a fool.

“She’s not there.” One said, confused.

“Oi… Tsukishima’s not there either.” Some of them gasped, and some of them went silent.

“I think.. Seiu and Tsukishima—”

Tsukishima grabbed your hand, his gaze hard. He wasn’t looking at you though, but just staring into the clear windows in front of you both, as if he was waiting to get caught or.. as if he was ready to do something.

“Don’t say things like that!” The guy defensively said, his voice raising an octave. He still has feelings for you, it seems.

“But don’t you think it makes sense? They’re always together,”

They’re getting closer. Their footsteps are getting louder, and your body just tensed. Tsukishima squeezed your hand harder, and you looked at him through your sore, reddish eyes.

You wanted to get out of here, but you can’t just run to somewhere else in the building. You need to get into class, and it’s almost time. You’ll get a cleaning punishment if you’re late, and you don’t want to involve Tsukishima in any of it already. He’s done more than enough.

“—For the last time, they are not!” They were just around the corner, and their shoes came into your sight.

“I just.. I just want to apologize to Seiu and—”

Everything shut down.

Your ears were ringing, succumbing to a forced silence, your whole body refusing to react to anything else.

Your back against the wall.

His hand on your waist.

Your glasses clashing onto each other’s.

His lips on top of yours.

Tsukishima… was kissing you.

Shielding you, almost.

A loud, erratic pair of footsteps ran to the opposite side, kicking you both out to reality once again.

Then followed by a few others.

The ringing slowly subsided, and your irises moved.

Oh, they’re gone.

Your irises drifted to the ones in front of you, the pair being the most nastiest, gorgeous golden brown eyes you have ever seen.

His eyes have twinkles in them.

Don’t know if it has always been there or if you only noticed it now, but it’s pretty.

Ethereal.

The loud ring of the school bell rang, and you both flinched and covered your ears— you’re literally below one.

It snapped you back to the current situation. For real, this time.

Wide eyes, you looked at him, gasping.

A little too late to act shocked now, but oh well.

“Why did you do that?!” You yelled into his face, mouth agape. He seems just as shocked as you were, cheeks painted with crimson tints.

“Did you think I wanted to?!” He looked away, eyes frantic.

“Your germs…” He covered his lips with his hand, wiping it down gently with his palm. “Ew.” He stared at his palm blankly.

Is that a cover-up… or was he actually disgusted?

You bolted into class.

And so did he. (Well, after a few seconds of standing there like a pole).

You couldn't help but glance at him throughout the entire day, barely even focusing on what's been taught ahead of you. You kept fidgeting with whatever you could, with your fingers, sliding your feet from one place to the other and whatnot.

No matter how much you tried, your gaze would return to him.

You saw how he'd stare at you from the corners of his eyes, albeit you pretended not to notice. You noticed how he glided his fingertips over his lips, over and over. You noticed how he zoned out, just like you did.

He barely ever loses focus.

Was he thinking of the kiss, just like how you did?

You had hoped that was the case so you wouldn't be the only one who looked like a dumbstruck, confused fool. And you just prayed that he wouldn't pretend as if nothing had happened because it wasn't. It was one hell of a situation to just throw it over your heads as if it wasn't anything— you both seriously need to talk.

Without noticing, the vibrant azure skies turned orange, and the familiar tone of ringing echoed through the school's speakers, noting that it was time to return home.

You got up as slow as you could, eyeing Tsukishima who was frozen in his seat. You packed your things and shoved them into your bag, the chair screeching quietly across the floor as you stood up.

"Tsukki." Your voice knocked him back from his series of pondering, flinching upon hearing you speak. He looked at you, almost nervous.

"Yeah?"

"Time to go home." You mumbled, stating the obvious. Might as well mention that the grass is green.

He packed his bag in no rush. It was as if he was trying to slow down his moves, though his intentions remained unclear. He looked guilty almost, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"We need to talk about earlier." You blurted out, and he froze. His bent figure slowly straightened, and a long shadow of his figure emerged and decorated the walls— how did you even manage to catch that? Well, maybe because you were looking at everything but his eyes.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it." He mumbled, finally facing you. He stared down at you before looking away, scratching at the back of his head.

You took a few steps backward, sitting against the still of an opened window. The wind gushes through your air, making you shiver slightly. The heat was no joke, and the intensity of the situation only escalated it.

"How could I not?" Your voice turned quiet as you stared at the ground. "I can't just go on and pretend nothing happened." You began fiddling with your fingers.

"Why did you do it?" You whispered almost shakily.

"I don't know." He whispered back.

"Do you... like me?"

Not once did it ever cross your mind to have feelings for him, but now you knew. Now you know why at certain times you tend to be so observant of every little thing that he does. Like how beautiful his eyes look under the sunlight, how gently he turns the pages of your paper sheets as if he was afraid to leave a single crumple, how he manages to insult you every time but never goes too far to actually hurt your feelings—

Now you knew.

The pounding of your heart was because of him. The very presence of him around you calms you down like after a storm and yet manages to roar it wildly and harder than ever.

You, Seiu, have fallen for him.

Your question was left hanging with no audible answer that left his mouth. Silence.

Something bottled up inside you and it was going to explode.

"I can't believe you." You snarled and gripped the metal still of the window. "Is kissing a random girl in the name of helping just so normal to you? Is that how you help? Without even considering how she feels— how I feel?"

"Seiu—"

"For you, it might not be anything important," You sniffled, tears rolling down. You lost count of how many times you cried. "But it is important, for me—"

Your breath hitched when his lips landed on yours again.

Damn, at least let me finish. You thought.

His fingers crept onto your cheeks, cradling them ever so gently. His thumb wiped away the tears wetting your skin. He tilted his head to get a better angle and his kiss got softer by each second.

"Can't you at least kiss me back?" He mumbled against your lips, eyes still closed as if he was afraid to see your reaction.

You finally closed your eyes, moving your lips again his own by following an unknown flow. The second he got a response from you, his other hand pulled you in closer by your waist, pressing your bodies together. The sudden touch combined with the wind that attacked your back made you shiver. His hand moved and pressed onto your back, rubbing up and down to soothe you.

You let out a shaky breath through your nose, and the wave of relief and pleasure spread throughout your body into every vein and muscle. Your hands found their way linked at the back of his head in which you daringly pulled him closer.

You couldn't get enough. Kiss after kiss, breath after breath, you caught his lips again once you both sucked in a breath to continue. His glasses kept clashing with yours with every movement, and he attempted to take it off.

"It's okay, leave them on." You mumbled and took his hand away. You love his square glasses. You'd never want him to take it off.

He only smirked against your lips, the adorable sharp fang of his showing. "You didn't even let me finish earlier, and now you just can't stop, can't you?" He sighed and pressed his lips to yours again.

"And yeah, I like you, Seiu."

#—lunexrin #tsukishima kei #slow burn #shoujo #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n

209 notes · View notes