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pucksandpower · 8 months

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The Girlfriend Test

Lando Norris x girlfriend!Reader

Summary: no new LN merch is deemed ready for sale unless it passes the girlfriend test (or in which you are Lando’s favorite hoodie thief and the sight of another driver’s brand on you drives him just a little bit crazy)

You hear the front door open and close, followed by the sounds of Lando rummaging around in the entryway. “Babe, I’m home!” He calls out.

You’re curled up on the couch in his latest hoodie design, a soft charcoal grey number with black sleeves and his LN logo embroidered over the heart.

“In here!” You reply. Lando comes into the living room and smiles when he sees you wearing his new creation.

“Well hello there, hoodie thief,” he says, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the lips before flopping down on the couch next to you. “So I see you found my newest sample.”

You grin and snuggle further into the super soft fleece. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my hoodie now.”

Lando laughs and tugs lightly on the hood. “Oh is it now? I could’ve sworn this was a prototype I brought home from my design meeting a few days ago.”

“Nope, definitely mine,” you say cheekily. “It’s so cozy I don’t think I can ever take it off.”

“In that case, I guess it passes the girlfriend test with flying colors,” Lando declares. At your confused look, he elaborates. “Oh, I never told you about the girlfriend test? I can’t launch a new LN design until you have stolen it out of my closet. That’s how I know for sure it’s comfy enough for my fans.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re telling me every hoodie so far has passed this supposed test?”

“You got it,” Lando grins. “I’ll leave the samples laying around and if you end up snagging one and wearing it all the time, I know it’s prime merchandise.”

You think back and realize it’s true — Lando’s hoodies have a habit of migrating into your wardrobe. The papaya one is your go-to for grocery store runs. The tie-dye version is your favorite for lazy Sundays. Even the bold purple hoodie he released last month has already earned a permanent place on your desk chair.

“So you mean to tell me this was all part of your master plan?” You ask in mock offense. “And here I thought I was sneakily stealing your comfiest clothes.”

“Baby, if I really didn’t want you wearing my stuff, I wouldn’t make it so tempting to take,” Lando says sincerely, wrapping an arm around you. “But it makes me so happy to see you in my designs, wearing my brand.”

You cuddle into his shoulder. “That’s really sweet, babe.”

“Anything for my number one fan and favorite hoodie model,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

You snuggle together in contented silence for a few minutes, your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“So, how was the simulator today?” You ask. “Get some good practice in for Monza this weekend?”

Lando nods. “Yeah, had a really solid session. Tweaked a few things with the setup that I think will help with the low downforce.”

“Nice,” you say. “Maybe another podium this week?”

“We’ll see,” Lando replies. “Ferrari looked quick in Spa so it could be tough. But I feel good going into the weekend.”

“Well, I know you’ll kill it babe,” you say supportively. Lando smiles gratefully and pulls you closer.

“But anyway, enough about F1. How was your day off?” He asks.

You launch into a recap of your relaxed day — sleeping in, catching up on chores, and working on some creative projects you’ve had on the backburner. Lando listens intently, asking questions and commenting on the new songs and recipes you’re dying to try. The conversation flows easily, as it always does between you two.

Before you know it, Lando’s stomach rumbles loudly and you both crack up. “I guess that means it’s dinnertime,” you say, checking your phone. “Pizza sound good?”

“You read my mind,” Lando replies. While you call in the usual order from your favorite local pizza joint, Lando queues up Netflix and scrolls through options for tonight’s viewing.

Thirty minutes later you’re back on the couch, the coffee table littered with pizza boxes and cans of soda. Lando hits play on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and you settle in, toes tucked under his legs to stay cozy.

You’re only halfway through the episode when you feel Lando’s gaze on you. You turn and find him staring at you wearing his newest hoodie creation, a small smile on his lips.

“What’s that look for?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza.

Lando shakes his head, the smile growing wider. “Nothing really. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilt your head curiously and he continues. “I have my dream job, getting to race cars for a living. And then I come home to you and … I don’t know. It just feels really good. Like everything is kind of falling into place.”

You set down your pizza slice and cuddle up to him. “Aww babe. That’s so sweet.” You give him a greasy kiss on the cheek. “I’m the lucky one you know. I get to see you living your dream every day. And then I get to be here to celebrate the wins with you and cheer you up after the tough days. It’s pretty amazing.”

Lando wraps both arms around you in a hug. “Love you so much,” he says softly.

“Love you more,” you whisper back, your head tucked perfectly under his chin once again.

***

The next evening, you’re sprawled across the bed browsing on your phone when you hear Lando come home.

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out in a sing-song voice. You grin, expecting him to come give you a kiss. But instead you hear his footsteps stop abruptly.

“Babe, what … is that?” Lando asks slowly.

You look up confused. “What do you mea-”

Then you spot what he’s staring at in horror: the soft teal hoodie you’re wearing with an embroidered Enchanté logo across the front.

“Oh this?” You say casually. “It’s from Daniel’s new merch drop. The fleece is so soft, I couldn’t resist snagging one.”

Lando’s jaw drops open. “You … you bought a hoodie? From a competing merch brand?”

You stifle a laugh at how seriously Lando is taking this. “Well yeah, you gotta support your friends right? And I told you how comfy it looked in his posts.”

Lando just blinks slowly, looking utterly betrayed. You almost feel bad for riling him up.

“Babe, come on, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m your number one fan.” You get up and go to hug him, but Lando dodges you.

“Nope. No hugs until that … that enemy hoodie comes off,” he says dramatically.

Now you really have to hold back your laughter. “Lando, don’t be silly.”

But he crosses his arms and sticks his chin up. “I’m dead serious, Y/N. My own girlfriend, wearing another man’s merch!” He shakes his head in despair.

You bite your lip, trying not to smile at his antics. Time to have some more fun with this.

“Well if you’re going to be like that, maybe I’ll just keep it on,” you say nonchalantly, snuggling back into the ridiculously soft fleece.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”

You raise your eyebrows challengingly. “Try me.”

You stare each other down for a few tense moments, before Lando huffs loudly.

“Fine then. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” And with that ominous statement, he lunges forward and lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Lando!” You shriek through laughter. “Put me down!”

But he marches down the hall determinedly, you still slung over his shoulder. He brings you into the living room and gently tosses you onto the couch. Before you can react, he rips the Enchanté hoodie up over your head in one swift move.

“Lando!” You squeal, trying to reach for the hoodie, but he’s quicker. In a flash, he has the offending article of clothing in his grip.

“How could you bring this … this enemy propaganda into our home?” Lando accuses dramatically. He holds the hoodie between two fingers like it’s contaminated.

You have to press a hand over your mouth to contain your giggles. Lando looks utterly scandalized at the sight of you in his rival’s merch.

“I’m sorry babe, but you left me no choice,” Lando says solemnly. And with that, he crosses the room, opens the fireplace, and tosses the hoodie in.

You gasp loudly. “Lando Norris, did you just burn my hoodie?”

“I had to protect the sanctity of this home! Can’t have you falling for another man’s branding,” Lando exclaims. But you can see his facade cracking as he fights back a smile of his own.

You get up from the couch and poke him in the chest. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Maybe. But you love me.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight back your own smile. “Debatable at the moment,” you joke.

Lando pouts and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Come onnnn, you know I’m your favorite driver.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Hmm well Daniel does give the best hugs ...”

“Hey!” Lando exclaims and tackles you into a bear hug. You dissolve into giggles as he squeezes you tight and sways you back and forth.

“Nope, absolutely not allowed,” he declares, still holding you captive.

You lean back to look up at him with a smile. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re my girl and I don’t share,” Lando states matter-of-factly. His eyes are soft now as he gazes down at you.

You feel your heart melt a little. You stand on your tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss. “You’re right, I’m all yours Lando.”

His answering smile is dazzling. But then a thought seems to occur to him and a grin spreads across his face.

In one smooth motion, he strips off the neon green hoodie he’s wearing, leaving just a black t-shirt underneath. Before you can react, he pulls it down over your head, enveloping you in soft fleece that smells like him.

“There. That’s better,” Lando declares satisfied.

You snuggle happily into Lando’s worn hoodie, his warmth still lingering in the fabric. Looking down, you recognize it as the exclusive design he wore constantly last season.

Lando’s eyes crease with happiness as he looks at you swimming in his hoodie. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, pulling you close again.

You nuzzle into his chest, perfectly content.

“Am I forgiven for my momentary lapse in loyalty?” You ask cheekily, peering up at him.

Lando pretends to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm, I guess I can let it slide this one time,” he teases back. “But only because you look so damn cute in my clothes.”

You smile and tighten your arms around him. You sway together slowly, Lando humming tunelessly under his breath. The fireplace crackles gently beside you.

After a few moments, Lando speaks again, his voice quiet. “You know I was only joking around before, right? You can wear whatever you want babe.”

You lean back to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are warm but serious now.

You touch his cheek softly. “Of course I know that Lando. Your hoodies might be the comfiest, but they’re not the only clothes I own.”

Lando nods, looking relieved that you understand. “I just never want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your own style or interests.” His voice is earnest. “I want you to always feel free to be yourself.”

Your heart swells at his words. You reach up and kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, Lando is smiling again.

“Thanks babe,” you say. “That really means a lot to me. And same to you, obviously.”

Lando grins. “Of course, it’s you and me against the world! Oh, and McLaren against the other teams,” he adds cheekily.

You laugh and snuggle back into his chest. “Yes, McLaren over all,” you agree, just to make him happy.

“That’s my girl,” Lando says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

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oreo-creampie · 9 months

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𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐝

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff comfort fic, reader is stress and crying for reasons you decide, established relationships, holding you close, being sweet on you, they are all so soft wanting to help you feel better or at least less alone while upset, confession, toji is a bit rough but trying his best

Oreo: in case anyone else is also crying and needs to be held. Yeah I'm sticking with Satoru is sugar bear cause he is cuddly like bear and he likes sugar, Toji is Teddy Bear because obviously he is. Matching nicknames for my favorite two

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You’re sniffling, looking down and holding yourself tightly when you shuffle out of the hallway. It doesn’t matter. Satoru six eyes could see your tearful eyes, quivering bottom lip and your nails digging into the soft fabric of his sweater.

You’re desperately trying to hold yourself together about to crack into another flood of tears at any second. “Hold me.” Your voice breaking.

Satoru’s chest is tightening, his heart dropping into his stomach. Holding his arms open for you, closing the space in two long strides. He wraps his arms around you when a harsh sob wrecks your fragile body.

He lifts you off your feet prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Cry and take deep breaths sweetheart I’m here for you.” Your tears are soaking through his white shirt.

You lift your head up, studying the tear stains and smear of mascara. “’m sorry ‘m messing up your shirt.”

He gently kisses the side of your head. “Mess it up, or I can take it off. You can lay your head on my bare chest and listen to my heart beating for you.” You sniffle and look up at him, your beautiful eyes are bloodshot.

“Please take it off sugarbear.” Satoru walks past his bed into the bathroom. He turns on the light then grabs a tissue holding it to your nose for you to blow, tossing it in the trash.

Satoru opens your makeup wipes to slip one out. “Anything for you honeybun.” You close your eyes. He’s careful when wiping your eyes and lashes clean, giving you two kisses. Cleaning your cheeks and forehead of foundation you get three more kisses.

He slides the wipe down your nose giving you one more soft, loving kiss. A smile tugs on your lips when he kisses the tip of your nose. “You’re smile is beautiful makes my day brighter, you’re the sunrise that makes my day.” He throws the wipe away and carries you out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him.

Your eyes widen, “I love you!” You bury your face in his neck and squeeze him tighter like he might vanish.

Satoru’s heart skips a beat. “Look at me sweetheart.” He smiles when you lift your head. “I’m deeply in love with you too.”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Toji crouches next to the bed, pulling back the covers. Your tears are trickling sideways, soaking into the pillow. “Cuddle me, please Toji I need to be held.” He frowns and you look away, tugging the covers back over your head.

Toji finds crying irritating, taught to suck it up he grew up expecting that of others. But seeing you recoil from him dissolves any anger. You deserve to feel your emotions, to cry, and to have him hold you.

He will have to learn how to comfort you and become the man you deserve.

Toji stands up to slip his sweater off. He grabs the blanket slowly pulling it off of you. “Ya wearing my sweater 'cause it reminded ya of me right? This smells like me, I took a shower at a shitty motel before coming home, wanted to smell good fer ya.” You sit up and slip his sweater off, tossing it onto the floor.

He bunches up the sweater and you rise your arms up for Toji to slip his sweater into you. “We can cuddle, I'll be ya like one of ya Teddy bears.” You scoot over giving Toji room to slip into bed. He flips over your pillow, hiding the side soaked with tears.

There is a small smile tugging on your lips. "Teddybear is a good nickname for you." He rolls his eyes climbing into bed, you sit to the side letting him get comfortable. Toji's large body takes up most of the bed.

He's sitting up, pouting, mulling over your new nickname. A darkening blush spreads across his cheeks. You climb onto his lap, "You're big and strong like a bear, and you're going all soft on me. Cuddling you is like cuddling up to those oversized teddy bears you see around valentine's day." He sighs, glancing down at you to see that soft smile spreading.

"I'll let you get away with it 'cause ya cute." He leans down kissing your forehead, wrapping his arm around you.

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

"Meh!" It's a short squeaky chirp of a meow behind your head. A rumbling purr follows as a soft warm fuzzy kitten walks onto your head. Gently pressing its soft beans into your face, their purr gets louder as they delightfully use your cheek to make biscuits.

Another cat comes clawing up the side of the bed. "Meeeehhh." A fluffy brown cat with bright blue eyes announces themself with a loud, chirpy scream "You were upset so I canceled with Toru wanted to surprise you. I saw these two on the side of the road n' couldn't leave them." He sits down on the bed next to you.

He grabs the proudly purring kitten off of your face for you to sit up. "They-they are sooo cuteee. Are we keeping them?" There is shining hope replacing the dull sadness tainting your beautiful eyes.

Suguru's heart aches to see your wet cheeks with tears and bloodshot eyes. "They are our babies now, no one is taking them from us. We can hide them for two weeks until we move into our new place together." He gently sets the small fluffy orange cat on your lap next to the chocolate one. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, holding you close.

The orange one tackles the other, lightly biting their ear. The chocolate kitten gets on its back and delivers bunny blows to the orange one's gut. Which pushes the smaller kitten off.

In surrender the fluffy orange kitten rolls over to show their soft white belly. Pushing their fluffy paws into the air. You sniffle and get on Suguru's lap, he spreads his legs for you to sit between.

"I still need to be held." Suguru carefully wipes your face dry with the baggy sleeves of his sweater.

"Won't let you go till you feel better. I'm sorry you're feeling this way darling. We can get through it together. I'm always here for you whenever you need me." He kisses the top and side of your head, trailing several more kisses down your cheek.

His kiss is tender, loving, and salty from your tears. "When you get hungry," kissing your cheek, "we can grab a bite to eat then become some criminals together by sneaking in stuff for our new babies"

oreo creampie m.list

Part two; Kento, Sukuna, Choso & Shoko

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n0thingbutlov3 · 3 months

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need you now

in which a impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds

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whitexwolfxx310 · 4 months

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|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level.

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, oral sex (both ways!!), edging?, masturbation (F), praise kink, cursing, light stalking, breaking in, harassing texts/calls, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 4.3

A/Ns: Hi babes! This was going to be a short story but she came out kinda long, so I'm going to make it a 2 parter. Don't judge me 🙈 I looove masked men. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. This is also my first time getting more explicit with smut so don't judge me too harshly! xoxo

Snuggled up to Bucky under a comfy blanket with a bowl of extra buttery and salty popcorn, lights turned all the way down, you finally convinced him to watch the movie Scream. While you’ve seen it many times before and are aware of all the jump scares, you still cling onto him a little extra tight in preparation while he is completely unphased. About halfway through the movie, you hear Bucky snort.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him slightly. His face is illuminated by the glow of the tv.

“Something you want to tell me, Doll?” One side of his mouth is tugged up in amusement.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, you sit up to look at him.

He just shakes his head, grinning, “I’m talking about how every time a masked man comes on that screen,” he points to the tv, “you press those pretty little thighs of yours together.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, “You noticed that?”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to my girl.” Bucky leans back more, resting his arm on top of the couch still grinning, “Tell me about it.” His eyes narrow slightly, something a bit darker lurking, intrigued by this knowledge.

“I don’t know… it’s just like,” you brush your hair behind your ears suddenly feeling embarrassed, “kind of like a kink? A fantasy maybe? There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it I guess?”

By the time you’re done explaining, your hands unknowingly gripped and crossed your chest. Blinking rapidly, you let go and focus back on Bucky who is just watching you intensely.

He nods and purses his lips lightly, “Maybe if I keep watching this movie, I’ll want a masked man for myself,” He teases.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You grab a fistful of popcorn and throw it at him, sending you both into a laughing frenzy.

"You're cleaning that up, not me." Bucky laughs.

Him and his messes.

He scoops you in close to his body to finish the movie, and later that night he showed you that no masked man from a movie could ever compare to him.

Three weeks later.

While trying to grab your phone and keys out of your bag, you accidentally drop the stack of mail you had just picked up from the landlord’s office on the doormat.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself. Bending down to pick it up, something catches your eye. Your apartment door is cracked open.

You stand up, discarding the mail and push open the door, “Hello?” You call out, “Bucky?” There’s no response.

Taking a few steps in, nothing looks out of place or any evidence that someone seems to have broken in. You start going through each room, keeping your phone firmly in your hand just in case. But there’s nothing. Walking out of the bedroom you decide you’re going to call Bucky to see how far away he is since he was on his way over, when you find him standing in the kitchen.

“OH! Fuck me-” You jump at the sight of him and grab your chest.

“Hey, Doll!” Bucky says, like the perfect golden retriever boyfriend that he is.

“Did you just get here?” You ask, your heart still pounding.

“Yeah, why?” he asks curiously, absentmindedly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl off the kitchen counter and taking a bite.

“Um, yeah me too. It’s just-”

“Just… what?” He takes another bite.

“It’s just that... my door was open when I got here?”

“What?” Bucky’s face instantly changes, his eyes wide and anxious, “Go wait in the hallway until I look around.”

“I already did that-”

“Please?” He pleads as he throws out his barely eaten apple, already coaxing you towards the door.

Crossing your arms, you go and wait in the hallway while he looks around. After a few minutes he brings you back in.

“Everything looks to be fine, but I’m going to stay the night just in case.” You breathe a sigh of relief at Bucky’s words.

“Maybe maintenance came in and forgot to lock back up. I was having all those issues with my heater a few months ago,” You try justifying.

“Yeah maybe,” he says, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

About a week later is when the phone calls started.

Initially it was just 1 or 2 a day from a restricted number that you never picked up, assuming it was some kind of solicitation about your car’s extended warranty. But no voicemail was ever left.

As a few weeks went by though, it started to feel like borderline harassment. The number of phone calls jumped to an average of twenty times a day.

Sitting at your work desk your phone continued to violently vibrate, the words Unknown Caller lit up on the screen. You ran your hands through your hair, letting them linger on your scalp, starting to feel stressed every time your phone rang.

"Hey babes!" Hailee, your coworker/bff storms unannounced into your office, "You ready to grab some lu- oh my god. Are they calling you right now?" Obviously aware of the situation, she scurries around your desk in her too high heels and answers your phone. Clearing her throat, "Hi, thank you for calling Tammy's Whorehouse where we suck and fuck. How can I help you?" She taps an inpatient finger on her hip, waiting for a response and then the line goes dead.

Your hands fall down into your lap with an exacerbated breath, "No one ever answers."

"Have you tried tracking the number?" She puts the phone down and sits on top of your desk.

"I've tried calling my cell service, they can't do anything about it. If it keeps up, I just might change my number." You shake your head, "This is going to sound so dumb, but it has me so distracted. Apparently, I've been forgetting to charge my phone at night too? I swear I put it on the charger but then it dies in the night and that's why I've been late to work a few times."

Hailee tilts her head to the side, giving a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, girl. Hey!" She tries perking up, "Why don't we go get lunch and iced coffees? My treat?!" Her bright smile and shimmying shoulders get you to crack a smile. Jumping off your desk she claps her hands, "Yay!"

Suddenly there's a knock at your office door. Both of you stop the mini-iced coffee celebration and snap your attention to the nervous, uniformed teenager standing in the doorway.

"Delivery." he says shyly, looking between the two of you.

Hailee raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking you up and down, "Well, it wasn't delivered to my office."

You roll your eyes as you get up, smoothing your skirt down. Walking up to the boy, he quickly hands you a rather large bouquet of flowers. The intoxicating floral aroma hits you almost immediately, you cannot help but be astounded by the arrangement. Each individual flower is rather large, some darker than others; Ombres of red and burgundy into black.

"They're beautiful," You admire, inhaling deeply. "I don't think I've ever seen these before. Do you know what kind of flowers they are?" You ask the teen curiously.

"Black dahlia's," he recalled, and your stomach felt like it dropped with the mention of the name. "I don't think we've ever gotten a request for those at my family's shop before. That's the only reason I remember," he shrugged.

"Does Bucky have a brother? Because like, are you kidding me right now?" You glanced at Hailee who was making an over-the-top pouty face.

Asking the teen if he had CashApp to tip him, you quickly ushered him off. Searching through the flowers to see if there was a card or any indication that they were in fact from Bucky, but there wasn't.

That night, Bucky came over for dinner. He brought take out from a local Greek place that he really liked, but you were distracted. Just pushing the food around on your plate.

"You okay, doll?" His forehead puckered slightly in question.

"Yeah, um," You shake your head to try and focus, "Hey, thanks for the flowers today. That was super sweet and unexpected," considering you've been kinda stressed.

"Flowers? What flowers?" Bucky's posture stiffens.

"I got flowers delivered to me at work today, I just assumed it... was from you? Maybe it was a mistake then." There were suddenly mixed emotions being stirred around in a frenzy. If Bucky wasn't the one who sent the flowers, then who did? You tried saying they were dropped in your office by accident, but it just didn't feel right. It felt intentional.

"Well, honey, I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me." Bucky stands up from the kitchen table, grabbing his dinner plate. "Are you done?" He asks gesturing to your plate. You nod and he takes it as well, "But it's something I should do, and I'll be more conscious of it. I'm sorry,"

"No, Buck I wasn't-"

His lips press to the top of your head, "No, you're right. If anyone should be doing it, it should be me. Let me take the garbage out for you and we'll have the night to ourselves, yeah? Anything you want."

"Anything?" You repeat, in singsong with a grin.

He shakes his head, scraping the scraps from the plates into the garbage returning the grin, "I like where this is going," Tying off the bag, he holds up two fingers, "give me two minutes," he opens the door to the apartment and starts jogging down the hallway, "two minutes!!" you hear him call out.

The door to the apartment doesn't even fully shut before you hear the familiar buzz coming from your bag. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you angrily push away from the table and stomp over to the counter, dumping out your purse just to see Unknown Caller lit up on your phone.

You hit the green button so hard it doesn't register, so you do it again until it answers, "Hello?! What the FUCK do you want?!" No answer. But this time, you can hear someone breathing heavily. "You need some help. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone!" Hanging up, you slam the phone down onto the counter.

"Doll?" Bucky asks from the doorway, he sighs, "Was it that number bothering you again?"

"Yes!" You answer, flustered. "The next step is to just- change my number! I don't know what else to do."

Bucky steps in, closing in the door behind him with the back of his boot. His lips are pressed in tight line, "C'mere, darlin'," he holds his arms wide open, eyes soft. Dragging your feet, you meet him halfway and lay your head on his chest, "It's gonna be okay," he coos in your ear. "It's just some asshole with nothing better to do. They'll get bored soon enough. Worst case, we'll change your number. We can even go down to the store tomorrow and get you a new phone?" Bucky offers, trying to be optimistic as he caresses your arms up and down.

"I was just really hoping it wouldn't get to that point." You admit, pulling away from his chest just enough to look up at him.

"We'll do what we have to." Bucky smiles, cupping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his lips to yours.

Letting your lips linger a moment as your eyes close, you inhale deeply, taking in the cypress scented soap still lingering on his skin from a shower he took earlier. It's your favorite. Hence why you keep buying it every time he runs out. Bucky's lips separate yours, and when just the tips of your tongues connect, a barely audible whimper escapes your mouth.

Like a gun starting a marathon, it was all Bucky needed to hear. Reaching down and gripping behind your thighs, he hoists you up. With a delighted squeak, you wrap your legs around his torso, laughing but keeping your lips on his as your hands run through his short hair. Using one hand flat against your lower back to keep you pressed into his chest, Bucky's other hand firmly grasped your ass. His fingers purposefully grazing the inseam of your jeans between your legs as he walked towards the bedroom.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you both upright. You break the mashing of tongues to re-adjust your position and straddle him. Leaning in, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth graze just a tiny bit before letting go. Bucky exhales a drawn out, low groan before licking his lips. The look in his eyes is absolutely carnal as he tugs your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Not even bothering with your bra, he just pulls the black lace cups down beneath your breasts, propping them up in exposure as he dips down to flick his tongue across your nipple.

Initially it makes you shudder, but as he continues to suck, nibble, lick, repeat, you find reprieve in grinding your hips down into the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Bucky lets out a stifled groan before switching his mouth to your other nipple. You smirk to yourself; you just love to tease this man. Although, if we're being honest, this isn't so easy on you right now either.

Roughly gripping both sides of his face, you bring his lips back to yours. You’re starting to feel needy for more of his touch. Becoming desperate to relieve this fuel lit fire. Bucky’s hands were firmly placed on each of your ass cheeks, assisting your already rolling hips forward and back. He snakes one hand between your bodies, slipping it down the front of your pants, his finger sliding once between your slit. You both moan loudly in unison into the kiss.

"Fuuuck..." Bucky breathed, tilting his head back just slightly that your lips pull apart. "You're already so fucking wet for me," his lascivious eyes lock onto yours, his breathing already becoming rather ragged.

Hearing his debauched voice, knowing just that single glide of his finger has him aching so badly, has ignited a new spark in you. "It's all yours, baby," you purred. Biting the bottom corner of your lip, you slowly get off his lap. Hooking each of your pointer fingers into the front pockets of Bucky's jeans, you encourage him to stand up as you drop to your knees before him.

As he's fumbling with the button and zipper, you stare up at him with tantalizing eyes, your hands firmly grazing along his muscular thighs. Once he's able to get it open, you help start to shimmy down his jeans and boxer briefs passed his hips until they pool on the floor. Bucky's thick, long cock springs up at almost eye level in enthusiasm, instantly making your mouth water. Sticking your tongue out as far as you possibly can, you lock eyes with Bucky and press the tip to your tongue, dragging it to a flick.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, his body quivered at the first contact. You smile as you taste the initial saltiness on your tongue, licking your lips before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him into your mouth. Bucky exhales deeply, his head starting to tilt back but he stops, making sure he maintains eye contact with you. You draw back, pressing your tongue upward firmly, go forward, and go back again. After a moment, a rhythm gets going, you now move your tongue side to side as you bob front to back, sucking harder.

"That's it," Bucky coaxes, "That's my good fucking girl," a small whimper escapes your throat at his words of praise. You clamp your legs together a little tighter as it's getting harder to ignore the incessant throbbing and growing wet spot between your legs.

The next thing you know, his hands are in your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail. Grasping his shaft with your hand steadily, you use that to guide your mouth, twisting and gliding easily. You know it's his weakness. Bucky's hips start to buck up into your mouth as he pulls your head down further onto his throbbing cock. Through now teary eyes you’re determined to watch as his face starts to contort with pleasure, his moans music to your ears just as your gagging is to him.

"You look...Ahh...so...fucking...pretty," Each word comes out with a drive of his hips into your mouth. In the dim lighting of the room, completely blissed out on pleasure, he looks like a fucking god. And he's mine. The thought alone is enough to make you explode. "Ugh!" Bucky growls, "I can't take it anymore! C'mere!" With a small 'pop', he pulls out and grabs underneath your arms and tosses you onto the bed.

Giggling, you wipe the excess saliva off your swollen, red lips as you push back further onto the bed. Bucky pulls your jeans and panties down and off in one swift motion before kneeling onto the bed. His eyes are glazed over, solely focused on between your legs. He crawls upward, and it's purely feline as he dips down, his mouth creating a seal and sucking once.

The combination of a loud moan and gasp get ripped straight from your lungs as you practically convulsed off the bed from being so aroused. Bucky quickly and securely locks your thighs in place to keep them open and from you going anywhere. He grinned, watching every single movement.

"Eyes on me, princess," he ordered. Pressing down on your lips, you nodded in anticipation. Leaning in, Bucky skimmed his lips on your very inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss that made your entire abdomen tense.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Fuck," Bucky sits back up on his knees, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans that was still around his ankles. "Hello?" You stare up at him in complete disbelief, "What, now?" He looks down at you on the bed, giving a sympathetic look and mouths 'sorry'. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he drags a hand down his face. "Yeah... yeah. No- I understand... Okay. Yep. I'll be there. Bye." He hangs up the phone.

"Don't say it," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your legs.

Bucky takes a deep breath, "I have to go back, a mission came up."

"Annnd, you said it," you look up at the ceiling, refusing to keep that eye contact that you were so adamant on not even a minute ago.

"It sounded pretty important, Doll." Bucky is off the bed, pulling up his pants and re-adjusting himself in them.

"It always is," you mutter under your breath. Sighing, you just accepted the fact that your night is completely ruined. "So, what you're telling me is, that I'm getting cock blocked by The Avengers?"

Bucky sits on the bed, placing a delicate hand on your cheek, "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you tenfold, promise." He kisses you softly, "I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I love you," He offers a small smile.

You sigh, knowing you can never let him leave on bad terms, "I love you too, Buck." Sitting up you give him a hug and a few extra kisses that probably made him late.

Still sitting in bed after Bucky had gone, you felt irrationally irritated by how he left. Tapping on your thighs, a headache was already brewing from the pent-up sexual tension that you were unable to get out. That's when you suddenly remembered a little something on your phone that might just help you out in this situation. There was this one particular time you and Bucky decided to record yourselves having sex, and you've never went back and watched it. If there was ever a time to go back and do so...

Excitedly, you go over to the dresser. You pull open your underwear drawer and dig through all the way to the back, where you stash your favorite vibrator. You click the silicone button a few times to make sure it's charged, and all the intensity settings worked before laughing menacingly to yourself and closing the drawer. Tossing the toy onto the bed, you walk out to the kitchen.

Your phone was where you had left it earlier, still slammed face down on the counter. Sashaying over, you notice that there's an applecore sitting next to it. This is odd, because you didn't have one and Bucky is normally very meticulous when it comes to cleaning and picking up after himself. Going to throw it out, you realize there is no garbage bag in the trash can and suddenly it makes sense. Bucky was in a rush to leave; he probably didn't have the time to replace the bag. So, you do it yourself, and throw out the eaten fruit.

Getting back to your room with your phone, you notice that your underwear drawer is open. Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you look from the bed, to the dresser, back to the bed. I could have sworn I closed that. Then again, maybe it's just the headache coming on. You close the dresser drawer, and all too eagerly jump under the covers.

The ambiance for a little 'self-love' right now is almost too perfect. Your bedroom is dimly lit with only a mood lamp and the fog covered streetlamps from down below your apartment. The light patter of rain hit against your bedroom window and fire escape underneath it, while some light thunder rolled some distance away.

Scrolling through your phone, it wasn't hard to find exactly what you were looking for. Pressing 'play', you're watching a side view of you taking Bucky from the back. Your mouth drops open slightly, seeing it from a third person view. Bucky has his Vibranium hand on the side of your face, pushing you down further into the mattress and he is just relentless. And the sounds, God the sounds. You grab the vibrator, turning it on and quickly placing it onto your already sensitive and swollen clit and start rubbing it and soft circles.

"Look at how good you take it,"

"Oh, God!"

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Mhm,"

"I can't hear you, princess,"

"Can I come Bucky? Please, please let me..."

"Of course, my good girl can come. Here... lean down more...open those legs wider...touch yourself...yeah...fuck, yeah...just like that baby,"

The bed is practically shattering underneath you as Bucky, who isn't even there, coaxes you into having an orgasm with yourself. You rub the vibrator more intensely, knowing you’re about to come hard from the pent-up tension this evening. The lights surge briefly in the apartment from the passing storm, just as your head presses down further against the pillows and the ripples of pleasure aggressively take over your body.

The lights go out momentarily, and that's when you see the silhouette of a tall, dark hooded figure standing on your fire escape looking into your window.

The lights come back on a second later and you’re panting. Both from the release and from what you saw. The cognizance hits you that you just came in front of a total stranger. Oh, and maybe that I might have a stalker.

The cops came, looked around, made you feel like an idiot, took a report, and left. Not feeling comfortable staying in the apartment for the night, you called Hailee, who offered up her spare bedroom.

Sitting across from you with her legs crossed on the couch, her hair in a bonnet, a glass of wine, and blue raspberry vape, she leaned in, listening intently to the details leading up to this moment.

“Soo… you know I’m gonna ask,” she starts.

You sigh, “I don’t know when I’m going to tell Bucky. I always feel so guilty when he’s away and something happens.”

Hailee’s face scrunches as she waves her hand in dismissal, “No, no not that,” You raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Can I see it?” She lowers her voice, but it’s oozing with hope.

“Bitch,” both your eyebrows raise in aghast, realizing what she’s actually asking.

“What?! Come onnnn,” She whines, pressing her hands together in plead and pouts her lip.

“Oh my god, Hailee! No! Just… no.”

Rolling her eyes she composes herself again, “Okay, so like, you ever just… look at a man, and you just know?” Her hands wave around as she’s trying to explain, “Like, that man can fuck? I feel like that’s Bucky. And so…” Hailee looks so determined right now, “s-shame on you!” She points directly at you, this is comical, “for not sharing the video evidence! Because now I’m convinced you have a boring, vanilla sex life!”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter sipping your glass of water, you hear yourself coming down from the highs of ecstasy through your phone. Hailee’s wide eyes are glued, mouth dropped open, speechless, for once. The sound finally cuts off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother because-”

You quickly snatch the phone out of her hand, “Okay, you got what you wanted. Can we be serious now?!”

“Yeah,” Hailee shakes her head, “yeah, of course…” she takes a deep breath, “I’m just saying, you seriously have some career options if your current job doesn’t work out though.”

“Hailee!!”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Her hands go up in a surrender, “but you put in a police report, and I mean, of course you can stay here. What else are you going to do?”

*Ding*

“Hang on, I just got a text.”

“Who the fuck would be texting you this late?” Hailee asks, getting off the couch to read the text with you over your shoulder.

Together you read the message:

Part 2

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

1K notes · View notes

g0dlyunsub · 3 months

Text

warm you.

spencer finds you in a state of hypothermia while the both of you are on a case, and he quickly works to warm you up.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: mentions of cryochambers and torture, hypothermia symptoms, weapons, gunshot wounds, partial nudity, scars, general cm themes

word count :: 2.8k

author’s note :: while this isn’t much different from my other sfw fics, i want to be safe and say that this is 18+!

accompanying song :: warm you by matty and mandaworld

“we’re closest to the address. we’ll head there first.”

“be careful,” you hear hotch’s voice through the speaker, crisp with a hint of concern.

out of the corner of your eye, you see spencer nod and cut the phone call. he instructs you to speed up, so you grip the steering wheel, press down on the accelerator as hard as you can, and turn on the sirens.

“take a left,” he tells you, and you swerve the car. you blurt out a warning as the wheels swivel, and spencer places a hand against the dashboard for support. before you can apologize, spencer points at the house at the far corner of the street.

“right here!” he calls out, and you quickly maneuver the car to come to a halt. you park the car in front of the driveway and unlock your seatbelt before stepping out of the vehicle with your hand positioned on your holster.

the house is a lot bigger than you thought, four floors altogether. this is where the unsub was keeping a cryochamber to torture his victims?

“should we wait for backup?” spencer asks as his eyes roam the exterior of the massive building, and you stop to do the same. the both of you already know the answer. a girl’s life is on the line, and the unsub could claim her last breath at any second.

spencer nods at you as he knows what your silence entails. you offer a nod back, then move to retrieve your gun and motion towards the front door. you test the doorknob, and to your surprise, it’s unlocked.

with a heavy inhale to prepare yourself, you jerk open the door and shuffle in, spencer following right behind you.

“daniel miller, fbi!” the two of you simultaneously call out, and you silence your steps to hear for any indicators of the unsub’s presence.

after checking the living room and kitchen, you move to the staircase. you point downwards to let spencer know that you’re heading to the basement, and spencer returns a signal that he’ll move upstairs.

you descend with stealthy steps. halfway down the flight of stairs, the platform creaks beneath your shoe, several wood fibers snapping with a splitting crack. the hairs on your skin stand and your flashlight shakes as you try to steady yourself. berating yourself for being so careless, you continue to tread down the rest of the steps with extreme caution.

it’s completely dark in the basement and your flashlight doesn’t illuminate the room as brightly as you want it to. but when you shine it to your left, you see it – a large cryochamber. right as you try to turn around to check if anyone’s behind you, you hear it – the click of a gun, aimed against the back of your head.

“drop it.”

you stand frozen, paralyzed with the realization that the unsub is right behind you, his gun positioned less than an inch from your skull.

you can faintly hear spencer yell clear! from upstairs. maybe you could stall a bit, wait for spencer to register your unusual silence. but the perpetrator has other plans.

“i said, drop the gun.” his tone is controlled and demanding, and your palms start to collect sweat. feeling your gun start to slip in your clammy grip, you decide to give in.

“okay, daniel, i’m going to put my gun down. we can talk about this,” you offer as you kneel slowly to place the gun and flashlight on the concrete floor. you stand back up with raised arms, watching as the shadow of his gun follows your every movement.

daniel kicks your gun to the far corner of the room and orders you to open the door to the chamber. the barrel of his gun knocks into your scalp, eliciting a sharp hiss from you.

“go inside.”

you swallow your own saliva, feeling the cold gust of air brush against your face and bare arms as you twist the lever to the door. today was decidedly a bad day to wear a tank top. it’s only when the rigid weapon hits your head once again that you take a step into the room. you bite your lip when you realize the girl who’s been kidnapped isn’t in the chamber. where is she? desperately, you turn around to meet the gun that's leveled right between your eyes.

“listen, daniel, we can just talk about this. none of this is your fault, we-”

daniel growls at your forced attempt to reason with him, and hushes you by waving his weapon menacingly. you clamp your mouth shut, and daniel retreats with his gun still pointed at you. he slams the door shut before you can protest further.

there’s an overhead light in the chamber, and it’s lit with an eerie shade of nordic blue. the surrounding walls are all frozen, and the floor’s coated with a layer of ice fractals. you can see marks of blood tainting the sides, and it looks like one of the victims attempted to fight back with their knuckles. after taking a few staggering steps, you slip and fall to the ground, yelping when the painful impact reverberates through your kneecaps.

it’s too cold. you estimate the temperature to be below negative twenty based on estimates from the victim reports you read earlier. you faintly remember spencer stating that death under such conditions could occur in less than an hour. if only you could retrace back to the conversation and ask him how to maximize your chances of survival.

spencer.

where’s spencer?

you start to shake uncontrollably as the panic settles in, your muscles convulsing and your vision spinning out of control. you loosen your bulletproof vest and brace your arms underneath to gather the last of your warmth. trying to breathe on your hands doesn’t help, since the freezing air instantly neutralizes the heat.

shit. you need to warn spencer not to come down to the basement, or at least let him know that the girl’s not here.

you click the button on your mic numerous times, cursing when nothing works. there’s static running in the background, and you can’t isolate any sound nor tell if a response is coming through. letting out a frustrated groan, you take off the mic and hurl it to the floor. with chattering teeth, you rub your arms as fast as you can to generate friction before giving up and curling into a fetal position on the ground.

minutes pass, and your labored breaths come out with visible puffs of air while your hair feels hard to the touch, like a layer of gel is smothered all over it. your fingers are numb, your jaw remains clenched, and your eyes are sore from the intolerable cold. you’ve stopped shaking now, which could only mean bad news.

then, all of a sudden, you hear the sound of a gunshot.

was that spencer?

oh dear god, did he just get shot?

you don’t have time to further process your thoughts, because the door’s lever starts to rattle and momentarily after, it swings open.

spencer stands right outside, mouth wide open when he sees your still body, your extremities frigid from the cold.

“medic, i need a medic!” you hear spencer yell into his mic as he rushes inside. he hoists you up with a bridal carry, one arm looping under your legs and the other gently supporting your back. as he walks out, you can see the unsub lying on the ground with a gunshot wound in his forehead. a sigh of relief can’t even exit your frosty lips.

spencer sets you down on the other side of the basement and rushes to turn the heaters on at the maximum setting.

“y/n, look at me.” with one hand almost blazing hot cupping your left cheek, spencer tilts your head to the side slightly.

you look at him with heavy-lidded eyes. after a second of assessing your condition, spencer stands and retrieves spare blankets from the worktable before kneeling beside you. he lifts your head so as to not strain your neck, and wraps a dry, warm blanket around it.

you hear spencer curse under his breath.

“i-i need to take your clothes off.”

you’re convinced it’s brain freeze that’s making you process his words with a delay.

right. no wet clothes when you have hypothermia.

you don’t respond. you want to tug at his arm to give him the green light, but even that feels like the most impossible task. you can’t move, you can’t feel, and you can’t even blink.

but spencer doesn’t hesitate. he tears the top that’s stuck to your thawing skin, lumps the fabric to the side, and proceeds to hastily remove your socks. you hear him murmur a soft sorry as he unbuckles the belt around your waist and unzips your jeans. his fingers fumble clumsily as he pulls on the denim, but he keeps a hand on your waistband to prevent your undergarment from slipping. it’s this little gesture that gets you all worked up, butterflies stirring in your stomach.

he reaches to slide each leg out of your jeans, holding you delicately by your heels. you wonder what you look like from his perspective. maybe a lifeless figure blended with the color of the concrete floor, the only sign of life in your moist hair that’s tangled and plastered to your skin. you wonder if his eidetic memory is capturing every imperfection of your body, and if your scars look even more obvious with the melting flakes of ice coating your skin.

spencer doesn’t leave you exposed for more than a second, though, because he places a heated blanket over your body. his eyes don’t break away from your gaze when he removes his vest, and his fixed stare kindles a spark in your core that you wish never set alight. unfortunately for you, he also starts to unbutton his collared shirt.

in any other setting, you would open your eyes wide and gawk at him if he pulled the same move, but right now, you couldn’t move a single muscle even if you wanted to. he wraps his collared shirt around your exposed feet peeking from under the blanket before turning to face you. it feels illegal to look at him like this, his upper body bare and towering over you. and while you can’t see much due to the dim lighting in the basement, you can feel your heartbeat quicken.

“i’m… i’m going to use skin-to-skin contact, okay? we’re going to try and increase your internal temperature by sharing body heat,” spencer explains, but not much of it goes through your head. like before, you don’t say a word.

spencer slowly lowers himself next to you and gently embraces your body with his arms. he grunts as your body transmits cold onto his skin, while you close your eyes, relishing his warmth that blossoms throughout your core and extremities.

“i’m sorry i have to do this, but you can’t produce enough heat on your own,” spencer apologizes, but you wish he didn’t feel like he needed to. his voice fills your body up like it’s an empty vial, and you give in completely to his touch. like candle wax, you melt slowly.

spencer shifts to cover his and your body with another blanket, desperately trying to keep your body exposed to as many layers of heat as possible. he releases hot breaths on your neck and his teeth occasionally graze your sensitive skin, making your eyelashes flutter. periodically, he checks your breathing patterns and listens as the painful gasps make their way into your throat. that’s it, keep breathing, you hear him whisper. his fingers spread along your waist as he tries to widen his grip on you. his touch feels so intimate, it sends your brain into overdrive.

you continue to lie in his hold for another five minutes until the medics arrive. the last thing you see is spencer’s face, wisps of hair falling into his eyes. he seems to move in slow motion, and his mouth moves like he’s saying something to you, but everything whirls into darkness.

you wake with an exhausted groan and look down to see you’re wearing a white gown. you’re on a hospital bed, hooked up to an iv line. as you survey your surroundings with your blurred vision, you stop. spencer. he’s standing at the foot of the bed, and he immediately drops his book with a thud when he sees that you’re responsive.

he rushes to your side, smiling weakly as he holds your hand gently. he has dark circles around his eyes and tousled hair furls around his ears. you feel guilty. did he get any sleep this entire time, or was he waiting for you to wake? how long were you even asleep for?

“are you feeling better?” he croaks out quietly with a slight crack in his voice.

“mm. i am.” you force yourself to sit up against your body’s will, and spencer tries to stop you. you insist with the shake of your head.

“it’s okay. i just wanted to say… thank you, spencer. i really owe you one.”

he blinks while his lips stretch into a thin smile.

“no, i-i actually, um, it was my fault. i shouldn’t have split up with you like that, especially when we didn’t have backup.”

you wet your lips and exhale quietly.

“i was the one who signaled that we split up, not you. none of this is your fault. seriously,” you respond firmly.

you give him a smile, which he returns. as his hand moves to rub a soothing massage along your fingers, you ask, “is the girl okay?”

spencer nods almost immediately.

“yeah. i found her on the third floor, and she told me that he was keeping her in the basement until we arrived.”

“i see,” you croon. spencer gets the hint that you’re tired, and he calmly lowers your hand.

“if it makes you feel any better, technically, we didn’t really… um… touch. at the macroscopic level, yes, but at the atomic level, the atoms of our skin aren’t free floating. they’re bound as part of a larger network, and so intermolecular forces keep our atoms from forming strong bonds-”

you let out a weak laugh.

he catches himself and quietly apologizes. “my point is, i’m sorry if anything i did made you uncomfortable.”

you reach for his hand and trace the veins that mark his skin.

“spence, are you kidding? you saved my life. if you hadn’t done that, i wouldn’t be talking to you right now. i’d be dead.”

“don’t say that,” spencer reproves you quietly.

“well, my point is i trust you with my entire life, spencer reid. i really do.”

spencer smiles and takes a deep breath, running his other hand through his hair as he looks at you with tired eyes.

“thank you. thank you for trusting me. i’ll … i should let you rest.” he slides his hand out of your grasp and moves to pick up the book from the floor, but you give his shirt a light tug.

“actually, spence–”

he turns around, curious eyes ready to listen to anything you have to ask.

“do you mind staying a bit longer?” you smile sheepishly.

spencer looks at you for a second, like it’s the last thing he’s expected you to say. but he immediately warms up with a wide grin. “sure, of course.”

you pat the space next to you on the bed as you shift to the edge.

“come on, have a seat,” you say with an inviting tone.

“are you sure?” he confirms, a surprised expression painting his face. you nod, and he sinks into the bed, gently lifting your arm and lowering it onto his lap.

“you like the color red, right?” spencer asks out of the blue, and you furrow your brows.

“yeah, why do you ask?” you return curiously.

“i got you a new top. to make up for the… other one,” spencer coughs as he finishes his sentence. you giggle, burying your left cheek in the pillow as a blush creeps over your cheek.

“you didn’t have to, i really appreciate it,” you whisper, and you feel his fingers tighten around yours. spencer looks away shyly, but you can see him purse his lips to suppress a smile.

you repeat thank you's to him over and over again, each time feeling the weight of comfort pull on your eyelids and draw you closer to sleep.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!”

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?”

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.”

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.”

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.”

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.”

“How would it be your fault?”

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.”

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.”

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?”

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.”

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?”

You blink. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.”

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.”

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?”

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now.

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.”

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway.

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up.

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.”

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours.

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime.

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice.

“I might,” you say.

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

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eccentricwritingbaby · 5 months

Text

baby finn series, babysitting and date nights

series masterlist

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - uncle carlos comes over to babysit finn as you and your husband enjoy a night out.

masterlist

when lando had finally turned the latch of the lock to your shared home, he let out an exhausted sigh. he had been in the sim all day with a long road ahead of him in order to secure a win. he was drained. he had been there the entire day, missing dinner and almost missing bedtime. all he wanted was to hug his young son, kiss his beautiful wife, and take a long hot shower. the universe, however, had other plans.

opening the door, lando was met with baby finn running circles around you in nothing but his diaper. you locked eyes with your husband and he could feel the exhaustion that you were exhibiting, too. finn wasn’t being bad, he was just being a kid. he had loads of energy that you and lando could usually keep up with in high spirits, but, work had been kicking both of your asses. you were both burning out.

“finn, honey, please it’s time for your bath,” you let out a sigh, bringing your hand up to brush the hair out of your face. lando walks over to assess the situation fully, bringing your tired body into his arms for a hug. you slump against him as he kisses your forehead and locks eyes with his son.

“finn. bath. now,” your husband puts his foot down and your son happily runs towards the bathroom, not grasping the exhaustion or irritation of his parents - thankfully. one thing neither of you ever did was push your problems onto your son, and you never wanted to.

“thank you, i’ll head in there in a min-” you begin but your husband cuts you off with a kiss.

“no, we agreed you’d take the morning, i’ll take bedtime. i’ve got this,” lando replies with a swipe to your bum.

“but you look tired, love-”

“so do you. it’s alright, who knows? maybe finn’s innocent energy will rub off on me, eh?” you chuckle at his question and wordlessly nod before he continues, “go get ready for bed, i’ll call you right in,” one more smack to your bum and lando is heading into the bathroom to start his son’s nightly routine as you follow his polite orders to take care of yourself.

around a half hour later, lando is calling you into finn’s room for a cuddle and a tuck into bed. as you arrive, you can see finn slowly losing his energy cuddled into your husband’s arms, letting out a yawn.

“is my sweet boy tired?” you question towards your son, seeing lando nod his head yes as finn lets go of a quiet ‘so much mommy’.

“i think he had a case of the late night zoomies,” lando lets out a laugh as he gently sets his son into bed, proceeding to get him comfortable under the blankets. you both then lean down, kissing his forehead, wishing him a good night's sleep, and reminding him you’d see him in the morning. after the lights are off and the door cracked a bit open, lando leads you down the hall towards your bedroom with a firm hand on your lower back.

you collapse onto the bed in a huff once you enter, leading your husband to quietly laugh at you - still cautious of the sleepy boy down the hall.

“i’m heading to shower, love. care to join?” lando offers with eyes wide and smile even larger. you grant him a feverish nod and begin to follow behind him eagerly as he giggles.

once you were both stripped and into the steamy shower, lando’s body slumped against yours, his back being attacked by the hot water and his head resting on your shoulder. you run your hand gently through his wet curls as he lets out a deep sigh.

“wanna talk about it?” you whisper into his hair. lando shakes his head and mumbles into your shoulder, “could you repeat that, love?” you giggle, shaking your shoulder a bit to move lando’s face out of your neck and into your view. his hands grip your waist as yours are guided to rest on either side of his face.

“i just want to relax, we haven’t had a day just us to relax, i miss my wife,”

“i miss you too but that’s the life of parents, lan. maybe if you had pulled out three year-”

“alright, alright,” he exclaims, “you don’t need to harp on my pullout game for me to get the picture” he laughs while reaching behind you to grab some body wash.

“i do agree we need a small break, though,” you sigh, “work has been draining me, i don’t want it to affect finn,”

“ya know who’s in town next week, love?” lando’s eyes sparkle as he asks, prompting you to laugh and let out a shake of your head, urging him to continue, “carlos,”

“okay, bud. uncle los will be here very soon, do you remember what we talked about?” lando is on one knee, bent at your son’s level and looking oh so fine. his black button up with most of the top buttons loose, the dark pants to go with it and the chains dangling from his neck already had you worked up, but the adorable nature of his fatherhood? now that’s hot.

“yes, daddy,” your son replies, you can tell he’s attempting to hold in his excitement as much as he can as he is almost vibrating due to his little bursts of energy.

“can you tell me again, bubs?” lando holds onto his son’s hands, searching his eyes at an attempt to really have finn understand the importance.

“um, say pwease and tank you!”

“very good, what else?”

“be nice,”

“good, bubs, anything else?”

“do what uncle los say?” finn adds his last answer with an unsure smile as he eyes his dad with a tilted head. lando chuckles at his son’s cuteness and kisses his head, nodding in confirmation for your son to listen to his babysitter for the night.

“and help him out, baby. if he needs anything, okay?” you add on, making your entrance in the room known. lando looks over to you and it seems as if his heart stopped, but it hadn’t. if anything it was beating so fast it could've flown out of his chest. standing up from his position on the ground, he makes his way over to you, mouth agape, eyes raking your figure, and head slowly shaking left to right.

“you look…” your husband drinks in your appearance again, eyes scanning you from head to toe, “absolutely breathtaking,” he finishes off, his right hand coming over to hold his heart.

“thank you, my love,” you giggle a bit, stepping to him in order to plant a kiss to his cheek, “you clean up pretty nice, too,” you shoot him a wink, walking past him and towards your son.

“thanks for walking away, dear. this view is much better,” lando lets out a chuckle, eyes not daring to drift from your ass, until your head swivels - and he catches your smile.

“anytime, baby,” you laugh at his antics, leading him on as you bend over to grab your son, slower than usual. you hear a deep groan come from lando but before anymore comments were made, the doorbell rang throughout the home. finn drops from your arms, beginning his race to the door.

“finn! wait until i open the door!” lando shouts, jogging over to where your toddler was attempting to reach the handle.

“i big like you dada! i do it!” finn jumps again, trying with all his little might to reach the handle. lando comes behind him, scooping him up from behind and holding him near the handle and lock.

“alright, go ahead big boy,” lando urges his son to open the door, and when he does, his excited shrieks are all that fill the house.

“UNCLE LOS!” finn has wiggled out of his fathers’ grasp and already launched himself into carlos’ arms.

“hola, pequeño,” the ferrari driver lets out with a chuckle.

“i so excited you here!” finn is squirming up and down in carlos’ arms as the adults all just laugh at the adorable kid. lando pulls him out of carlos’ arms for one more brief chat about his behavior as you hand carlos the important babysitting list.

“basically, it's all the numbers you don’t already have, like fewtrell and i think my mom, and then his schedule is here,” you continue briefing carlos as lando begins to stand and make his way back to you, “you don’t have to be too strict about this, just have fun,” you assure carlos at the end of the run through.

“i’ve got it, you guys have fun. finn and i sure will,” carlos begins to usher you two out the door, a hyper-active three year old seemingly glued to his leg.

“call if you need anything, and i mean anything,” lando emphasizes to his friend.

“lando. it will be fine, you muppet. go enjoy your night with your wife, i’m going to catch up with mi amigo, finn, here,” at this point he is pushing you and your husband out the door and you both laugh at the door shutting in your faces. lando extends his arm for you to hold with a ‘m’lady’, and you both make your way to the restaurant.

at the restaurant, the maître d' guides you to your table and lando proceeds to pull out the chair for you to take your seat. both now seated, he begin to ask what drinks to begin with, lando responding with his and you responding with ‘just a water, please’. walking away to fulfill your orders, lando spares you an odd glance.

“it’s our night off, love. you didn’t want to get a drink?”

“no, just a water will do it for me,” you respond quick, your husband still eyeing you with oddity, “im glad we’re doing this,” you continue, reaching across the table to hold his hand in yours.

“me too, a night just to ourselves was very needed,” he lets out with a smile.

“i just hope our boy isn’t causing too much chaos at home,” you sigh, the waiter coming over to take your orders and drop off your drinks. lando just mumbles a ‘they’ll be fine’ almost to assure himself before placing his order.

“vroom! vroom!” finn squeaks out on the floor, rolling his red ferrari cars around the living room. carlos joins in with a laugh, proceeding to hold his own decorated sainz55 car - finn’s most prized possession - and run it around their make-shift track. he quickly pulls out his phone to capture the moment and ease the parents minds.

“finn, look here! it’s for mommy and daddy, smile!” carlos instructs the little boy. finn looks up, letting out a huge smile and giggle, before crawling into the ferrari drivers lap. one more picture - a selfie this time - of finn clinging onto carlos’ neck, and carlos hits a quick send to his friends.

“here, honey,” lando pulls his phone out and sends it your way in order for you to also see the adorable array of photos your babysitter had sent.

“well aren’t they having fun?” you place a hand over your heart as you speak, too in awe of the little chubby cheeked smile staring back at you.

“this was a grand idea,” your husband reiterates, putting his phone away into his pocket after typing a response back. you both share a look and a smile, before continuing your previous conversation and finishing your food.

making it home a little past finn’s bedtime, you both didn’t know what you would walk into. bedtime was finn’s only struggle, therefore him being awake when you arrived home wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for what both you and your husband expect.

except, when you walk in, your house is clean, quiet, and calm. carlos stands from the couch in order to greet the both of you, while you’re both scrambling to pick your jaws off the floor.

“i’m assuming it went well?” you ask with a laugh while carlos brings you into a light hug.

“si, finn was a gentlemen. he passed out on the couch by seven and i just carried him into his room after that,” you and lando share a look of disbelief before carlos continues, “we played with some cars, ate some dinner, watched a movie, and he went down really easily,”

“can you move in?” lando pops the question into the conversation as carlos laughs off the request, “i’m serious, sainz,” your husband pushes again.

“did you two enjoy your night?” the ferrari driver ignores his friends jokes, directing his attention to you.

“we did, thank you so much for this, carlos,” you respond with a smile, “we really appreciate it,”

carlos gives you another hug goodbye and you begin to make your way towards finn’s room to check on him as lando walks carlos out, continuing his pestering of ‘how did you do it, mate?’ and ‘you don’t understand he hates bedtime’.

you stand in the doorway of your son’s room for some time, admiring the sleepy boy all cozy under his racecar blankets. feeling a hand on your waist, you turn and catch your husband in a kiss.

“let’s go to bed, love,” he offers once you break apart. you give him a silent nod, and you both make your way into your bedroom - lando stealing one last glance at your son.

walking into your bedroom, you discard your heels and begin to unzip your dress.

“ah, ah,” lando stops your movements, replacing your hands on the zipper with his own, “allow me,” you giggle a bit as he continues to unzip your dress, letting it pool onto the floor. he pulls your back into him and begins to pepper your skin with sweet and sensual kisses as you blush in his hold, “we still need to make baby number two,” he mumbles into your skin while continuing his kisses. your body stiffens, lando feeling and understanding the tension releases your body and turns you to face him.

“what is it, y/n? do you not want another baby anymore?” he asks quietly, as if he’s scared of your answer.

“no, no. it’s not that,” you reply, head hanging down to stare at your feet.

“then what is it?” lando cups your chin in his hands with his question, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“it’s just that,” you sigh, searching lando’s eyes, “we don’t need to keep trying, if there’s already a baby on the way,”

1K notes · View notes

shewroteaworld · 1 year

Text

I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't

Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.

Word count: approx. 3,200

TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!

“Does anybody have more water?”

“Where is the damn ambulance?”

Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open.

Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair.

“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning,

“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”

Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die?

“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked.

You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid, couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

“What I do?” You whined.

“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”

“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.”

You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.

“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.

Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to.

Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously. The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.

Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.

“No!” You exclaimed.

“Honey–” Morgan tried.

You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip.

“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.

“She needs water.” JJ countered.

“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”

Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.

You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?

Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.”

Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.

“(Y/N), relax.”

“Honey, please–”

“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard.

***

Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations.

He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list.

But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world.

Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.

Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.

When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.

You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat.

He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay.

“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.

“We’re trying, she—”

“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.

Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness.

“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face.

“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said.

Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”

“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice.

“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.

Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered.

“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”

“This was for her to drink.”

“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.”

Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”

Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass.

“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline.

“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.

Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly.

Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”

“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.

Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further.

“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”

“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.

Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”

“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”

The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious.

Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.

Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”

“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident.

“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.”

“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.

You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.”

Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.

He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.

“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”

The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid.

“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict.

“I can’t…I don’t know.”

“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”

“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.

Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs.

One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.

After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again.

“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”

He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”

***

Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update.

“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded.

“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked.

Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”

“Can I see her?” Spencer asked.

“Yes. Only two at a time, please.”

Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.

The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.

Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station.

You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior.

So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends.

He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.

***

When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.

Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back.

“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked.

He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.

“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”

You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”

He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.

There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital.

His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–

“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”

“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.

“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.

Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health.

“What hurts?”

“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.”

He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people.

“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”

The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case.

“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”

You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body.

In Morgan's words, he’s down bad.

“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway.

Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.

“Um…”

Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”

You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”

“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.

“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.”

“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further.

He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.

You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”

“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.

“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.

“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.

“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”

Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling.

“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.

“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said.

Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.

He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall.

“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”

Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”

Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”

You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end.

And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.

There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness.

Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”

“And who says you don't make her happy?”

“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.

Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.

“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.

Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.”

“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.

Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”

Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.”

Rossi left Reid staring at his back.

For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue.

But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.

But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.

And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.

And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.

Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)

Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)

Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.

Forever grateful,

shewroteaworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot

3K notes · View notes

catiuskaa · 8 months

Text

missed me, missed me, now you gotta...

SUMMARY: minho wasn’t grumpy, nor he was jealous. but he hasn’t been the same ever since he fell in love with you.

REQUESTED! by a sweet annonie right here. pookie, your idea was lovely to write! lil grumpy minho, im melting… it’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! <3

CW: use of (crack) text messages to convey the plot, starring: han quokka as cupid + reader’s bsf, clingy minho as king of my heart, and ngl, type 1 diabetes fluff ahead. keep insulin shots close just in case! lol

WC: 1.1k

A/N: i love how i’m slowly turning into a minho blog/page lmaoo, only minho: the man, the myth, the legend!

[🪻☆🌫️☆🪻]

The same ringtone buzzed again during rehearsals. Its ding had sounded so many times already that it had started to get repetitive really quickly.

Minho frowned as he looked in the mirror, retouching his rolled sleeves just once more for what he secretly knew it had been more than twenty times. In the span of ten minutes. Maybe even less.

But Minho wasn’t ‘grumpy’.

He so wasn’t.

His day had been normal so far. He had no reason to be grumpy. Not one what-so-ever.

He had woken up in between your arms, and even if he had ‘complained’ about it, he loved being the little spoon. And also, his cats jumped on the bed and, just for once, none of them landed on his face.

There had been just one thing.

…

Well. Technically more than one.

You had rushed outside this morning. You claimed you didn’t have time to have breakfast with him, because you were late for something he didn’t really get. Because of that, you hadn’t come over to the JYP building with him. He had to drive over alone. And you hadn’t pecked him goodbye at the entrance like always.

But he. Wasn’t. Grumpy.

Not. At. All.

> sunggie: girl, did you hide his cats or smth?

< minho’s owner: lol, wdym dude?

> sunggie: he looks like he’s going to kill me.

> sunggie: And he loves me! Wtf??

“Jisung-ah.”

Han shrieked in his place in the sofa, his phone almost falling off his hands. He quickly turned it off, hoping that the grumpy dancer hadn’t seen the old or new messages.

“Who were you texting?” Minho frowned, deeper this time.

“Oh.” Jisung chuckled. “Just checking in on noona.”

“My girlfriend?” The way Minho enunciated the title felt a bit possesive. Jisung eyed at him weirdly for a second. Even he felt weird himself.

Jisung nodded sheepishly, turning his phone back on but quickly opening a random app.

“Yeah. I owed her a call back.” He shrugged, nonchalantly accepting that he had opened Subway Surfers, and started to play.

As the catchy music came from Han’s phone, Minho shook his head.

Not grumpy.

Not at all.

But the thought that you had been texting Han and didn’t text him —instead of him— did funny things in his chest.

Now, keep in mind that Minho would never describe himself as a jealous man.

He trusted you with his cats, of course he trusted you regarding your relationship. But he had barely got a hold of you all day. And Han had. By call and text. Like he was doing now.

Not grumpy.

Sure.

< minho’s owner: you dead yet?

Jisung groaned.

> sunggie: no! you made me lose my score!

> sunggie: and I don’t have any keys! ㅠㅠ

< minho’s owner: sucks to suck, lol

< minho’s owner: but what’s wrong with my future husband? did you do something?

> sunggie: he’s moody since he came in this morning.

> sunggie: you weren’t here tho. smth wrong between ya?

< minho’s owner: no…? just had to run to work early…

And then, something in Jisung’s paboracha brain connected. Probably because of how he had named your contact in his phone.

> sunggie: omg

< minho’s owner: what?

> sunggie: that corny dumbass

> sunggie: he’s so stupid

< minho’s owner: bitch what is it???

> sunggie: he’s moody bc u didn’t come in with him today!

You hesitated. Could that be it?

< minho’s owner: really? u think so?

> sunggie: bitch I know so!

> sunggie: imma go get boba for the boys, get your ass here and come w/ me

Jisung’s brain started to work at cupid’s speed.

< minho’s owner: omw. be there in 5’

“Guys, I’m gonna go get boba. Do any of you want something?”

The rest of the gang blabbered something while some kept going over the steps of the choreography and the others rested on the couch, doozing off or on their phones. Han quickly noted down everyone’s orders, not before being squinted down by Minho. He held back a shiver.

“Clingy prick…” Jisung mumbled, leaving quickly.

He walked out of the JYP building, waiving and half bowing to the staff members and other artists in the building.

< minho’s owner: just parked! ^^

Jisung entered the boba place next to the building, smiling at the cashier as he read down the orders on his note app, and stood aside, waiting for the drinks.

“Hey!” You smiled widely at him, taking off your scarf, merely leaving it hanging on your shoulders. He clapped your hand, playfully slapping your back.

“Working hard?” Jisung snickered, pointing at the bag on your other hand.

You side-eyed at him, giggling softly.

“Took some snacks before heading off.” You shrugged. “We can sneak these in, right?”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll… come up with something.”

You both struggled carrying the drinks, teasing each other and betting who’d make a mess first. But all giggles came to an end when the security guard stared at you.

“Name and business?” He asked in a low huff.

Your body stiffened.

“She’s my sister,” Han chimed back. You were in fact far from being his sister, but that didn’t matter when the guard seemed to nod. “She’s just helping me carry the drinks inside.”

“And the bag? What’s inside?”

You cleared your throat, smiling. “Clothes for him to change once he finishes training.” You lied.

Thank God for his imagination. And for his stupid idea of shoving your scarf and his hoodie into the bag of snacks.

“Ok. You may come in.” The guard smiled politely.

Only after the both of you had gotten into the elevator you allowed yourselves to let out a sight full of relief. You two then smirked, high-fiving.

“Thank you, bro.” You teased in a snicker.

He cackled. “You’re welcome, sis.”

You both laughed and joked until you reached the training room.

“The person you dream of is back!” Han cackled.

“Noona!” Felix grinned happily.

“Yeah, that’s me!” You cackled at Jisung’s faked frown.

You smiled and greeted everyone as you entered, leaving a certain bunny boy for last.

You sat next to him on the couch, and without missing a beat, he took your legs and layed them on his lap.

You took a sip of his drink, and he stared at you, almost with a squint.

“You’ve made me jealous of fucking Han Jisung.” He stated matter-o-factly, making you practically choke on the tapioka pearls.

You coughed. “What?”

“You texted him all evening. And me? Not even a good luck kiss this morning.”

“Aw, are you grumpy, kitten?” You grinned teasingly, speaking only towards him in a soft tone to his ear. You pecked his cheek.

He needed more of those.

Grumpy, huh?

“Yes. Very.” He mumbled, hiding his blushed and pleased grin in the crook of your neck. “Need more kisses.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” You mumbled in a snicker. He hummed at you, waiting for you to explain.

You kissed his forehead softly, his hands stroking your thighs.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.”

~Kats, who can write this in one sit, but can’t figure out how chemistry works (yes have exams, why did I choose this for myself, help)

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astralis-ortus · 4 months

Text

placebo effect

✱ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader

— maybe the actual remedy is his smile.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warnings → reader is sick :(, mild cussing, kissing, cute pet names (baby, love, princess) and generally very much in love it makes me sick >:( heh a.n → based on this request! kinda speeding through this (immediately worked on this after i posted the last fic), but i am in need of just pure fluff so here we are, a few hours later. heh♡ ⋆ see masterlist

being sick felt like shit.

growing up, you’ve always been the kid with perfect attendance. be it in school or throughout uni, you’ve always made the effort to attend every single one of your classes—and one of the reasons was all because you rarely ever got sick. maybe it’s because of your parents’ good genes, or likely due to how your mom made sure you always took your daily vitamins, but you’re always known as one the healthiest kids in the class.

that record, however, ended after you graduated a few years back.

you’d like to blame it the shift of environment—you know, given that you literally flew thousands of miles away to chase your lifelong dream, but considering you also moved states away from home for uni… that likely wasn’t the case.

“hey there, sleepyhead.”

a soft groan rolled off your lips when you felt your bed dip to your boyfriend’s weight, his fingers gently ran through your surely messy hair. your attempt to crack a peek at chris wasn’t quite a success, considering how even the slightest bleeding light from the gap behind your curtain was quick to trigger the soft throb in your head to return, fetching another set of low whimpers out of you.

“it’s okay, baby. i’m here. how’s your headache?” he hummed; pads of his fingers now gently pressed against the base of your head as he attempted to relief any pain that might still linger.

chris, your angel of a boyfriend, had been taking care of you since your condition started to decline the day prior. despite your stubbornness about still going to work (which didn’t end well, considering you were sent home by lunch anyway), chris didn’t even peep a word and readily picked you up from work, all geared up with your favorite porridge and cold medicine he picked up on the way.

“it’s fine as long as i don’t open my eyes,” you meekly answered, voice still noticeably very different from your usual cheery ones. “which reminds me, we do need a black out curtain, hun.”

his chuckle filled the rather quiet bedroom, involuntarily tugging the corner of your pale lips into a smile. “we’ll get them after you’re all better, baby,” he assured, hand that rested on the back of your neck now pressed against your forehead, “fever’s pretty much gone. think you could sit up for a bit? gotta fill your tummy with food before the meds, love.”

you know he’s right—you do need to eat, but with the way you’re currently feeling, protesting at any request to shift your body was the only available option.

“can i just eat later?” you pursed your lips, attempting to appeal your plea with a dash of cuteness you knew chris have a hard time standing his ground against. “maybe sleeping more will help…”

“nuh uh, no can do, princess,” chris gently tapped his finger on the tip of your nose, “you need the meds. the food too, but most importantly your meds. i don’t want your suffering to prolong just because you didn’t get your meds on time,” he reasoned, pads of his fingers now gently massaging the top of your head and in turn made you sigh in relief. chris always knew what to do whenever you complained about a headache, and you’re grateful for that.

“fiiine,” you exaggerated, reaching out your arms as a signal for chris to help you up. even with your eyes closed, you knew he had that proud grin etched on his lips when he gently pulled you to sit straight. you winced at the ache, but voiced no complaint as chris planted a light kiss on your scrunched forehead.

“a sec, okay? i’ll bring the radish soup for you,” chris left another kiss on the top of your head, grinning at how excitedly you reacted to the kind of food he had prepared before you heard his disappearing footsteps.

you forced a peek around the room, noticing the dim lighting as chris kept the curtains closed for your comfort. after a quick scan of your and chris’ bedroom, one you’ve been spending a little too much time in for the past couple of days, your line of sight then rested upon your locked phone. a single tap on the screen, and the action easily made your brows furrow.

“babe—”

“chris, it’s 10am on a thursday,” you pointed out as soon as you heard his voice from just beyond the slightly ajar door, “didn��t you say things has been hectic lately?”

“well, yeah,” he shrugged, careful footsteps finally returned to your side, followed by the dip on your bed, “but you’re sick. getting you back to health is a lot more important to me than anything else.”

“christopher,” you groaned, pursing your lips in protest, “i told you to not do things like this! you’re important, what you do is important. you can’t let me stop you from doing all that!”

“but i’m not letting you,” he replied nonchalantly, blowing on the spoonful of soup and rice before he feeds you. “it is my decision. i want to take care of you, and nothing is more important for me than you. as simple as that.”

“but—”

“no more discussion on that matter, baby,” chris warned you, stern gaze immediately shutting off any complaints about to leave your tongue. “it’s on me. you’re my girlfriend, and to take care of you is what i need to do, because i love you and i want all the best for you. okay?”

maybe it’s the fever returning, but you could feel your cheeks warming up.

“…fine.”

with his lips blooming into a content smile, his hand returned to the steady flow of bowl-cooling off-feeding you. he’s happy, and it’s apparent through the way his gaze lingers on you every time you take another bite, slowly finishing the bowl of food in his hand.

maybe it’s your head fooling you with some kind of placebo effect, but you do feel better—simply by watching the tenderness in his face every time he looks at you.

“all done,” he cheerily announced after you took your last bite, gently wiping the corners of your lips with the pad of his thumb. “be back with the meds, okay? just a sec.”

his movements immediately ceased when he felt a tug on the t-shirt he’s wearing, eyes immediately returning to you in worry. “yes, love?”

you quietly looked at him, suddenly feeling a little shy—but why would you be?

“…you.”

“huh?” chris blinked, head involuntarily tilted to one side in confusion. “what was that, love?”

oh god.

“i really wanna kiss you,” you reiterated, lips slightly pursed in embarrassment, “but i don’t want you to catch the cold. but like—you’re just so adorable. why are you like this? i’m—"

any thoughts you had immediately vaporized as soon as you felt chris’ soft lips on yours—smile apparent against your lips. his warm hand gently cradled your cheek, and despite it being short, chris successfully left you feeling dazed.

“…wait,” you eventually blinked, face burning in embarrassment when you realized the cheeky grin he’s sporting just inches away from your face. “christopher! you’re gonna get sick!”

“well, what do you expect me to do?” chris shrugged as he walked backwards, away from you,

“my girlfriend said she wanted to kiss me—how could i say no to that?”

“gosh—christopher!”

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nerdy-novelist017 · 25 days

Text

Denim (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Smut)

Heyyyy, remember when i did that little poll forever ago and the majority of you guys wanted me to turn the ending into smut? Well, here it is 🤗 I just pray nobody who knows me IRL will read this, but i hope all of YOU guys enjoy this! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.1k+

Summary- He nearly groaned at the sight of you, all sweet in your soft satin slip with his rough denim jacket dwarfing your small figure.

18+ Minors please do not interact!

******

Benny took a long, slow drag of his cigarette as he watched you from his place on the bed bend over to grab your slip dress from the floor. The trail of clothes leading into his bedroom were the result of his desires and fervor manifested by returning home to your sweet smile. After a particularly rough day with some new members joining the Vandals, his frustrations built and threatened to crack his carefully crafted persona of calm, his entire ride back home was filled with nothing but the dirty thoughts he had of bending you over the kitchen counter and releasing his anger. But upon entering his house, his senses were overwhelmed by the smell of something sweet baking in the oven. He found you standing at the kitchen island, adorning a flour-covered apron overtop one of your pretty little sundresses. You held a spatula in one hand, stirring it into the bowl of what Benny could only assume was batter, and the other was holding open a cookbook on the countertop, finger lightly tracing the words as you mouthed the instructions softly.

“Hi, honey!” You greeted him with that smile that just seemed to melt away all his aggressions. “I’m baking a pie for tomorrow. I’ve never tried this recipe so I’m making my failsafe too, just in case.”

You were referring to another Vandals meeting happening tomorrow evening. A sickeningly sweet warmth bloomed in his chest and he knew he couldn’t fuck you there like what he’d planned. No, you were so thoughtful and kind. He wanted to make love to you, to show you that he loved you. That’s what you deserved.

“God, you’re beautiful," he said as he watched the slip fall over your shoulders, gracefully laying over your body like water running over stones, covering your figure down to your mid thigh.

He leaned his upper half against the headboard, one arm propped behind his head, the sheets pulled noncommittally over his bare hips. From the bed, he could see the blush tinge your nose and cheeks. He loved that he still had that effect on you, it filled him with a sense of pride that his words (among other things) could still garner a physical reaction from you.

You grinned at him sheepishly. “That’s what I think about you.”

Benny had never been with a woman that called him beautiful before you. Sure, he’d been complimented many times, but called beautiful? That was something only you have ever told him. You found a lot of things beautiful, constantly pointing out flowers on the side of the highway or sunsets on the horizon. He loved seeing the world through your eyes. Sure, he appreciated the sunsets sometimes or your new dresses, but he only found them beautiful when you were on the back of his bike to enjoy the sunset, only thought the flowers were pretty when you placed them in your hair. Beauty was only a concept when you were involved.

He watched as you began picking up the rest of your clothes, gathering everything in your arms, but then something caught your eye. Discarding the rest of your clothes on the foot of the bed, you bent, giving Benny a generous view of your chest before retrieving the item that gave you pause.

He glanced down at it in your hands. His Vandals jacket. He quirked a brow as your gaze fluttered back up to his, a flirtatious glint in your eye. You turn from him and move to stand in front of the mirror above the desk. He watches intently as you slowly spin the jacket and bring it around behind you, sliding each hand through at a time before shrugging it over your shoulder. It was several sizes too big on you. Your fingertips barely grazed the ends of each sleeve and the hem of the denim covered your butt. You swiped at your hair trapped beneath the collar as you studied yourself in the reflection.

You’re eyes locked with him in the mirror and you smiled. “You reckon I could be a Vandal?”

He nearly groaned at the sight of you, all sweet in your soft satin slip with his rough denim jacket dwarfing your small figure. “Bunny, I reckon you could take over that whole damn club tomorrow if you walked in wearing that.”

Your giggle sent a jolt through his stomach and he felt himself grinning like an idiot as he watched you turn from the mirror and do a spin for him. You were just too damn cute.

“Now, you’re official,” he teased, blowing out a trail of smoke from between his lips, eyes unable to look away from you as you moved back to the bedside.

“Not quite.” You fixed him with a mischievous look as you crawled onto the bed slowly, sliding a leg over his hips so that you were straddling his lap. “I still need something to ride.”

He smudged the rest of his cigarette out in the ashtray before his hands found the soft flesh of your bare thighs. You planted your palms over his chest and the sensation burned straight through to his heart. He leaned up to capture your lips. “I think I have something you could take for a spin.”

He swallowed your moan, hands kneading up to your hips where he helped position you over himself. You had never been the one on top before, and your heart pounded at the intimidating idea. But because Benny always seemed to read your thoughts, he said, “It’s okay, baby. Just go slow.”

Benny’s hands on thighs tightened, helping to guide himself to your entrance and you released a breathy moan of satisfaction when you felt his cock sink into you. He clenched his jaw tightly when you began to move slowly, hesitantly, his rough fingers tracing your soft skin with an almost reverent touch. “Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head momentarily as you rode him.

Though he wanted to remain locked onto you, his eyes couldn’t help but roam over every curve of your beautiful body, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He marveled at how easily you brought him to his knees, at how you seemed to just control his every thought. When he came home to you standing in the kitchen, so innocent and unassuming, all the day’s frustrations and worries just melted away. You had the power to do that. And now, with you rocking above him, your eyes locked onto his, he felt that very same sensation of awe wash over him again. How did he ever get so lucky?

“You feel so good, Bunny,” he moaned as his head fell back against the pillow, his heart pounding in his ears. “Just–just like that.”

He took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his face and planting kisses to your palm. With every movement you made, his thoughts spiraled further, his mind becoming hazy. Mine, the word echoed in his head as a fierce and possessive need that both terrified and thrilled him. He had never thought he’d want something so badly in his life, never thought he’d care so much. But here you were, in his bed, in his life, and he was utterly lost in you. Every kiss he pressed to your skin, every touch was a promise – a promise to do anything he could to keep you, to make you happy, to be worthy of you.

At his praise, you felt confidence bubble within you, and you picked up the pace, driven by the need to please him, your hips grinding into his with a friction that sent electricity straight into your core. The sound of your shared breaths, the squeak of the bed springs both filled the room in a sweet symphony that drove you to the very edge.

Your name slipped from his lips in a broken, needy sound that made your heart skip a beat. You could feel him straining beneath you, his muscles taut with desire. You leaned forward, your hair falling into a curtain around his face as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, watching as his eyes darkened with fervor, his control slipping.

His hand slid up your back, beneath the Vandals jacket, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss that made your head spin. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was starving for you, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that sent waves of heat through your entire body.

And in typical Benny fashion, he couldn’t relinquish control for long. Without breaking the kiss, he rolled you both over, pinning you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress in a way that caused you to squeal lightly. Not of fear, there was never fear with Benny. He broke the kiss, his mouth moving down to your neck as his hand cupped your breast through your thin nightgown.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice clouded by a possessive rasp as his hand gripped the bare flesh of your thigh, positioning it higher onto his own hip. You responded instantly, wrapping yourself tighter against him. “Every inch of you.”

Unable to speak, you nodded, your hands moving up to grip his shoulders as he entered you with deep, powerful thrusts that made you cry out in ecstasy. Benny didn’t hold back – he couldn’t – his movements were rough and demanding as he took you, each plunge sending a shockwave through you, a white blinding sensation behind your eyes. The intensity of it was overwhelming, your senses filled with nothing but him – his touch, his scent, the way he filled you completely.

“Benny, please,” you whimpered, your words almost incoherent as your pleasure built to a peak.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling against your overstimulated flesh as his hand came up to interlock with your own, pinning it beside your head. He groaned, “I’ve got you, Bunny . . . I’ve got you.”

His words were a promise, and they filled you with a warmth that went beyond physicality. And when the wave finally crashed over you, it was all-consuming, your body tightening against his as a cry escaped your lips. Benny wasn’t far behind you, his own release hitting like a storm, and he groaned against your skin, his body shuddering from the force of it. Your vision blurred with euphoria but you grasped onto the way he said your name so softly.

Benny lowered onto his elbows, laying his upper body slack against yours as his labored breaths filled your ringing ears, his heart pounding against your own chest. For a few moments, you both lay there, each coming down off your passionate high, his hand still tightly wrapped around your own. He pressed a kiss against your temple as he whispered, “You’re everything to me, Bunny. Everything.”

You smiled as you brought your hands up to run through his hair. Benny rarely ever expressed his love in words. I love you, was not an expression he often used. Instead, he found other ways to emphasize his affections. They never ceased to fill you with a sense of belonging that you’ve never felt before.

As the heat began to cool between you, he eventually pulled out, leaning up onto his elbows again, to gaze down at you with a lazy smile playing on his face. He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in a gentle caress. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, Bunny.”

You shot him a teasing grin. “Maybe I have some idea.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before he rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you along with him so that you were draped across his chest. You rested your head there, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat as your breathing slowed.

After a few moments, Benny spoke up again, his low voice cutting through the comfortable silence. “How about we make a deal?”

You tilted your head up at him, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of a deal?”

His hand slipped beneath the denim jacket again to trace circles along your back as he mused, “Whenever you’re feelin’ low or like you’re not enough . . . you come to me, and I’ll remind you how wrong you are.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest at his words. He knew you struggled with confidence and to hear him wanting to actively help you in whatever way he could . . . well, it just made you love him all that much more. It was impossible not to fall in love with him every day when he said such things to you, when he made you feel like the most precious thing in his world. “And what about you? What if you need reminding?”

His eyes softened as they fluttered over your features. “Then I’ll come to you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like more than I am.”

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet, sealing the promise. “Deal.”

You pulled back, a hint of mischief gleaming in your eyes, and you asked, “Do I have to wear the jacket though?”

He grinned, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you into him even closer. “Definitely.”

-Tag List-

@elizabeth916 @imusicaddict @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @mrsalwayswrite

#brb gonna go take a cold shower now #or jump off a cliff #either one works #benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #austin butler #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #austin butler fandom #imagine #smut #x reader #one shot #fluff

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godsfavdarling · 17 days

Text

holding him

part of him (one-shot series), my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader summary: Spencer shows up at your door after a rough case. words: 1150 warnings: hurt/comfort? (idk. the day I learn to categorize stuff will become a national holiday in vera nation), no y/n!

You were at home, curled up with a book, trying to distract yourself. Spencer had been away on a case for several days.

You knew his job was demanding and sometimes dangerous, but you couldn't help worrying about him. All you knew was it was a rough one—so rough he didn't even have time to chat with you.

You had gotten used to his goodnight texts and phone calls each time he was away, to his reassuring presence, and now the silence was making your anxiety spike.

But he always came back. So you waited patiently trying to have good thoughts.

It was past midnight when you heard a knock on your door. You weren't expecting anyone and your heart jumped to your throat as you cautiously approached the door.

You peered through the peephole and saw Spencer standing there, looking utterly exhausted. His hair was unwashed and his shirt pulled out of his pants. He must have just got back.

You quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Spencer?" you whispered, not entirely believing he was there, standing at your front door this late.

He looked at you, eyes heavy with fatigue and something else you couldn't quite place. His clothes were slightly disheveled, and his usually neat hair was ruffled.

“Hi. Sorry. I just got back and... I should have called maybe, but I saw a light in your window and figured you weren't sleeping yet…” His voice was soft, tinged with uncertainty.

"Spencer, what's wrong?" you asked, concern evident in your tone.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just missed you. Wanted to see you.” His words were sincere, but his eyes betrayed him.

You still looked puzzled, which made Spencer regret coming here. “Sorry. I shouldn't have come. It’s really late. I’m not gonna bother you.”

“No. Spencer, wait! You are not bothering me. You just surprised me. It's okay. I was just reading. Do you want to come inside? I missed you too,” you reassured him, opening the door wider to invite him in.

“Are you sure?” His voice wavered slightly as if he needed extra reassurance.

“Yes, I'm sure. Please,” you said, your eyes softening with understanding.

“Okay. Um… what were you reading?” he asked as he stepped inside, glancing around the familiar room.

“That book you said I would like,” you replied sheepishly, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Really? And how is it?” He raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

He sank into the corner of the couch, his body visibly relaxing but his eyes still holding that haunted look. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together tightly as if trying to hold himself together.

“You were right,” you chuckled. “You’re always right.”

He then lowered his head and chuckled, avoiding your gaze.

“What?” you asked, sensing there was more to his laugh.

“Nothing,” he said, but his eyes briefly met yours before darting away again.

“Spencer, please talk to me,” you urged gently.

You wished Spencer would talk to you more about what bothered him. You understood why he didn’t; you were the same way, always keeping things to yourself, not wanting to bother anyone.

But there was something about Spencer that just made you tell him everything, always. You wished you could be the same for him, that he could find the same comfort and trust in you.

You wanted to be his safe haven, the one person he could always open up to, no matter how heavy the burden.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, but the crack in his voice was unmistakable.

“Did the case end well?” you inquired, hoping to ease him into opening up.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said, and still wouldn't look at you, but you could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Spencer…” you whispered, stepping closer.

“What?” His voice was strained, barely holding back his emotions.

“You can tell me anything. Anything you want and need, you know that?”

“I know. I just… don’t want to,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging with the weight of unspoken words.

“Okay,” you replied softly, respecting his boundaries. "Can I hold you?"

He nodded and you sat down next to him and put your arm around him.

For a while, he just sat there with your arm on his shoulder and your head resting against him.

He was breathing deeply, and you could tell he was trying to keep whatever he was feeling under wraps, probably for your sake.

You wished he could just tell you whatever was going on in his beautiful, big brain.

After a while, without a word, he pulled you closer into his arms. His embrace was firm, almost desperate as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

You held him just as tightly, letting him know without words that you were there for him, no matter what.

You wrapped your arms around him, your hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It's okay, Spencer. I'm here," you murmured, even though you had no idea what had happened.

You just knew he needed you right now.

Spencer buried his face in your neck, and you could feel the tension in his body. He was trembling slightly, and you tightened your hold on him.

He somehow pulled you even closer, and you nestled against him, feeling his heart beating erratically.

"Is it about the case?" you asked softly, not wanting to push but needing to understand what had him so shaken.

He nodded, his breath warm against your skin. "Yeah," he whispered. "I just... I didn't want to be alone."

You kissed his temple, your fingers threading through his hair. "You don't have to be. I'm here, Spencer."

He sighed, his arms tightening around you. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I don't want to talk about it. I just... need you."

You understood. You didn't push for details, knowing that he would share when he was ready. For now, you were content to hold him and never let go.

The two of you sat there in silence, the only sound the ticking of the clock and the occasional distant siren from the city outside. Gradually, you felt Spencer's breathing slow, his body relaxing against yours.

You shifted slightly, pulling a blanket over the two of you. "Do you want to lie down?" you asked gently.

He nodded, and you both lay down on the couch, still wrapped in each other's arms.

You could feel the weight of his exhaustion settling in, and you stroked his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing evened out and you knew he had fallen asleep.

As you held him, you realized how much you loved him, how much you wanted to be there for him, just as he had always been there for you.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you into sleep.

#spencer reid needs a hug #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #one shot #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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hoe4hotchner · 6 days

Note

Can I get an imagine where the reader is married to Aaron and gets hurt by an unsub and he’s worried about her and races to find her or whatever. I just want to be rescued and held by Aaron!!

Solace | [A.H]

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘈𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘞: 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤, 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘠/𝘕 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘞𝘊: 0.9𝘬

𝘔𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮😭😩

The deafening sound of sirens filled the air as Hotch raced through the chaos, his heart pounding in his chest. His usually calm, collected demeanor was fractured, barely holding together under the crushing weight of his fear. The flashing lights of police cars and ambulances cast harsh shadows across the scene, but all he could focus on was one thing: finding you.

He didn’t care about the unsub, the case, or anything else at that moment. All that mattered was you - his wife, the love of his life - somewhere out there, hurt, possibly worse. The thought twisted like a knife in his gut, each second stretching into eternity as he pushed past the swarm of agents and EMTs.

"Where is she?" Hotch's voice came out sharp, breathless, as he grabbed the arm of the nearest paramedic, he looked panicked.

"We’re treating victims inside—"

"Where is my wife?" His tone cracked, unrecognizable even to himself. The fear coursing through him was real, raw, and it took everything in him to keep from shouting. He didn’t want to think about what might happen if you were too late.

The paramedic’s eyes softened, and she motioned toward the building in the distance - smoke still rising from its shattered windows. "They brought her out a few minutes ago. She’s over there—" The paramedic had worked with Hotch several times before and knew who he was referring to.

Hotch didn’t wait to hear the rest. His legs moved on instinct, feet pounding against the pavement as he sprinted toward where the paramedic had pointed. Everything around him became a blur as he neared the edge of the chaos, his eyes scanning desperately for you.

Then he saw you.

You were lying on a stretcher, surrounded by EMTs, your body battered and bruised. Blood stained your clothes, your face ghostly and covered in small cuts, and for a moment, Hotch felt his heart stop. His world narrowed to just you - lying there so still, so vulnerable.

"Y/N," he whispered, almost afraid to say your name, as though speaking it aloud would make the reality of your injuries too real to bear.

You blinked slowly, your head turning toward the sound of his voice. Despite the pain etched across your face, your lips trembled into a small, fragile smile. "Aaron…"

He was beside you in an instant, kneeling next to the stretcher, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "I’m here. I’m right here." His voice was soft, but the tremor in it betrayed how close he was to breaking.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and Hotch's heart skipped a beat as he panicked, his hand tightening around yours. "Hey, stay with me. Please, stay with me."

You opened your eyes again, your gaze locking with his, and you gave the smallest of nods. "I’m okay… just a little… shaken."

The sight of you, injured but still fighting, broke something inside of him. He felt his throat tighten, his chest constricting with emotions he hadn’t let himself feel since Haley. Fear, helplessness, love - all of it swirled inside him as he pressed his forehead gently against yours. "I was so scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I’d lost you."

You squeezed his hand weakly, your eyes searching his. "You didn’t lose me… I’m still here."

His breath hitched as he pulled back slightly, taking in every inch of your face, every bruise, every cut. The sight of you in so much pain, and yet still trying to comfort him, made his heart ache. He gently brushed his thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped down your skin. "You’re going to be okay. We’ll get through this."

But the guilt weighed heavily on him - he hadn’t been there when you needed him most. He had failed to protect you. The thought gnawed at him, threatening to pull him under, but you tugged weakly on his hand, grounding him back to you.

"Don’t… don’t blame yourself," you murmured, your voice thin. "I knew you’d come. I knew you’d find me."

Hotch's jaw tightened as he blinked back his own tears, his heart swelling with love and relief. You trusted him, even when he doubted himself. He bent down and kissed your forehead softly, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual as if that would somehow keep you safe.

"I love you," he whispered against your skin, his voice filled with a desperate tenderness.

"I love you too," you breathed, your smile small but genuine, even through the pain.

The EMTs moved in to check your vitals again, and Hotch stepped back, his hand never leaving yours as they worked around you. He watched them carefully, not willing to let you out of his sight for even a second. He couldn’t shake the fear that something might happen, that he might lose you if he blinked.

But as the minutes passed and your condition stabilized, the panic that had been clawing at him began to ease. The doctors said you’d be okay - that your injuries, though serious, weren’t life-threatening. Relief washed over him in waves, but the fear lingered, the memory of almost losing you haunting him.

When the EMTs finally finished, Hotch sat beside you again, his hand cradling yours gently. He could see the exhaustion weighing heavily on you, your eyelids fluttering as you struggled to stay awake.

"It’s okay," he said softly, brushing your hair back from your face. "You can rest now. I’m not going anywhere."

You gave him a tired smile, your hand weakly squeezing his once more before your eyes closed, finally succumbing to sleep. Hotch watched you for a long time, his heart still heavy, but you were safe. You were alive.

And that was all that mattered.

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sashiavi · 8 months

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this has been rotting in my documents since October </3 abandoned kinktober prompt I just couldn't get out of my head :((

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♡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗♡ Wriothesley x Reader - wrio finds you stuck in a wall

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿˢ ᵀʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᴼᶠ ⁻ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ|ᴰᵘᵐᵇᶦᶠᶦᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ|ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏᵃᵍᵉ| ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦˢᵉᵈ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

Well, well. What an amusing predicament. Wriothesley certainly didn't expect his morning to turn out so… Interestingly.

The Duke makes his rounds through the Fortress of Metropide twice a day. Once in the morning and again during the young hours of the night, right when the sun sets. Not that its rays could be seen so far down under the surface of the sea, but the sentiment was there. Wriothesely would often be seen passing through the establishment's pleasantries, always making a stop by the inmate sleeping quarters, he ought to have an idea of exactly whom he had in his Fortress.. Right?

He ventures further than the guards are assigned, boots clicking coolly against the metallic flooring, echoing through the high domed ceilings of the holding pods. The Duke makes an effort into personally peeking a look into each isolated cell, sometimes striking up a small conversation with an inmate or two. The man knew all-too-well just how lonesome time in prison was, he could at least acknowledge their existences.

Speaking of, his mind wanders as he approaches a specific cell, isolated and cold - Away from the rest, segregated by the Fortress’ rule of separating cases, depending on their verdict - Wriothesley flitters back to a conversation he held the night before -

- “Now, what's a girl like you doing here in my Fortress?” Wriothesley leans himself upon the bars of your cell. The area was quiet, isolated with little inhabitants, even more so during the day time, while inmates congregated within the public area of the fortress. You jump slightly, whipping around to face him.

“Oh, you know.. Stuff..” You reply, looking a little shameless towards him. He had an inkling that you were up to no good. But he’d bite.

“How’s the Fortress treating you? Despite the whole prison aspect,” He chuckles to himself, earning your own laugh, dancing in his ears.

“It’s.. a little boring in here,” He watches your eyes wander around the cell.

“Well- At least you have that poster there, plenty of fun to stare at, I’m sure.” Wriothesley lets his eyes crinkle. The poster was large, stuck to the wall haphazardly, crooked and torn on one corner. “That thing could cover up anything,” He side comments. He watches your interest pique, head tilting in what he could only describe as thought - A stupid one he thinks.

“I wouldn't try it, you just might escape. I can't have that happen, now can I?” He winks, finally continuing his evening round throughout the section of the fortress.

All of that circles back to the now, as Wriothesley approaches your cell on his morning patrol. Something stirs in his chest, a tickling inkling. He nearly half expects you to have followed his gracious ‘advice’ - If you could even call it that.

Lo and behold, the Duke spots a special individual poking out from the cracked cell wall. Your lower half nearly dangles from the partition, practically on tippy toes, ankles surely close to giving out from the awkward position. The poster from the night before lays perfectly on the floor next to your frame, comically outlining just how bad you had messed up. He nearly chuckles at the sudden jolt of your body as he unlocks the cell door, craning it open with an obnoxious creak.

“Well.. Aren’t you something?” His heavy boots resonate through the near barren cell, echoing as he makes his way towards your predicament.

You helplessly squirm, whining out of your throat as you fruitlessly struggle in your impromptu confines. Wriothesley stares down at you in utter bemusement, his face cracking with an audacious downturned smile; not that you could see his face through the thick prison wall. Poor You. All lodged and stuck.

"Y-Your Grace! It's not what it looks like-" Your voice manages through the wall, a little muffled to the ear. However, Wriothesley was sure you hadn’t even broken into the adjacent room.

"It's exactly what it looks like. Who knew you'd actually try it." He almost laughs. It wasn’t like you were going to go anywhere - Last he checked, the Fontainian Ocean was right outside their door.

“Seemed like a decent idea..” Wriothesley has to strain to hear your mumble.

“We’re far under the water dear.. Or did you forget in your haste?” This time, he makes no effort to stifle his laugh, chuckling out loud when your form visibly slumps - Whether out of embarrassment or defeat - He was thoroughly amused.

“Hmm.. Now, what do we do with you?” Wriothesley teases. He cranes his body, bending his back with purpose, inspecting the damage you had added to the already faulty wall. How you had managed to wiggle your way in this far, he hadn't a clue. Your body noticeably tenses, you make an attempt to find a proper footing, easily failing from the height of the hole.

“P-Please Your Grace- I’ll do anything, really! Anything you want just- please don’t add time for this..”

“You’ll do.. Anything…?” Call him confused, what were you on about?

“Yes, anything- ch-chores? Solitary? I’ll be good I swear, really- Or you could..” You trail off, leaving the Duke to sit with his whirring brain for a moment. “You.. Can take me… Use me how you want- Please~ Y-You’re stressed right? U-Use me.. Do whatever you wanna-” You sounded nearly delirious. Your pretty ass shakes, brushing up against the front of his pants, a feeble attempt to press back into him.

Were you trying to bargain with him? Wriothesley was more than ready to pull you out, maybe give a little slap on the wrist and send you on your merry way. But now? The Duke couldn't help but indulge in the feeling of his pants tightening around his groin. The idea of taking your pretty self, stuck helplessly in the wall. He couldn't refuse your offer, right? Not when you sounded so eager. Not when you begged for him, for his body, for his thick aching cock, threatening to burst the seam of his trousers.

Before he can properly stop himself - Not that he was really going to - Wriothesley finds his hands on the soft swell of your ass, squeezing the flesh in his palms. You jolt under his touch, footing slipping slightly against the floor that barely brushed against your toes. Wriothesley breathes hard from his nose, hooking his fingers into the cut of your waistband, pulling the fabric over your form. He hears a whimper from beyond the wall.

“Y-Your Grace…The wall..” Your voice wobbles, body tensing against the brush of his hands.

“What? Having second thoughts?” He can’t help but tease you, squishing his fingers into the soft meat of your ass, digging his hands into your half-on pants. You did say anything. You gasp out, voice cracking with muffled little pleas. ‘Never’ you say ‘Want it bad - so bad’.

Your pants come off quickly, thrown to the floor in a crumple. Wriothesley’s hands are on you again, spreading the fat of your ass apart, marvelling at the pretty swell of your pussy hugged against your panties. He watches your plush thighs squish together, rubbing and squirming in his hold, he couldn't tell if you were wiggling away or keening into him. Not that you could go anywhere. The thought irks a chuckle out of Wriothesley. His fingers wander again, caressing over the soft skin of your ass, digging them in and jiggling cheekily. His thumbs slide over and hook into the elastic of your panties, hugging around the thick of your legs. He meanly tugs at the snappy material, pulling it up and taught, forcing the fabric to cling achingly against your cunt. His tongue instinctively pokes from behind his lips, itching to lap at the pretty wet spot that had formed over the fabric.

Wriothesley swallows thickly, eyes locked on your pretty cunt, head swimming with the short, hiccuped whines that cut through the wall. You babble and cry, repeating his title over and over - Your Grace, Your Grace - begging him to just touch. To do anything - Anything.

Your pretty voice gets to him and he finds himself nearly ripping your drenched panties off of you. He pulls them down, leaving them dangling off of your legs, showing off your wet cunt just for him. Gods, he wasn't disappointed. Your pretty pussy peeks from behind the swell of your thighs, already dripping wet, all over yourself. He swears he twitches, breath hissing through his teeth, cold on your core. The sweet jump you make - as best as you could - sends him reeling.

Wriothesley’s thick fingers tentatively poke at your dripping pussy, catching your sweet, dribbly slick on his fingertips. He awes at how it webs between his fingers, how you’d managed to work yourself up with your own babbling. Perhaps the wall aided a little - Showing off your bottom half, on full display just for him to enjoy, your own vision obscured. You wouldn't see anything coming. The thought runs straight to his cock, making itself well known again against the fly of his trousers.

Wriothesley licks against his lips, enamoured at the pretty string of your slick on his fingers, sticking between his digits like a lattice. He needs more. He wastes no time, easily slipping in two of his fingers, knuckle deep right into the doughy swell of your hole. Gods, you felt so soft. Silky to his touch, pussy pretty and plushy and warm. The squeal that muffles through the wall forces him to sink his teeth into his own bottom lip. Toying with you came to him naturally. Ever so easy with you all snug and stuck, silly enough to try and swindle him and escape your commitment to the Fortress.

“W-Wriothesley… your g-grace..” He ignores you, fingers digging into the sweet, supple curve of your cunt. He curls them downward, earning the prettiest, muffled cries through the wall. He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Wriothesley thrusts his fingers hard. Pressing meanly into the achy swollen bump in your core, getting a kick out of the lewd suckling squelch of your pussy on his fingers. Your poor legs practically give out, ankles going limp, your body holding itself up thanks to the wall hugging your body. Your voice crackles through the cement, whiney and keening, babbling dumb nonsensical begs and pleads to him. Your slick pools against his knuckles, threatening to overturn the snug fit of his rings on his fingers. He can't help but stare, locked in, mind reeling with the way your cunt wrapped around his digits. He couldn't help but wonder just what that pretty little thing would look like, all red and puffy, hugging on his thick cock.

He shamelessly lets out his own groan. Finally managing to remove his fingers, watching in awe as your slick drips off of them, connecting him to you with a thin, dribbly line.

Just a taste…

The thought zaps through his brain, tongue shamelessly poking its way past his teeth, running over his lips with a quick tilt of his head.

Wriothesley wastes no time. Wrapping his lips against your slick cunt, eyes rolling hard into the back of his skull. Fuck. Your taste on his tongue, sweet and tangy, oh so decadently coating his throat. Archons, he laps and suckles, nearly sinking his teeth into the heat of your core, into the puffy swell of your pussy lips. You keen back into him, whining never-ending, absolutely ceaseless, voice managing to pierce through the heavy material of the wall you’d stuck yourself in. That thought charges through his mind again. Poor little you, all stuck and lodged in the wall all for him to play with. The man was sure he would cream in his own pants if he kept up. He barely registers his knees beginning to ache under the heavy pressure of his own body meeting the floor. Since when had he managed to sink down? Finding his hands back on your plushy ass cheeks? Chin dribbling slobber and slick, sticking wetly to the scratchy stubble shadowing over his face? He couldn't take it anymore.

Wriothesley stands with a start, ignoring the stiff crack of his knees in favour of unbuckling his godforsaken pants. His hands are clumsy, large palms pawing at the metal of his trousers, his belt suddenly too intricate for his rough, fervent body to figure out - Not with how his mind reels, with the sight of you stuck in the wall, pretty pussy drooling, on display all for him. He barely shoves his pants to his thighs, the material wrapping around his legs in a mess. His cock weeps as it's free, slapping up into his stomach, heavy balls hanging over the waist of his trousers. He leaks beads of sticky pre, messing up the surface of his dress shirt. Wriothesley groans out loud, hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing it up and down to ease the hot tension pulsing through his thick cock vein.

He was sure you heard the cold clink of his belt, the only inkling of what was to come for you. He can't help but jerk his length off to the sight of you, shamelessly stalling just to mess with your head. No matter how much you squirm and beg, crying out as best as you could, stupidly asking for a reply to gather any kind of indication of what he was about to do to you. He stays silent.

Wriothesley meanly slaps his cock over the sticky, wet folds of your achy cunt, he chuckles when you jump again, going absolutely crazy for your every little reaction. Your pussy sounded so pretty on his tip, all wet and sticky as he slapped and rubbed against it. His fat tip slides over your warm, slick folds, craning his hips forward, catching against your sopping hole, earning him the softest gasps from within the wall. Your little jumps all but spur him all the more on.

“M’ not even in yet.. Pussy’s already tryin’ to suck me in,” Wriothesley pokes his tip against your hole, catching it against the warm, supple squeeze of your cunt. He growls through his teeth, head quickly draining of any cohesive decision making. Your babbling continues through the wall, your hips crane up into his own, wiggling and catching back on the thick head of his dick. Gods, that does it. You were insatiable, all stuck waiting for him to come along and ravage your pretty cunt with his cock.

It all urges him to dive in, give your poor cunt no warning for his thick, dribbling cock.

And so he does.

“Fuuuckk” Wriothesley can’t help but groan, finally feeling the sweet swell of your cunt enveloped the fat length of his cock. He has to bite into his thumb, just to slow himself down, let himself relish in the sweet squeeze of your cunt on his cock. Gods the way you wrapped around him, silky soft walls hugging on his length. He can't help but awe at the way your achy pussy squeezed on him, all puffy and sore from neglect. His hands find your hips, one of the only parts free from the wall.

“Your Grace~.. So big- so biiig… Filling me up- please please… please” Your silly voice cracks through the wall. Wriothesley digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips, purposely lifting your poor legs off of the floor, leveraging your body just for him to use. You squirm in his hold, easily forcing him to grip you tighter.

“Fuck, stay still. Gonna make me go crazy..” Wriothesley finds himself mindlessly rocking his thick cock into your silky cunny, humping his hips against your ass like some kind of dog in rut. Archons, he could get used to this. His own personal little wall slut, always there for him to use and abuse. His eyes roll at the idea, his snapping hard, earning a loud hiccuped cry from within the thick wall. The hot squelch that follows has him nearly drooling, mouth dropped open in a soft frown, eyes locked on to his heavy cock sliding in and out of your dumb cunt. He fucks his hips hard again, cock head smacking into the deepest parts of your pussy.

Wriothesley doesn't remember speeding up. But he sure as hell won't be slowing down - not anytime soon. Your gushy pussy squelches on his cock, dribbling down your thighs, messing all over your poor aching legs. Wriothesley’s fingers keep a hold of your hips, rocking them slightly to meet his brutal pace. He doesn't have to crane his ears to hear your pretty moans, effortlessly reaping through the solid wall, barely muffled by the sheer loudness of your voice.

Fuck, he didn’t care about the noise. Let everyone hear them. What were they going to do about it? What were you going to do about it? About getting all stuck in this wall, going against the Fortress’ protocol? Seducing the Duke of the Meropide, forcing him to fuck your dumb brains out to teach you a lesson? A growl resonates from his throat, hips snapping hard, clapping into the sweet swell of your ass cheeks as he fucks up your cunt.

Wriothesley’s eyes wander, locking down on the sweet jiggle of your ass and the puffy red throb of your cunt on his cock. A heavy breath makes its way through his nose, eyes hyper focused on the pretty, creamy ring around his length as he fucks his hips against you, slowly leaking its way on to his pants. An ache builds in his pelvis, thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock. Your moans don't stop, legs continuously squirming in his grasp, body stuck in the juncture of your silly wall. He thinks you beg, maybe you scream, crying out for him to keep going, to fill you up to cum hard and deep and mess up your insides.

Wriothesley drops your legs, forcing you to dangle, his hands press into the wall above, grinding his hips upwards, stabbing your pussy impossibly deeper with his length. Sweat beads off of his nose, his calves cramp and ache with every thrust he makes, but Gods, he wasn't going to stop. He finds himself moaning out loud, complementing the pretty noises that creak through the wall. Your pussy hugs on his length, squeezing nice and tight, wrapping around his fat tip every time he slams it back into you.

His teeth grit hard. Eyes still locked on to the messy slide of his length, in and out, in and out. He was coming close. So fucking close.

Wriothesley’s brow scrunches, relishing in the aching squeeze of your messy pussy on his cock. He couldn't take it anymore. The creamy ring he’d fucked out of you, the pretty ripple of your ass on his hips, how juicy and gushy your cunt was on his length. Gods, it was all so much. His hips snap, pace faltering, clapping his hips in heated staccatos, dragging his length out and slamming right back in with a hard smack. You cry with every thrust, silky cunt squeezing on his tip, babbling his name over and over and over.

He finally spills with a deep, hard fuck. His thick tip spurts hot rivulets of cum into your silky pussy. He messes your insides with white, fucking himself through his orgasm, humping up on your cunt, mounting your pussy with his cock. His throat growls with every fuck, sweat beads off of the tip of his nose, he watches his hot spurts leak steadily out of your hole, leaking around the base of his length. He can’t help but nestle right into your cunt, relishing in the sweet squeeze of your milky walls on him, he cranes his hips every so often, teasing his aching tip with your soft insides.

You kick and whine as eventually, he pulls out, dribbling his hot white cum down your thighs.

“No~ need more! More more!” Your muffled voice cries, pitifully wiggling within the hug of the wall, attempting to squirm your way out.

Wriothesley chuckles hotly, eying off the sweet gush of cum that drools out of your puffy pussy. His mouth waters, salivating like a dog. Surely he could take you out of the wall a little later? You’d understand. You’d been a great little wall slut for him so far, so why not indulge for as long as he wanted? Maybe he'd let you cum, spray and mess all over yourself - He could even let you out as a reward.

His finger comes up to caress over your spent hole, scooping up the leaking slick that coated your poor pussy. The cry he earns makes his half-hard cock stiffen, bobbing to life with a flex.

Archons, weren’t you something?

hnnnnnng gg g wrio wooof wOof - my longest fics are always wrio </3

Idk what possessed me to create this- I hope you enjoyed ;3

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always, Always Appreciated! Ilysm <333

♡ᵀᵃᵍˡᶦˢᵗ♡

@madsw9 @pvbbyb0y @heath-sama @shiningpaint-marbleheart @the-massive-simp @tericula @a-random-weeb @mechalily @mydarlingdahlia @finnie9479

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