#how would he feel? would he say something? or would he just be like “oh shes gotten bigger since the last yime i saw her”

[vnusoki]

LEMME TAKE THEM OFF F’ YA … ?

ᥫ᭡ synopsis. the outfit you wear that (expectedly) turn the jjk men on.

ᥫ᭡ tags. satru gojo, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna x reader. fem! anatomy. pet names (love, babe, darling, my life). high key suggestive. illusions to s3x.

ᥫ᭡ notes. cl. nanami’s one is so true, idc. no one can change my mind.👩🏽‍🌾. not proofread.

SATORU GOJO is a freak lol. definitely, when he sees you in your pj’s, shirt tousled and hair askew. he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful. maybe it’s the way you still look gorgeous when you’ve just woken up, or maybe it’s the way your pants are hanging low on your waist. so low in fact that if you were to stretch, he would see the plane of your stomach. he can’t help it really. as he hugs you from behind, burying his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. you thought he was just clingy in the mornings (not to say he wasn’t already) it was only when you could feel the large press of something in your lower back that you realised. ‘‘…can you blame me, babe? you looks so adorable in the mornings and your so pretty in that shirt. lemme help take it off for ya’, eh?’’

NANAMI KENTO doesn’t show that he gets turned on by your outfits defo. he isn’t the type to just randomly get hard from seeing you in sweat pants or something, but it’s on special date nights where your all dressed up for him in a black silk dress that he feels himself getting hard in his pants. you notice it too. the large bulge in his suit pants, you laugh. how could you blame him? you looked gorgeous, breathtaking, and attractive, he took all of him to not take you there and then. but nanami was a gentleman so he would only wrap his arms around you, pulling you close enough until you can feel him and he’s whispering into your mouth promises of a great time. ‘‘…my love, you look ethereal in that dress. we should do this more often, yes?’’

TOJI FUSHIGURO probably gets turned on by the most scandalous things ever. defo when he sees you in your bikini for the first time, the fabric clinging to your breasts, attached by a seemingly thin line of fabric, he can feel himself grow large and hard in his swimming shorts. the way the bikini clung to your curves, and the sun shone on just the right places. oh, how he couldn’t have cared less if anyone were watching. he would’ve showed you then and there what became of you if you wore such tempting clothes infront of him. it was no wonder while you were swimming, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you in. your behind colliding with something stiff, large and so familiar. ‘‘…wha’s this, babydoll? your lucky were in public. i’ll show you later why you shouldn’t wear such clothes…’’

RYOMEN SUKUNA most likely gets turned on when he sees you in cultural clothing. though the kimono you wore showed nothing of your curves or the gem that sukuna learned to love that lay beneath. he found himself gripping the table he sat at, fingers digging into the material in an attempt to stop himself from pouncing onto you and taking you there. you were his colours, white, black and red. you were practically screaming that you were his. later, when everyones left the meeting, he would grab you and drag you into his lap, his large arms wrapping around you as he peppered your neck in kisses, a promise of what to come. ‘‘…you’ve done a treacherous thing, woman. learn to hide your claim, next time…’’

© VNUSOKI 24 do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work.

[lale-txt]

❥ falling asleep besides you for the first time ↳ w/ Toji, Naoya, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Higuruma, Sukuna & Choso

a/n: this came over me like a fever dream during another episode of insomnia. some of those drabbles are a little sad, i apologize. it's what you get with all those tragics characters. reader is gn!

word count: 1.4k

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t even want to fall asleep; it’s not like he had a good night of rest ever since… well. He tells himself he’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit, stretched out on the couch next to you, his weary head in your lap. There’s still blood on his hands and on the side of his face, he’s gonna get cleaned up in just a bit, he mumbles, but the words come out heavy and drowsy, and your fingers are tangled in his hair now and your voice is this sweet whisper, baby, I love you anyway, and Toji–Toji just gives in. For the first time, sleep doesn’t come over him as a heavy veil, as if he’s drowning; for once it’s something peaceful, something quiet. Something he welcomes. Next to you, you with your fingers woven between his, you who loves even the broken parts of him, you with quiet love and reassurance that you’re still gonna be there when he wakes up again.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 hasn’t had another warm body next to him under the covers in a long time. He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until your body melts into his, one leg swung over his thighs, your arm sneaking around his waist and your head finding its spot in the crook of his neck. His cheek falls softly against your forehead when he pulls you closer, breathing in the scent of you that’s the closest to home he ever felt, pressing kisses on the crown of your head. It’s not just lust–oh, he wants to devour you, but there’ll be time in the morning–it’s the absence of loneliness and unspoken confessions. Higuruma can tell when he’s falling in love and in this moment he’s wading deep, deeper through his feelings for you, biting his tongue so they don’t spill out all over the pillows and into you. You already know anyway, and when the sun comes up again, you’ll lick them from the cave of his mouth like a prayer.

𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 can’t fall asleep, not on his wedding night, not when your mouth is whispering all those words he’s demanding from you. His cheek is pressed against your palm while he’s pinning you down, almost nuzzling into it like a touch-starved stray, golden eyes lingering on you. Say you’re mine. Again. Say who you belong to. Mine. Mine. All mine. He isn’t aware how pleading he sounds, how raspy his voice gets the more you obey, every time you sigh his name so softly into his open mouth. Naoya doesn’t care if you’re lying, as long as you wear your wedding band on your ring finger for everyone to see. You’re his to keep now, and if he could have it his way, you would be forbidden to leave this bed forever; he wasn’t aware just how much he had craved the presence of another being by his side at night, one who doesn’t leave once he had his share of pleasure. No, you’re his now, and before sleep eventually finds him, he’ll make sure to sink his teeth into you till his name rolls off your tongue like a lullaby. 

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 doesn’t let go of your hand; he’s afraid it’ll go cold if he allows himself to let his guard down even for one second. This isn’t how he had imagined spending the first night with you. Not under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, not with your body wrapped in gauze and machinery monitoring your heart rate. It dawns on him as he’s sitting on your bedside–how attached he’s gotten to you, then: How he had almost lost you today. He squeezes your hand tighter and sighs, his weary head sinking down on the mattress. Your fingers twitch and find their way into his hair, combing through it weakly. As if they say, it’s okay, I’m alive, you’re not to blame. So please don’t leave and take all your love with you. And Nanami takes your hand once again and kisses your fingertips, pressing promises against your skin, promises of a future where you and him can just be, one where he can finally put all of these feelings down, down in your open and gentle palms for you to keep.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is clingy throughout the day, but even more so at night. He doesn’t like the eerie quiet that settles in once the sun has sunken, not when he can listen to your steady breathing next to him instead, so naturally he feels a rush of joy when you push your futons together for the first time. His heart is beating way too fast to find sleep now, his eyes taking in everything about your sleeping figure, from the way your chest rises and falls to how your nose scrunches slightly for a moment. Choso wants to know what you’re dreaming about, what colors your dreams are, and if he’s ever in them. He wants to engrave himself into your being, wants to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. His kisses feel light against your skin, careful not to wake you but enough to fill his desire. Choso loves you with his entire being, and sleep is merely an obstacle, cutting away from your time spent together–though he must admit, his eyes flutter shut quite easily in your embrace.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 realizes that his idea of ‘sweets in bed’ now has a double meaning, seeing you sprawled out in his sheets with candy wrapping paper clenched between your fist and more of it lying on the floor. Cute, he can’t help but murmur as he lays down next to you on his side, mustering you with an amused smile on his lips. When he told you to knock yourself out on the sweet souvenirs he brought, he didn’t assume you would take it that literally. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the powdered sugar that’s still stuck there, and Gojo could swear he never tasted anything sweeter than this when he brings it to his tongue. He gently replaces the trash you hold onto in your sleep with his fingers, woven between yours, and pulls you close to him, his tall figure embracing you; and for the first time in a long time, Gojo feels a wave of calm wash over him, allowing him to exhale and sink into a dream almost as sweet as you.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn’t know why he keeps entertaining your antics. Sharing a bed, sleeping together side by side? How utterly foolish, but as to be expected from a mere human; they’ve always been like this, seeking comfort and warmth when they’re the most vulnerable. Of course a predator like Sukuna wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping safe and sound. Yet still; he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you, wrapped up in his embrace, four arms holding you in place on top of him. Everyone else would freeze in fear, but you? You snore quietly without a single worry in the world, knowing you have a king watching over you in your slumber. Sukuna huffs but still brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Maybe he’ll tell Uraume that you’re off the menu, for now. As long as you know your place–in his embrace, wearing his marks with pride, providing a sense of comfort Sukuna had never known before. Fool, he mutters and rests his chin on top of your head, not sure if those words were for him or you. 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 doesn’t question when you knock on the door of his dorm room, asking for shelter after a particular nightmare. He hasn’t found any sleep yet anyway. When he lifts up the covers for you to slip under, he’s surprised that you don’t even hesitate to do so, wrapping yourself around his body as if it was molded for that only. Geto can tell that you’re trying not to tremble, but the nightmare still lingers. He knows it all too well. His fingers brush through your hair when he pulls you closer to his chest, as if this could prevent you from falling apart–though deep down he’s aware that he might be the one on the verge of breaking. You know it too, don’t you? Geto is tired, oh, so tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t fix, and he can’t help but wonder if this would also be the last time that you’re in his arms, clinging onto someone who is long gone; a version of him that he shed together with his dream of letting himself love you.

[taeyongdoyoung]

good for you

summary: your boyfriend is literally perfect and treats you like a princess but you want him to completely lose control 😇 pairing: mingyu x reader genre: smut, tooth-rotting fluff warnings: established relationship, home intruder roleplay, consensual somnophilia, safeword exists but isn't used, rough sex, no lube, no protection, neck biting, size kink (no one is surprised), titty slapping, sir kink, spanking, praise+degradation, slight dumbification, subspace, pet names, shy dom gyu, crying, mentions of pee (non-sexual context), aftercare!!! word count: 1.7k

You and Mingyu have not been together for long but from what you know so far he’s the sweetest guy you’ve ever dated. He treats you like a princess, brings you flowers or chocolates with or without occasion, drives you around everywhere, gets stuff from the top shelf for you and is basically the kindest soul to ever step on this Earth. You are, of course, beyond grateful for that, and do your best to show him how much you appreciate him every chance you get.

However, a little demon inside your brain kind of wants him to not treat you as if you are made of glass all the time. While the sex is great and Mingyu makes sure that you reach an orgasm, you can’t help but fantasize about him going rough on you. Even when his friends tease (bully) him, he almost never uses his height and strength to his advantage, instead accepting everything with a good-natured smile.

But you would be lying if you said that the idea of him just snapping doesn’t excite you. Nevertheless, you are not sure how to bring this up to him. You don’t want to sound ungrateful or for him to feel insecure about his abilities because he’s perfect the way he is. It’s your filthy brain that needs fixing. Still, you decide that honesty is the key to a healthy relationship and you gather all your courage to approach him about this.

“Hey, Mingyu, can we talk about something?” you ask one evening after you two have finished having dinner.

His eyes are immediately filled with worry. Judging by the tone of your voice, this is something serious. So far, your relationship has been lighthearted and devoid of any problems. Mingyu thinks that it’s going great but apparently he’s been fooling himself.

“What’s wrong?” he wants to know. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

“What?! Of course not! Do you want to break up with me?” you panic.

“No, no, please,” Mingyu shakes his head fervently.

“Good, good,” you exhale in relief.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Um, it’s kinda embarrassing but I don’t want to keep any secrets from you.”

“Secrets?” Mingyu blinks in curiosity.

“Yeah…You know how you’re always super gentle with me, both outside and inside the bedroom?”

“Uh, sure? What about it?”

“Can you consider…not doing that all the time?”

“In what sense?” Mingyu raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“In the sense that…can you fuck me harder without holding yourself back? You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

“Oh…” he finally realizes what you’re getting at. Because he doesn’t say anything rightaway, you hurry to explain.

“Not that I don’t like how sweet and patient you are with me! It’s more than amazing, I just thought that…maybe it’d be fun to try something new. If it’s not your thing, forget I mentioned it, I’m so-“

“It’s not that it doesn’t sound appealing. But I’m afraid that if I’m not holding myself back, I’ll end up hurting you,” Mingyu confesses, surprising you.

You reach your hand out across the table to hold his comfortingly.

“You won’t. I know how caring you are, Mingyu. Which is why I would trust you with something like this. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Did you have a particular scenario in mind or do you want me to surprise you?”

“Surprise me.”

Mingyu smirks sinisterly. Oh God. What kind of demon have you unleashed?

🎀🎀🎀

A few days later, you receive a text from Mingyu while you’re walking home.

Mingyu: Busy tonight?

You: All yours

Mingyu: Unlock your door at exactly 10pm and wait for me in your bed. If I’m not there by 10:30, lock it again, alright?

You: Yes, sir 🛐

Mingyu: That’s my good girl.

Fucking hell. Your heart flutters upon reading these words. He’s called you that before but in this context, it thrills you even more than usual.

Mingyu: Safeword is butterfly. Use it if something is too much, if you’re in pain or for any other reason that brings you discomfort, okay?

You: I’m gonna need a safeword?!?!

Mingyu: I hope it doesn’t come to that but just in case. See you in a couple of hours, baby.

You’re too excited for tonight. You take a long shower. You wear your prettiest lingerie and make your room as cozy as possible. Not that it matters. You spray perfume over your neck and wrists. You put on some lipbalm and mascara. You want to look good for him. But the truth is, you had an exhausting week and already feel sleepy. You unlock the door at 10pm, climb into your bed and…

Somehow you fall asleep. You feel disoriented as your consciousness is slowly returning to you. You feel too hot, too weak and too full. Fuck. What’s going on? You don’t dare to open your eyes for fear of ruining the sweeter than sleep reality.

“Dumb baby couldn’t wait for me and fell asleep all by herself?” Mingyu’s deep voice coos in your ear.

In your half-awake state you feel your boyfriend’s cock thrusting deep inside of you, taking you rougher than ever before. Well, you asked for it.

“So cute and helpless, leaving the door unlocked for anyone to enter and use you like a whore,” Mingyu murmurs.

He rubs your clit vigorously while still fucking into you, making you wetter than ever before.

“Nnghh,” you whimper drowsily.

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep,” Mingyu whispers. “I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything.”

He squeezes your boobs, leaning down to bite your neck like a hungry wolf. And here, you thought your boyfriend was just a cute puppy.

“S-so big,” you cry out pitifully.

“You can take it, slut,” Mingyu says confidently.

You don’t offer a verbal response but your body speaks for itself. Mingyu is almost splitting you in two but your pussy is swallowing him up greedily.

“H-harder, p-please,” your mouth seems to have a mind of its own because it speaks against any common sense.

Mingyu slaps your tits, a little hesitant at first.

It stings but it’s such a sweet hurt you’re already addicted to it.

“Like this?” he asks, making sure it’s okay.

“M-more,” you beg, forgetting all inhibitions. “Use me.”

He does it a couple of more times, while still fucking you roughly. His dick is so enormous that you’re certain you’ll be sore tomorrow but it will be more than worth it. You lose count of how many times you’ve come around his cock. Sliding out and flipping you on your belly, he takes you from behind, too, spanking your ass and gripping your hair.

“Such a good girl, just for me, right? No one else gets to see you like this, yeah?” Mingyu’s words come out rushed, almost in trance.

“All yours, sir,” you promise.

Mingyu seems satisfied with your answer because he spills his seed inside of you seconds after. You follow his lead and eventually, your knees give out, your mind goes blank and you collapse on the bed.

“Baby?” Mingyu checks up on you worriedly.

You are not capable of responding, brain barely functioning anymore. He moves you gently to see your face. Your eyes are open but unblinking, which scares the shit out of him.

“Come back to me, my sweetheart, please,” Mingyu cries out, hugging you tightly.

A couple of moments later, you still don’t remember your own name but something more important to you leaves your lips:

“Mingyu?” you whisper cautiously.

“Oh, angel,” Mingyu sighs. “I’m right here.”

Then, you suddenly burst into tears. Overwhelmed by how good he made you feel and how much he cares about you, your fully emotions take over.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?” Mingyu positions you so that you are sitting on his knee and rocks you gently back and forth.

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m s-so happy.”

“You poor thing,” Mingyu chuckles softly. “Can’t believe you worked so hard to doll yourself up and make the room smell nice. You knew I was gonna ruin your lingerie anyway, didn’t you?”

“I just wanted to look good for you,” you admit with a pout.

“You always do. My best girl,” Mingyu kisses you sweetly and wraps you in his warm embrace, lulling you back to sleep.

🎀🎀🎀

The next morning, you wake up to the feeling of wanting to pee so badly. You manage to climb out of bed but barely make one step and trip on the ground. Uh oh. You got fucked so good you literally can’t walk.

Awakened by the loud thud, Mingyu is by your side in no time.

“What happened?”

“You happened,” you reply truthfully, but you don’t blame him because you brought this upon yourself.

“Oh…” Mingyu understands what you mean. “Did you want to use the toilet?”

“Uh, yeah. Gosh, this is so mortifying.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“I was literally deep inside of you a few hours ago, get over yourself,” Mingyu laughs and lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bathroom.

“Are you gonna stare at me?!” you ask in embarrassment.

“Might as well,” he laughs but gives you some privacy, even though there is no need to be shy after all the things you’ve done together.

After that, he insists on doing everything for you. You tell him you are perfectly capable of brushing your own teeth but nope, Mingyu wants to do that, as well. And honestly? It feels too good to reject.

He even makes breakfast and brings it to bed so you can share it together. As you take the first bite and drink the first sip of coffee for the morning, the feelings come crashing once again. And you start crying even harder than last night.

“Oh, baby, what is it?” Mingyu wants to know, as he brushes your hair behind your ear and wipes your tears.

“N-nothing, you’re just so amazing and kind I feel extremely touched.”

“You do realize this is literally the bare minimum, right?” Mingyu seems shocked. He just made pancakes. It’s not some heroic act, in his humble opinion.

“It’s so rare to find a lovely guy like you, though,” you admit.

“Well, my good girl deserves only the best,” he smiles shyly and kisses your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning wider than ever before.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll want to be good for you forever.”

“I’m counting on it.”

The End

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

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

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

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

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

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

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

“That one is complicated.”

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

“You don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

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

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

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

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

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

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

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

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

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

He looks good. Almost too good. 

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

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

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

“Mm… why not both?”

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

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

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

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

“You sound sure of yourself.”

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

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

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

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

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

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

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

“So business as usual?”

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

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

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

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

You cover his hand with your own. 

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

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

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

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

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

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

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

“Every time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses your palm. 

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

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

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

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you gonna do after that?”

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

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

“Yes, please.” 

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

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

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

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

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

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

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

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

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

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

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

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

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

“I…”

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

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

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

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

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

He knows. 

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

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

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

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

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

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

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

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

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

24 hours go by. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

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

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

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

“What? Why?”

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

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

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

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

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

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

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

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

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

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

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

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

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take a wild guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have to?”

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

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

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

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

“And I’m good. So...”

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

You groan in frustration. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to come inside you?”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“’M not.”

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

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

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

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

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

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

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you find it?”

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

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

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

He gets the general sentiment. 

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

“Mhm!”

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

“Yes,” you cry. 

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

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

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

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

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

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

He’s barely kidding. 

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

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

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But…?”

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

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

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

“You regret your first time?” 

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

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

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

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

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

You want to scream bloody murder. 

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

Maybe that’s worse. 

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

“I didn’t realize you…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight.”

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo

[lnlightning81]

Positive P2 [LN4]

Summary : Surprising Lando after a race with the results to your pregnancy test

Pairing/s: Lando Norris x Reader

Word Count:

Warning/s: Pregnancy, Talk of not being able to have kids

Watching Lando with kids has always been a beautiful sight. However, watching Lando with Mila and Athena was a totally different experience. There was a different connection watching the two of them. Normally, kids cried when they saw Lando because their hero was right in front of them, but with Mila and Athena, he was just ‘Lala’ and not Lando Norris. 

The video of Lando playing with Mila when she was just a little baby throwing his phone about the place had started to circulate your social media; it only made your baby fever start to grow.

You were due to meet Lando at the paddock as he had gone a little early for the media and you just wanted to lie in but it wasn’t until you felt ill that you messaged Lando asking if he had time to quickly come back to the hotel after stopping at the shop for something. To which he replied obviously still in that state of life where you could ask him to murder someone, and he would. 

There was very little chance you could actually be pregnant with not only you and Lando being extremely careful but with you being told that there was little chance of you ever getting pregnant throughout your life but with your baby fever and how you were feeling everything pointed towards that actually maybe coming true. 

Lando had wanted to wait and see the results but you knew that he couldn’t or he’d get fined so you forced him out of the hotel room telling him that he’d be the first person to know. Except he wouldn’t be. If the test came back positive, you had the perfect way to tell him. 

But when you saw that positive result that’s when you panicked, you never thought you’d actually see the day when that test actually came back positive after many years of being told it would never happen. 

Now, standing in the Mclaren motorhome, you still hadn't told Lando the results. You didn’t want to stress him out before a race. Never mind a race when he was starting on the front row with the chance of winning but you did tell Zak knowing the perfect way to tell him after a good or bad race and hopefully he’d be happy with the news. 

Lando finished P2 just as he started. No one was getting past Max Verstappen any time soon, so it was basically a win for him, and you knew he’d say that when asked about it. Zak waved you over, and you walked over to the pit wall standing behind him as he placed his headphones over your ears and pressed the radio button for Lando’s car. Nodding to you with a smile 

“Hey baby. That’s a positive P2” You hummed, hoping he’d catch on to what you were saying without Sky or F1TV or any other showings catching it. 

“Positive?” He asked with a frown. You could hear the frown on his face

“Wait? What are you doing on the radio?” Now very confused as to everything 

“Yep. Positive P2” You smiled

“Zak let me tell you your position for the day” You looked at Zak, who was smiling at you 

“Oh my god, Y/N. This is brilliant. I love you so much!” He exclaimed 

“I’ll see you at the podium baby” You gave Zak his headphones back 

“Got a podium to get to. Let’s go” He smiled, and you walked with him. Zak’s more than just the CEO to you and Lando. He was always a phone call away if anything went wrong or if you didn’t travel out to a race and couldn’t get a hold of Lando the next best person to call was Zak because he’d always answer. 

Zak would invite you, Lando, Oscar, and Lily out for food whenever he got the chance or would send you little gifts during Christmas or your birthday. He was kinda like a father figure to you both. Standing watching the podium next to Zak, you could see how big the smile on Lando’s face was compared to normal. 

Meeting Lando back in his driving room, you were instantly wrapped in a hug with his hands landing on your stomach as he kissed your neck from behind 

“I can’t believe it, baby. You’re serious, right? We’re going to have a baby? I got the message, right?” He asked, and you nodded 

“I’m very serious. We're going to have a baby. I’m so glad you got that message, though. I was a little worried you wouldn’t understand what I was saying” You smiled, turning in his arms as he kissed you properly this time. 

“Oh my god, a little baby. Oh love you’re parent’s. They’re gonna be so happy they’re getting a grandbaby” Lando was very excited as he basically jumped around the room like a little kid in a sweet shop. 

“If it’s okay with you, I don’t want to tell anyone for a few months” you whispered, sitting down on the couch in his driver's room. Lando looked over at you

“Whatever you want” He smiled, and you nodded 

“After being told I probably would never have kids, I don’t want to tell people. There’s a risk that everything might go wrong and I don’t want to tell everyone we’re having a kid to be reminded that actually we aren’t” You explained quietly and he wrapped you in a hug 

“Whatever you want to do we will do darling but I do know that I love you very much and whatever happens will never change my mind but we’ll do it together” He smiled kissing you around your face causing you to giggle from his stubble tickling your skin 

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[faetreides]

oooh art would be lowkey freaky. i feel like he’s also a super munch. he’ll let you sit on his face for hours!!

cw: 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, ambiguous era, afab reader, slight brat!reader, teasing, like two spanks (+ one instance of ass play + very slight anal fingering)

Art devours you like no one else ever could, burying his tongue into your pussy for hours on end. If he could, he’d do it 24/7. He does it enough as it is away. As a wake up call, a way to say goodnight, in the shower, on your period, from behind while you’re cooking, in a pool chair, you get the gist. If you asked what he favorite sexual act to do with you was, there’s not a single doubt in your mind that it would be slurping up your pussy.

You’ve never sat on his face before though, too scared to break his neck after reading a story on your phone about that happening to someone else. It’d be a real mood killer to come down from you high to see your boyfriend dead to the world, literally. You didn’t talk about it again after the initial awkward discussion that ended with you dismissing it. But he just looks so hot in the early morning sun, a rare sleepy day in where you actually get to marvel at what Art looks like when he’s relaxed.

You bite your lip and shake him gently, trying not to shy away and curl up into a ball when he eventually groans and rubs his eyes open.

“Morning, baby.” He grunts in his husky morning voice.

He immediately puckers his lips for a kiss that you provide with less casual confidence than usual. His brow furrows, and he caresses the inside of your wrist with his thumb.

“What’s up? Are you hungry?” He asks you, thinking that you’re needing him to run and get you coffee or something.

You say no and play with your hands, the ache you’ve been feeling between your thighs only grows the more you look into his eyes.

“I just…. I need you.” You whisper.

Art squints his eyes, not sure what you mean. Then he recalls how he usually wakes you up in the morning, “Oh. You need me, huh?”

You nod and spread your legs, giving a view of your bare pussy. You took your underwear off earlier when the feeling got to be too much.

“Can you say it for me, angel? Tell me what you need and i’ll give it you.” He grins, teasing you. “If you woke me up, you must need whatever it is really bad.”

You roll your eyes and straddle him, sighing in bliss when he latches onto your hips. You’d put up more of a fight if you weren’t so horny, but you’ll let Art have his fun this time.

“I need you to eat me out.” You hold back the ‘obviously’ that you want to tack onto the end of your sentence.

Art’s grin widens and he makes you rock back and forth on his clothed bulge. He waist until you’re juices are wetting the fabric of his underwear before he pats your thigh, telling you to get off. You don’t budge and allow him to get into the typical position. Instead you lift your hips and shuffle up the bed until you’re hovering over his face.

“I want you to eat me out like this.”

Art’s grin falters as his eyes widen in shock for a second, you must really be pent up if you’re being this bold. He’s not complaining, he’d been waiting patiently for you to get comfortable enough to use him like a chair. You’re enough of a brat to change your mind if he acts too smug about getting what he wants even if you want it too though, so he tones it down.

“Get to it then, angel.” He smirks, his words trailing off into a satisfied sigh. “Give me a taste of this pretty pussy, don’t hold back.”

He flattens his tongue expectantly and leans his head back against the pillows.

Before you can even hesitate, Art snakes his arms under your legs and yanks your body down, making you drop your weight on him. You yelp but he doesn’t let you squirm away from his mouth. The sensation of his tongue lying still beneath you feels strange for a second, but a slap to your ass snaps you out of it enough to start moving your hips.

You shout and grab onto the headboard, getting yourself off on your boyfriend’s face. You play with one of your tits as you start to bounce on him, craving more of his tongue.

You reach down and tug on his hair, suddenly feeling too shy to make eye contact. He hasn’t looked away from you this entire time, and your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the thought of how messy you already look.

He winks at you, not moving at all and letting you take your fill. Well that’s not what you want anymore, so you tug his hair harder and beg.

“Please, baby, just tongue fuck me already. Don’t you want to? ‘m getting tired…” You whine, pouting down at him.

You stop your hips when you don’t get an answer. Art’s eyes crinkle in delight at your predicament, but he gives in to you. He always does, you just don’t like when he puts you on the spot and makes you wait like this. Secretly you kinda enjoy how he acts in bed, but you like putting up a fight way more.

Art curls his tongue around your clit and you throw your head back. He gives the throbbing bud a few customary sucks and then he jabs his tongue into your wet hole. You moan and grab onto his hair, bouncing on him in time with his tongue’s short thrusts. You roll your hips down against the slick appendage and cry out when it hits the right spot, grasping onto the headboard for dear life.

“Oh my god, feels so good! Wanted you in my pussy, need you there, sucking me dry-what the fuck, yes!” You squeal, firmly keeping his face nuzzled into your pussy and your thighs around his head.

His hands are playing with your ass while he eats you out. You’re mid bounce when you feel one of his thumbs prod at your ass hole, and the barest hint of having two of your wholes filled gets you moving faster on him. He spread your cheeks wider and kneads the flesh, jiggling them in his hands.

Art responds in kind and slides his tongue around whatever parts of your juicy pussy he can, scooping up your juices and guzzling them down as he stabs his tongue through your sopping folds.

You’d normally pull him back by his hair when you got close, not wanting to get him too dirty with your cum. But now you’re tightening your thighs over his ears and and stuffing his nose into your trimmed pubic hair, bouncing like your life depends on it.

Art spanks you again when your walls spasm around his tongue thirty seconds later. He gulps your orgasm down with love in his eyes and a heartbeat in his dick. He coos at your soft sniffles and massages your trembling thighs when you get up and collapse beside him.

“Thanks for breakfast, angel, I’d rate it 5 stars”. He laughs, half jokingly and half seriously.

“Whatever, perv.” You weakly smack him on the chest and groan, trying to keep your soul in your body. “Go get coffee… please.”

[hanafubukki]

Summary: Despite his flirtatious acts and many years of living, even Lilia Vanrouge gets nervous while trying to court you.

Imagine if Lilia was awkward and shy when it came to romance.

Lilia has traveled and gained experience when it came to physical intimacy through the centuries.

But this feeling between you two? It was different. It wasn’t something he had experience with. Not something he can just do whatever he wants.

Well…he can but…this feeling in his stomach stopped him. A feeling that’s similar and yet different from his time on the battlefield.

Could he be nervous? Over something like this? At his age?

He usually acts all charming and flirtatious. He knows how to get a reaction out of you, but that was before you two started courting.

Now he doesn’t know how to react. The most embarrassing part of it all? The other three noticed.

Which makes it worse.

Malleus teasingly, “Oh? Are you having trouble romancing YN? How unlike you. Should I message grandmother and ask her how she had courted grandfather?”

Silver, direct as ever, “Just tell YN how you feel about them as you usually do.”

Sebek hesitantly, “Do you want some help from popular novels?”

Meleanor strike him with thunder now.

…she’s probably laughing at him from the stars with Levan.

But Lilia is not the type to give up, didn’t kids these days say to fake it till you make it?

He can do this.

Nope.

He can’t do this.

He would rather be on the battlefield right now.

It didn’t help the other three were watching nearby, making sure he didn’t run away.

Malleus ready to smite him if he hurt you in any way.

He would never do that.

He cared for you too much to do so.

But he needed a minute!

“Lilia?”

Shit.

He was so overtaken in his thoughts he didn’t realize the door had opened in front of him.

Lilia straightened up.

He took you in.

His heart rate increased.

His mouth felt dry.

His hands sweaty.

Fuck.

Oh Great Thorn Fairy help me.

I had this thought one day and it just wouldn’t leave me. Ahhhh it’s such a funny and cute thought if Lilia’s this way when you two start courting 💚🫶🫶 I love it so much 💞💞

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: loser!jeonghan, sub!jeonghan, virgin!jeonghan, afab reader, reader is a lil bit of a pervert (for jeonghan duh), smut, handjob, body worship, etc.

wc: 1573

a/n: i had never considered loser!jeonghan til anon mentioned him but lmk if u guys would like a pt. 2!!

masterlist

yoon jeonghan had to be the prettiest boy you had ever seen.

he had the cutest smile, the biggest doe eyes you'd ever seen, – hidden behind the nerdiest rims known to man, but still – the most adorable yet dorkish smile, and fuck, his hair was the most angelic shade of blonde and hung down to his shoulders.

it was a mystery to you how the boy didn't have all the girls swooning for him. okay, so maybe he was socially awkward and a bit of a loser, but who didn't love themselves a cute loser?

since the moment you'd spotted him in your physics course, you'd been wanting a chance to get him alone and do every depraved act known to man on the boy.

you knew be was a virgin (or at least that's what your mutual friend josh had told you), so getting the chance to rob him of his innocence was something you couldn't stop thinking about. and you also knew he liked you back (information also courtesy of joshua).

technically, you couldve already approached him and propositioned yourself to him, but you didn't want to scare him off. no, you wanted it to happen naturally. except that every passing day, you became more and more desperate for the boy, almost unable to pay attention in class in favor of staring at him.

then god finally smiled down on you and granted you the perfect chance to defile the boy.

it wad kind of embarrassing, really, the way in which you immediately ran to the other side of the classroom and pushed joshua out of his seat in favor of partnering with jeonghan for the final project. joshua simply chuckled, knowing this day was going to come eventually. jeonghan, on the other hand, seemed frozen in place, staring at you with wide eyes and a cute blush on his cheeks.

thank god for public decorum, because you would've taken him right then and there.

fast-forward to the end of the class and you had managed to make plans to meet at your dorm the following day. it had taken some effort to get conversation out of jeonghan, as he would refuse to make any form of eye contact and shyly stare down at his notebook instead. luckily for you, you were extroverted enough for the both of you.

that was how you ended up in your dorm room almost a whole day later, dressed down in your skimpiest loungewear and with a few snacks prepared on your coffee table (you had also stocked up on condoms just in case, but those were likely to be used later on).

opening the door, you welcomed the pretty boy, holding back a smile at the way his eyes widened at your lack of clothing. you decided not to be too forward and let him in, directing him to the couch and taking a seat by his side.

you only managed to do some work for less than an hour before you suggested a break.

"jeonghannie, don't you wanna take a quick break? i can make you a tea or something," you suggested.

"o-oh, no, that's fine. we can take a break, though, if, if you want," he stammered, wincing at himself due to how clearly nervous he was.

"sorry," he sighed, "i-i'm not usually this awkward, i swear. you can ask joshua."

"oh?", you tilted your head to the side, turning to face him on the couch, "what's making you feel awkward? is it me?", you asked.

"no! it's just," he adjusted his glasses, taking another breath, "y-yeah, you make me kind of nervous," he admitted.

you lightly laid your hand on his thigh, causing an intake of breath from him, "you don't have to be nervous," you leaned closer, "can i tell you a secret?", you whispered.

he leaned closer to you, turning so you could whisper into his ear, yet clearly shivering at the proximity.

"you make me a little nervous too."

turning back around, he opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly not knowing what to say.

interrupting, you continued, "you're just so pretty ... been wanting to build up the courage to talk to you all semester," you pouted, lifting your hand to caress at his cheek, humming when he furrowed his eyebrows and instinctively pressed his cheek to your hand.

"hannie ... can i call you hannie?", you asked.

"yes, c-call me whatever you want," he stammered.

you got even closer, noses almost touching as you stared down at his lips, "can i kiss you, hannie?"

"y-yes, please. please kiss m-"

you cut him off with a soft kiss against his top lip, letting your tongue come out at the end and give it a teasing lick.

groaning far too deeply for a simple kiss, jeonghan's hands became fists on his lap, eyebrows still furrowed as if he were in pain.

he was just the cutest thing. and you needed to do something about how frustrated he was making you feel.

again, you pressed your lips to his own, this time going for a heavier kiss. both your hands went to hold his face in your hands, positioning him so you could kiss him how you liked. he was shy in copying your movements, forcing you to be a bit more aggressive in your kisses so he'd try and follow along.

eventually he came to obey your silent demands and open his mouth for you, allowing his tongue to play with your own in a timid way. unable to control yourself at how adorable you found his shyness, you came to scoot onto his lap, straddling him as he gasped into your mouth.

"hands on my hips, hannie," you mumbled against his lips, placing his lip hands on your hips.

his nimble fingers would dig into your skin any time you suckled on his tongue, causing you to do it over and over again.

you made out for a while, with him eventually being able to match the pace of your kisses and even letting his tongue dance with your own.

"hannie ..." you breathed out, "can i make you feel good? hmm?", you muttered, hands coming to unbutton his shirt, receiving no complaint from him.

"w-what are you gonna do to me?", he stuttered, letting you remove his shirt altogether.

your fingers faintly trailed up and down his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. he moaned and shivered when they made their way to his nipples, toying with them meanly.

"so fucking pretty ..." you muttered almost to yourself, "just wanna see you, bunny. wanna touch you and make you feel good. is that okay, pretty?"

the twisting and pulling of his nipples continued, making his eyebrows furrow and his mouth open with heady breaths, "yes ... do whatever you want, just- please."

thanking him with a kiss, you leaned closer to him, letting your hands slowly trail down to his pants, sneaking a hand past the belt you so-easily undid in the process. his cock was already hard, begging for you to pull it out from beneath his boxers and play with it.

stroking him with both hands while your mouth made its way to lick at his sensitive chest, you hummed in satisfaction at any and every moan and gasp of pleasure the pretty boy let out.

"do you like this, bunny? like my hand on your dick?"

"it's so good ... feels so fucking good, i- please dont stop," he whined, glasses foggy due to his heavy breath.

your mouth made its way back to his own, licking at his open lips and speeding up the movements of your hand. you knew he'd likely cum very soon, with this clearly being his first assisted orgasm. but it didn't matter. all you wanted was to see the pretty boy fall apart as a result of your touch.

"i'm gonna- fuck, i'm sorry, i'm gonna cum ... c-can i? please, need to- fuck, please," he pleaded pathetically, voice getting so high and breathy.

it made you lose your mind, the way he truly became the embodiment of a pretty angel feeling the touch of a woman for the first time. a sick part of your brain wanted to make sure you were the only person to ever touch him. you wanted him to come back to you again and again, needing your touch.

"cum, bunny. be a good boy and cum, okay? it's okay, just wanna make you feel good," you whispered encouragingly into his ear, smiling when you felt him immediately let go.

"t-thank you thank you thank you, oh, it's so- thank you, it's so good, so fucking- so fucking good," he cried as he trembled under you, head thrown back and eyes glassy.

you kissed his neck throughout his high, whispering encouraging words against his skin as he came down from it, thanking you consistently until the end.

"thank you, that was- that was amazing," he breathed shyly.

"yeah? you were so good, baby. glad it felt good," you smiled as you ran your fingers through his long hair.

"uh, i- what about you," he muttered, unable to make eye contact.

"that's okay, baby. i can show you how to make me feel good next time."

"next time?", he asked with wide eyes and the ghost of a smile.

"yeah, baby. thought that was it? no, pretty," you responded condescendingly, "i'm gonna keep you all to myself now."

[scudevils]

thick thighs save lives — QH43

pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: essentially smut with minimal plot (easing myself back into writing), thigh riding (🤭🤭), swearing, playoff beard representation, pretty much me just loving big thighs icl, sappy sap is back (i would say i’m sorry but im not), not proofread!!

synopsis: name a better match than hockey players and thick thighs [1.8k]

hockey players and thick thighs, a match made in heaven some way would say, their wives would anyway and you could definitely attest to it.

you were obsessed from the moment you'd started dating, wether it was not so innocent glances when he'd be wearing just slightly too short shorts, the ones that rode up when he sat down and especially when he wore trunks at the pool. or when you had no impure thoughts as you sat on his lap, maybe it was watching tv, sharing a seat whilst at the lakehouse or just whenever you wanted to be close to him.

long story short, you liked quinn's thighs, and he was more than aware of it.

you were staring, but of course you were, years after you'd first begun dating and quinn and you were still deep in the honeymoon phase, you were as smitten as a woman on her wedding day if what your mother would say. the weatherman was right for once, mid 20s felt like paradise after the cold winter, and you were all out enjoying the sun whilst it lasted.

the season had ended a few weeks ago, the canucks being knocked out of the second round of the playoffs by just a goal and you were sad for quinn, his second season as captain of the team and you knew he wanted to replicate the success of the first. but unfortunately, things weren't meant to be and he was home earlier than expected, not that you were complaining.

you felt like a damn perv, eyeing up your boyfriend from the deck chair across from him, you knew he needed this time to relax, destress from the season, and what he didn't need was you wanting to fuck him every two seconds. but he was just as bad, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of your chest the second you’d gone out in your bikini.

quinn's head was back against the chair, eyes shut underneath his dark lensed glasses as he faced the sky, the sun shining on his already pink-tinged cheeks, you did warn him to wear suncream, his hands were comfortably sat on his stomach, but all you could look at were his short-clad thighs, the bright blue material standing out against his slightly tanned skin in a way that had you going feral.

you wanted him, needed him in every sense of the word. perhaps there was something wrong with you, the way you couldn't help but squeeze your legs shut as you thought about the way you wanted to use his thigh. "can feel you starin'" his voice broke through the silence, your thoughts punctured by reality when he tilted his head so his eyes could meet yours.

"admiring." you corrected him, a playful smile toying on your lights as he let out a laugh, sitting up and you couldn't help the glance towards his thighs, spread out across both sides of the chair and you were almost certain he was doing it on purpose.

his beard had grown out since the regular season had finished, still not having shaved it since they'd been eliminated from the playoffs and you were doing everything to deny the inevitable. you thought he looked hot with it, he always did to you but there was something about quinn with a beard that really did it for you.

"hm, and what're you admiring?" oh he'd definitely caught you staring, a blush blazing on your cheeks at the thought of his knowing how badly you wanted him, and he could tell your brain was about to short circuit when he beckoned you over; sitting you between his legs on the lounger. "well you gonna tell me?"

“you know what." you didn't make eye contact as you spoke, burying your head in his neck in embarrassment as he wrapped his arms around your back.

"do i? think i'm gonna need a reminder."

"quinn..." you dragged out his name, your cheeks still a burning shade of pink and you swore in that moment you'd die of embarrassment. his hand moved from behind your back to rest just under your chin, lifting your head enough to force you to look at him, his pupils more blown out than before.

he hummed in response, his lips on your neck in a second and you were forced to suck in a breath, hands pressed against his chest to regain balance when you found yourself grinding your hips down against his, a groan falling from his mouth muffled by your skin. "wanna ride your thigh, please q."

you felt quinn smile against your collarbone, his lips not leaving you when you felt his hands on your hips readjusting you over one of his thighs. "love it when you tell me what you want." he muttered against you, voice thick as it dripped with lust.

tilting your head to the side you allowed him more access to your neck, feeling the way he left opened mouthed kisses against you that you knew for certain would leave bruises later but in that moment you didn't care. it was a new sensation for you, the thick muscle underneath you and you gave an experimental roll of your hips against it, pleasure shooting through your body from the friction.

the growing pressure between your legs caused a few small moans to escape your mouth, the feeling slowly building. he moved his arm to join the other on your hip, being able to rock them more forcefully now. "is this what a few weeks without me does to you? gets you so desperate you'll ride my thighs?"

his hand forced your jaw up to look at him, your eyes still not meeting his and quinn couldn't help the laugh that fell from his lips. "been wanting to do this for a while yeah? keep seeing you looking at 'em."

the pace of your moving hips never faltered, the look he was giving you somehow adding to the growing pleasure, like he was almost impressed you could get yourself off like this, or more so that you'd been thinking about it to. "fuck, quinn, yes." his head tilted to the side, the hand on your jaw staying firm with one of his fingers tapping against the skin. "been thinking about this for so long."

your confession ignited a fire inside of him, a moan slipping from your lips as he tensed the muscle underneath you, helping you roll your hips against him in a way that nearly had you crying out. warmth pooled in your stomach, feeling the way you clenched around nothing as you continued rocking your body against his, desperate for any sort of release but he wasn't going to help you out.

"cmon baby, know you can get there yourself." he replied when you let out a whine about how it wasn't enough and you needed more, he gave in a little bouncing his leg and catching you off guard, adding to the sensation. the nature of his word made goosebumps raise on your arms despite the warm temperatures, feeling your nippled harden against your bikini top, and it sent a shiver down your spine in anticipation.

"'m so close, q," you moaned against his neck, heading falling into the curve of his shoulder as you bit down on the skin when he flexed under you again, sending a ripple of pleasure through your body.

"you gonna me a mess on my thigh? know you've been thinking 'bout it." you didn't even have to look to know quinn was grinning like the fucking cheshire cat, almost certain he was somehow enjoying this more than you were, his hands holding a tighter grip on your hips as he took over some of the work, pressing you against his thigh as you let out a louder whine of his name.

the coil in your stomach wound tighter, the rush of warmth throughout your body hitting you like a ton of bricks as your body collapsed against his, thighs shaking around his as you cried out, whimpers and whines as he took over, guiding your hips over his thigh as he helped you ride it out. when his grip against your waist didn't stop, the sensitivity causing you to whine into his shoulder.

"thats the hottest fucking thing i've ever seen." quinn could feel your heart still beating rapidly against his chest, spurring him on even more to get you to another orgasm on just his thigh. your thighs were still shaking around him, a little light headed when he spoke again. "one more?"

“quinn-" your voice was breathless when you tried to argue back, throat hoarse from before and you knew arguing was futile.

"know you can." his lips found your temple, reassuringly kissing it. "just like that." he swore he was going mad, hearing you whimpering into his shoulder again, not trusting your arms enough to be able to support you.

quinn's words of praise were a killer, enough to tip you over the edge whenever he wanted you to. you were putty in that mans hands the second he started sweet talking you.

just as before you felt the familiar feeling building in your stomach, much quicker than before, the muscles in your core already tensing. quinn could read your body like a book, not even needing to ask if you were closer before you were coming undone on his thigh again.

your nails dragged down his back, most likely going to leave red scratch marks for the next couple days, and he was thankful he didn’t have the boys to tease him about them this time. his hands stopped their movements of your hips, allowing you the minute or two you needed to come down from your high and catch your breath once again.

quinn pushed the fallen hair out of your face, lifting your lips to meet his in a soft kiss, tender, wanting nothing out of it but to show you that he loved you. “you're so good to me." his praise already igniting that feeling in your stomach again. “gonna need you to do that more often.”

you laughed against his chest, finding the strength to push yourself up to see his face, holding his jaw in your hands as you placed a chaste kiss to his lips, enjoying the scratch of his grown out stubble underneath your fingertips. “whilst we’re talking about kinks, you’re keeping the beard.”

[galedekarios]

gale & karlach

i think out of all the dynamics between the companions, i've come to enjoy gale and karlach the most over my time with the game. karlach especially bc she's the only one who genuinely seems to care about and for gale.

she repeatedly checks in on him after the orb reveal and doesn't turn it into a joke about slurping carrots, or sipping wine, or wanting him to be gone entirely from the group.

not only does she advocate for him to stay three times, depending on which dialogue path you pick:

gale's background story reveal & the reveal about the netherese orb

Karlach: Come on. We all have our secrets - and our risks. If Gale leaves, we might as well disband completely. - Karlach: Absolutely. We're all risky in our own ways. We stick together anyway. Right? - Karlach: If having dangerous, otherworldly objects stuck in your skin is wrong, then Gale and I both have to go. We're not really splitting up, are we?

but she's also the only one who repeatedly asks him throughout the game how he is doing, to make sure how he's faring, both in general and with his debilitating condition:

act 2 - shadow-cursed lands banter

Karlach: Doing all right, Gale? Gale: Oh, you know... Still alive and kicking, despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of darkness and decay... devnote: Almost with a sigh. That's just how things are - Grim humour to it. Karlach: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

act 3 - after mystra stabilised the orb

Karlach: How's the orb treating you, Gale? Gale: Oh, quite well as a matter of fact. Since it was stabilised, it's been humming along nicely. Gale: I have noticed one adverse side-effect. I seem to be losing hair in some, er, unexpected places. Karlach: I can only imagine.

i think it really bears repeating/stressing that no other companion does this. not one checks in on gale like karlach does, after his affliction has become known to his companions - with the exception of the protag potentially.

karlach also arguably has the strongest reaction in response to mystra's demands in act 2, showing again her care for gale, as well as her protective side:

Karlach: Aw, was that Gale's granddad? Player: That was Elminster Aumar - the most famous wizard in the realms. Karlach: Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. But all right! Must've had something important to say to Gale, if he came all this way. Good news, I hope. Player: I don't think it was. It turns out Gale has an explosive bomb in his chest - and Mystra has asked him to use it to blow up the heart of the Absolute. Karlach: Whoa, now. He's got a... well, I guess that would explain a little, but... Mystra... I mean, this is a lot to take in. Karlach: What's he going to do? - Player - Option 1: I think he's going to follow through with it. Karlach: Fuck me. There's devotion, and then there's stupidity. If the god of magic can't handle this without sacrificing Gale, she's no god at all. - Player - Option 2: I don't think he'd do that to himself, even if Mystra commanded it. Karlach: Good. I'm one hundred percent sure there's another way to bring down this cult. No true god would ask such a thing from her faithful. That's for certain. Karlach: Poor Gale. He must be in bits after hearing that. I'll distract him. Tell him I haven't read a book since secondary school, watch his face melt off. - Player - Option 3: I'm not sure. I think he's of several minds. Karlach: Well, tell him to pick the right one. Better yet, I'll do it. Fucking wizards, man! They always need help picking the simple, obvious option. Karlach: If Mystra can't think of another way to stop the Absolute than sacrificing Gale, she's no god worth worshipping. I'll say that to Gale - in, you know, gentle terms. - Player - Option 4: You know that bomb in Gale's chest? Mystra has asked him to use it to explode the heart of the Absolute. Karlach: She what?! Is she mad?! - Player - Option 5: Don't worry about it. Karlach: Karlach doesn't worry, she acts. So if Gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.

i particularly like that last response bc it really echoes throughout her relationship with gale ("karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.").

their banters are often playful, but also genuine. both karlach and gale tease each other, they joke with each other, showing how comfortable they are with each other despite their many differences, but there are also moments of understanding and care between them, allowing them to emphasise with each other:

Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who? Gale: She who thirsts buys drinks the first. devnote: Like it's a well-known saying Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard! devnote: Jockeying with Gale (prob supposed to be Joking with Gale) Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.

Karlach: Just when I was getting used to the sky again... Gale: Fear not, Karlach. Sun, moon and stars will still be there waiting for us. devnote: Reassuring Karlach: Meanwhile, this place is pretty spectacular, isn't it? Gale: No book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice. But perhaps our stories might, when we return to the surface. devnote: Agreeing with Karlach, enjoying the sense of wonder as you explore

Gale: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. Gale: Passionate, primal, capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort, or inflicting the profoundest damage. devnote: Listing the qualities of fire, Romantic, indulging in the poetry of the image Karlach: That's... pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But now I will.

Karlach: Wouldn't mind a dancing axe of my own. Gale: A simple movement charm wouldn't be too hard to apply to such an object. I could conjure one up for you if you like? Karlach: Yes! I like! Gale: Very wel then. Once the city is saved, Karlach's Kinetic Cleaver will be first on my list.

Karlach: So, Gale - got any book recommendations for me?devnote: With concern Gale: You can read?! devnote: Taking the piss - knows full well Karlach can read, and that she's always claimed not to enjoy it Karlach: Very funny. Yes - I can read. School put me off big boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing. devnote: Friendly rather than flirtatious Gale: Say no more - I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep. devnote: Jumping on the opportunity to give a book recommendation (a favourite hobby) Karlach: Ooh! Something with magic, please. And no devils.

even at his most vulnerable moments, karlach is there to support him:

before the stormshore tabernacle audience with mystra

Karlach: You can do this, Gale. And I'll be right here when you're done.

she allows herself to be protective of him and get angry on his behalf not after when it comes to mystra, but also when he is potentially kidnapped by orin:

karlach's reaction to gale being kidnapped

Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.

once again, it's a good callback to her previous line: "karlach doesn't worry, she acts. so if gale needs me, now's the time to tell me."

she's willing to be needed by him - and he does need her. whether that is as a friend, or (if you chose to play so during an origin pt) as a romantic partner. it's a lovely dynamic either way.

[miley1442111]

safe- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

you and aaron have jack (obvi) and a daughter, ellie. :) (1.4k + words)

summary: you become an unsubs target

pairing: husband/dad aaron hotchner x wife/mother reader

warnings: general cm minds topics, knives, stitches, head wounds, trauma talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, etc.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There you stood, your own blood as well as another's blood all over your body. 

What happened? 

You were just leaving work, you were going to pick up Jack and Ellie on your way home. It was taco night, you three would cook together tonight, though since Aaron was on a case a few states over, you would be the only ones doing it. So, how did that exact same unsub get to you?

You sat in the ambulance, stitches going into your skin, but you weren’t even flinching, you didn’t even feel it. You knew Jack and Ellie were expecting you, so was Jessica. 

“Can I make a phone call?” You whispered to the paramedic. She nodded her head, sympathy on her face. “Thank you.”

You pulled out your phone as she finished the stitches in your head, moving onto the ones in your arms. 

“Hey Jess,” You sighed into the phone. 

“Hey, is everything alright?” she asked. “Do you want me to take Jack and Ellie for the night?” 

You could honestly cry at her generosity. “Yes please, thank you so much Jess.”

“No problem,” she smiled, worried from the other line. “Are you hurt?” she whispered. 

“I’ll be ok, someone just… yeah,’ you sighed. “Tell Jack and Ellie I love them, yeah?”

“Always.”

You hung up. The paramedic finished up and the officer who had been sitting with you for the past few minutes escorted you to a squad car and brought you to the station, informing you that the FBI were on their way. The FBI, really? Surely it wasn’t Aaron, right?

God, you missed Aaron. You’d never wanted to see him more in your life. Just to know he was ok, that he was there. 

Such luxuries could not be afforded at that current moment. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron sat beside David on the plane, exhaustion pulling at his eyes as Spencer read out the latest attack. 

“Oh, apparently there was one survivor,” Spencer said. “That might be his next target.”

“We should look into them, what’s the name?” David asked as Aaron yawned. 

“Y/n Y/l/n, she has a son, daughter, and husband,” Spencer said, and Aaron was wide-awake again. 

“Pardon?” He asked, hoping he’d heard wrong. 

“Y/n Y/l/n. She was beaten pretty badly and had a head wound and a stab to the arm, she’s at the station now. SHe agreed to a cognitive interview. She’s a professor of nuclear physics at a university nearby-” Spencer reads off. 

“She has more pHds than boy genius, 5 and counting,” Penelope interrupts him from the screen. 

“Well, she is older than me,” he stressed, attempting to keep some of his pride. 

“By what, 4 years?” Emily snorted, the rest of the team laughed, but Aaron was frozen. 

A head wound? You got stabbed? He felt faint. Immediately, he reached into his pocket to grab his phone, trying to call you. 

You didn’t pick up.

He tried again as the team stared at him in bewilderment. What was he doing?

No answer again.

“Sir-”

“I want a profile before we leave this plane,” he ordered and the team all stared at him. “Is that too much for you?” He asked snarkily. They all shook their heads and began breaking off into groups to work. Aaron stayed seated, a million thoughts running through his head at once. Was Jack ok? Was Ellie ok? How much blood did you lose? Was the unsub already on his way to you again? Were you a target because of him?

“Hotch I think we have something,” Morgan stated after 30 minutes. “The unsub is targeting women with the same description as the survivor. I'd say he’s a college student who is jealous of her husband. He’s formed a parasocial relationship and obsession with her and his delusions have led him to hurt those closest to her. It makes sense she’s beautiful, described as being extremely kind and caring about her students, she’s ridiculously intelligent, and apparently she and her husband are madly in love with each other. What’s her husband’s name Pen?” Derek asked, looking at the computer. 

“Aaron Hotchner,” she said, a gasp following her words. Aaron looked up, meeting the eyes of the team as they stared back, shocked. 

He could deal with them later. 

“Send police to Jessica's house,” he ordered before he got up to go to the back of the plane for a moment of peace. He took out his phone, dialling Jessica’s number.

“Hey, is Y/n ok?” She asked. “I have Jack and Ellie right now, are you with her?”

“Not yet, I’ve sent police to your house, just as extra protection, ok?”

“Alright Aaron. Take care of her when you see her, she seemed pretty shaken.”

“Course,” he gritted out and hung up. This was going to be difficult. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in an office, a cop’s jacket strung over your shaking shoulders. You were still covered in blood, you still saw the horrible image of one of your students being killed in front of you.

Where was Aaron? 

 “Can I go and clean up?” You sniffled, asking the sheriff who was sitting at his desk beside you. 

“Course sweetheart,” she smiled softly. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, if you want a shower there’s one in the training centre.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling smaller than you ever had. You were told to be careful with your stitches and that you’d be brought into the hospital in the morning once all of the stuff with the station was over. You walked down the hall to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, staring at your bloodstained face and clothes. The tears started falling, going down the drain with a red-tinge. 

You grabbed some tissue, wet it, and started scrubbing your face. The ache of your body was nothing to the turmoil in your head. Was it your fault one of your students was killed? Was Jack ok? Was Aaron ok? 

You didn’t even notice him coming behind you until he took the tissue out of your hand. He discarded it, damped the towel from his go-bag in his hand, lightly washing your face. Tears fell freely as he did so, but he wiped them away, a comforting hand on your lower back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clean cheek. He continued his gentle cleaning, bringing it down to your neck.

“I’m sorry too.” 

He smiled softly. “You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

“Neither do you, but we do it anyway.”

His emotions became too much all of a sudden, the feeling of nearly losing you becoming unthinkable. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered.  

“I love you too.”

After Aaron sufficiently cleaned as much of the blood off of you as he could, he took your blood-stained shirt off and replaced it with one of his extra dress shirts. Walking outside the bathroom, you felt eyes on the both of you. You recognised some of the team from stories and photos Aaron had shown you. They stared as Aaron wrapped you into his side and walked you back into the sheriff’s office. 

“I want the kids,” you admitted. “I know we shouldn’t but I’m so worried that they're not ok,” you cried into his bicep as he sat beside you. 

“I’ll send one of the team to grab them and Jess,” he nodded.

“Please don’t leave,” you whimpered, holding onto him for dear life. You needed him. 

“Of course not, honey,” he soothed. He signalled for Derek to come in. He walked in, careful of your feelings. “Will you go to Jessica’s house and pick up Jessica, Jack, and Ellie?”

“Of course sir, but… who’s Ellie?” he whispered the last part. 

“My daughter,” Aaron said and Derek went wide-eyed.

“I’ll be right back with them,” he promised. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Darling, do you feel up to telling me about it? Or even just something?" he whispered against your skin.

"I know who did it," you whispered back. You felt such guilt. You knew the unsub, he was one of your students Andrew. Andrew was obsessed with you, with your life, but you just took it as a student being interested in your life to get out of work. You didn't pay enough care to the way his interest dampened when you spoke about Aaron and when you talked about your anniversaries or dates.

"Honey-"

"His name's Andrew. He's in my chemical sciences class."

Aaron was silent for a moment. "Alright. I'll send officers his way."

"I'm so stupid, I didn't even realise-" you started but Aaron shushed you with a gentle kiss.

"Don't talk about my wife like that," he joked. You chuckled softly and he felt a sense of great accomplishment.

"I'm so glad you're here," you sighed into his neck.

"I'm so glad I'm here too."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're married?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Aaron admitted as he ran a hand through your hair as you lay on his lap asleep, Ellie and Jack playing by the sheriff's desk.

`'And you have another child," Penelope said, shock apparent in her voice and facial expression.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Spencer asked.

"I wanted to keep her safe," Aaron smiled. "I also just assumed you'd figure it out. Clearly you're not all as good as you think you are," he chuckled.

The team collectively rolled their eyes, but still smiled. Aaron was happy, you were safe, another unsub was awaiting jail, and they could almost feel the love radiating off of Aaron.

All was well.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

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Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

[noiryinn]

game over!

pairing(s): nagi seishiro x male reader

summary: when a game of fortnite leads to sex

warnings: amab!reader, top!reader, bottom!nagi, anal sex, crying, begging, riding, belly bulge, edging, overstimulation, reader is kinda mean, slut shaming, (minors + fem aligned dni, all characters aged up)

word count: 1.1k

a/n: first smut, enjoy! (kinda rushed and bad)

you were watching your boyfriend play his video games, as always. it annoyed you a bit, but you saw how happy he was playing them so you never said anything.

“hey, nagi?” you called out to him while laying on his bed. “yeah?” he replied, not even glancing away from his monitor. you really didn’t know what to say, you just called his name to he would pay some attention to you. your sex life has been kinda dry, so you just said the first thing that came to mind.

“if you win that game i’ll give you a blowjob,” you blurted out before quickly regretting it. you couldn’t take it back though, since he turned his head to look at you, “yeah?” nagi seemed to be challenging you. “and if i lose?” he asked. well, you didn’t think this far ahead so you just blurted something out again, “you have to ride me.”

honestly, it didn’t seem like a fair deal, but he took it anyway. “fine, deal.” you blinked in surprise, you never expected him to actually take it, knowing how much he hates doing the work himself. nagi was a pillow princess, there was no doubt. every time he laid there and looked pretty. a part of you really want this, maybe as pay back for the numerous amount of times he always payed attention to games and not you.

…

spoiler alert, he didn’t win the game.

…

“f-fuck! [name]!” the white haired boy whined in a pathetically high pitched voice. his eyes glossed over in pleasure as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “please— ah…no- no more…” he begged. his moves were sloppy and uncoordinated, drool dribbled down his chin. his face was puffy and it was clear as day that he was wildly embarrassed.

“oh, seishiro…you’re getting sloppy, don’t tell me this is your limit? poor baby, is it nap time already?” you mocked him lightly. you couldn’t help laugh how he became such a overstimulated mess in just a few minutes. a small frown played on his face, “i’m not— agh…done yet!” nagi managed to slip out. “good. then prove it.” you condescendingly smirked at him, now it was your turn to sit and enjoy the show.

you fully took in the sight of your boyfriend. his ears and face flushed a mad red. he looked like he was nearing his limit, but didn’t want to admit it yet. the room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping and moans. you loved the sound of squelching when he sank onto your dick. there was even a outline of where it was on his stomach.

with a huff, he messily picked up his pace, drooling all over himself as he made pitiful attempts to keep up the pace. “is that all you can do?” you sneered, “shut up! i can— ngh…do more!” he made a weak jab to insult you back, but really he could barely think at all.

nagi was so perfect. the way he handled your dick, moaned, his facial expressions, you loved it. his pride made him refuse to admit that he was at his breaking point. you wanted to toy with him a bit, so you put your hands on either side of his hips and pushed him down onto your dick. his toes curled and his back arched in the most erotic way possible as he let out a lewd moan.

nagi’s head threw back and he tried to cover his mouth to stifle his moan when your dick hit his prostate in just the right area. you could feel his cute little hole clench around you. he was swearing up a storm under his breath, breathless ‘fucks’ and ‘shit’ rolled out his mouth as he kept babbling.

“i wanna…come ughh— please” he whined and begged as warm tears of pleasure rolling down his cheeks. “awh, already? but i was just starting to have some fun…” you pouted, “but hold it in, will ya?” you asked him. “i can’t, mnghh…[name] you’re being mean!” he said weakly. “you can’t what? use your words…” you looked at him in his eyes.

he stared at you back with that same frown on his face, it looked like he was choking back words. you waited for him to speak, wondering what he had to say. “i can’t…ride you anymore— ah!” you slammed him down on your dick again, “you’re too big…nghh…” nagi kept rambling on, “you’re— so mean…just fuck me already…please…?” he gave you a pleading look and you sighed. “looks like poor baby can’t ride me anymore. don’t worry, i’ll take it from here” you teased him one last time before switching the position you two were in.

nagi laid on the bed, his face having a fucked out expression, both of his legs wrapped around your waist. you barely gave him a moment to recollect his thoughts when you sharply thrusted into him, knocking the wind out of nagi’s lungs. you pounded deeply into his hole. the sound of his moans sounding almost pornographic.

nagi could barely think, let alone form words. all he could do was just lay there and moan. “you are such a whore for dick, seishiro.” you smirked, he made a desperate attempt to shake his head no, but he was too fucked out to actually do anything. “what a little slut, bet you lost that game on purpose huh?” you whispered in his ear. his only response was a little whimper.

you were surprised when nagi tightened his legs around you, rutting against you for any sort of friction, for you to go deeper. you smiled at this and leaned in to kiss him deeply. he lazily wrapped his arms around your neck. when you two let go to breathe, he whispered something softly in your ear, “mm…[name] i love you…so please, don’t go easy on me, okay…?” in that moment, what kept you from holding back (barely anything), just shattered in that moment.

…

“[name]~ my back hurts” nagi grumbled. you chuckled softly at that, “you were the one who wanted me to go hard, seishiro. don’t make a fuss.” he just responded with a petulant look. you two were on the bed looking at each other, sweaty and breathless. even when nagi was a mess he was beautiful. “you were being mean too…” he complained. “sorry, i couldn’t help it when you were being such a brat…” you remarked.

“ugh…that was such a hassle…i don’t know why we did it…” nagi mumbled while sinking into the bed. “you agreed to the bet!” you groaned, rolling your eyes at his complaint. for an athlete, he was sure unmotivated. “can you wash me? i feel gross…” he asked with puppy-dog eyes. it wasn’t unusual for him to ask you to do things like that. “okay, okay. i’ll carry you.” you sighed, unable to resist his adorable look. though it was a bit of work, you didn't mind doing it for nagi.

[erwinsvow]

i feel like bitchy reader is definitely bossy and demanding and a total princess but in private she’s sweet (still has that bad princess attitude😭) with rafe. like he gets her to a level where she softens.

omg! you get them! ♡

sprawled on rafe's bed with your open magazines and a bottle of pink nail polish—despite how many times rafe had told you to not bring that shit onto his bed—you've made yourself comfortable.

balancing your phone to your ear, you fan your nails with your other hand. one of your friends is on the other line, he can tell you're fed up with whoever it is, even more than usual, by the way you talk to her.

rafe walks in and watches the scene in front of him while you observe your nails and flip another page, dog-earing something that's caught your eye, something he's gonna be buying you soon if you don't buy it yourself first.

"who is it?" he mouthes when you finally look up.

"your stupid sister," you say back at a normal volume, not even blocking the speaker or muting yourself.

"hey! i heard that-" his sister's voice comes through the speaker.

"yeah, i meant you to," you reply, blowing on your nails.

"y'know she's downstairs, right?" rafe asks, though you don't answer, just roll your eyes while you ignore him and continue your conversation.

"anyways, stop chasing people. especially people lower than you. it's embarrassing, sarah."

"stop calling john b 'lower people'!"

"tell him to stop behaving like lower people then. it's not that hard. or maybe you should up your standards."

though he's a little confused by what you're saying, rafe goes back to focusing on the reason he came in here, opening up his laptop. you and sarah keep yapping back and forth, until you finally hang up.

you look up at rafe expectantly the second you hang up the call, but he's too focused on the screen to see you. you set aside the magazines, tightening up the nail polish bottle and setting it on rafe's nightstand carefully—you didn't need another fiasco like the time you spilled it everywhere.

but just like your boyfriend, you were too stubborn to listen to anyone but yourself.

"okay! i'm ready now," you say, sitting up against his headboard.

"ready for what?" rafe asks, still not looking up. you want to chuck the nail polish at him to get his attention, but you foresee it ending badly, settling on tossing one of the magazines instead. it lands with a thud by rafe's feet. "huh?" just confused, not angry, he picks it up and sets it down on his desk before looking at you.

"i'm ready to hang out now." for all your stubbornness, even the irritating way you fight with him and somehow always have a better comeback ready than he does, when he looks at you, it's hard to hold back a smile.

"what about twenty minutes ago when i was ready to hang out, huh?" you roll your eyes.

"oh, shut up, liar. you came to get your laptop."

"you don't know that."

"if you came to hang out, you would have come here and hung up the call." you say it matter-of-factly, looking up at him with an irritatingly pretty smile, the one reserved for when you're reading him for filth.

"shut up." he closes the laptop and makes his way to you anyways, but when you curl into his chest and get quiet for a moment, he has a hard time remembering what the two of you were even talking about to begin with.

and though you would never admit it, you don't either.

[pomefioredove]

movie night

summary: vil devotes his time to showing you all the movies you haven't seen yet type of post: short fic characters: vil schoenheit additional info: romantic, FLUFF, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, kinda short author's note: I so often think about how yuu is completely unfamiliar with pop culture in twisted wonderland. vil would lose his mind if he found out you hadn't seen a single movie yet. in my heart I know he's a little nerdy about it

It's to be expected.

Of course. Of course you haven't had the time or the means.

It's perfectly reasonable that you'd put your studies and social obligations before leisure time. He understands.

But hearing you so openly admit that you haven't seen a single movie since arriving in this world, let alone one of his, doesn't sit well with Vil Schoenheit.

As it turns out, the mythological being who doesn't spend their free time absorbed in media is real, and they're standing right in front of him with an apologetic smile.

Oh, you poor, poor thing.

Even after the conversation dies and you part ways on good terms, Vil can't shake this odd, itchy feeling.

He wonders what it must be like- not understanding anyone's references, being left out of conversations, still so dependent on a culture that doesn't even exist here.

Is there something wrong with the people you spend your time with? Surely at least one of them would take the time to show you the classics. Just one.

No wonder everyone regards you as naive and innocent. No one's taken the time to explain anything about this world to you. And he's sure that extends far beyond cinema...

"What is this?"

It's the first thing you ask when he opens the door to you. Ever curious, ever clueless.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he says, looking thoroughly unamused with your naivete.

A projector. A white screen. And a tray full of luxury skincare essentials that he'll be sure to test on you while you're distracted.

"Seriously," you say. "What's going on? Your message was really vague."

He sighs. "Oh, goodness, just come inside,"

Vil sits you down on the edge of his bed and hands you a plush headband to push your hair out of your eyes. He's more than pleased at your lack of protests thus far, and continues to take advantage of your willingness while smearing a sweet-smelling face mask over your cheeks.

"It needs to set before we start,"

"Start what?"

Vil smirks, standing and drifting across the room to a large wardrobe- no, a cabinet. He opens it- no, a shelf. Packed full of DVDs, arranged by date and in pristine condition.

"Wow, Vil. I never took you for a nerd,"

His gaze sharpens. "Hardly. And try not to talk so much right now, you'll crack the mask,"

He hums merrily, delicate fingers dancing over the smooth plastic cases before stopping at a soft white one. "This'll do,"

You watch as Vil returns to your side, carefully inspects your face, and then walks back around to tinker with the projector. You, of course, wait patiently, hands folded neatly in your lap as the screen ahead of you comes to life.

He turns off the lights and sits beside you as a white light illuminates your face, turning the hue of the mask a strange color.

"This is a classic," he whispers. "It's the first film I remember loving."

"It's that good?"

He chuckles. "No, it's quite outdated, and terribly unfunny. I'm just fond of it,"

If there's anything Vil Schoenheit is, it's honest. The entire black and white picture (which you surmise is quite old by Twisted Wonderland standards) is heaped with unfunny and confusing references, terribly paced, and acted like a primary school play.

And yet, there's a sense of warmth that permeates the external terribleness of it, that of which takes form in each of Vil's awkward laughs.

You revel in each of his little comments, his tidbits about the actors, his trivia about the production. He certainly seems to know what he's talking about, and his grace and confidence almost distract you from how nerdy he's really being.

Though, he's really not paying close attention to the screen. Vil seems far more interested in watching you, your reactions, almost as if searching for some kind of approval in the expressions you make. Do you laugh at this joke? Do you ask about this plot twist? Do you enjoy this song?

It's a completely alien experience, having him looking to you for validation, although you make sure to comment on how much you enjoyed yourself. Just to see him smile again.

"Same time next week, then," he says. "One movie won't be enough to catch you up on decades of pop culture, after all."

And thus, a tradition is born.

It's strange for him to think about how you've made yourself a home in his schedule. Wedged between expensive photo shoots and meetings with luxury brands, there's you. One single name in the same spot every week.

He couldn't admit it, but you've quickly become the highlight of his calendar.

"And this is just after they transitioned to movies with sound. It was a grand extinction event, not every studio nor star survived," he says, nodding to the screen ahead.

You hum in agreement. Your eyes are heavier than usual, and you're leaning against your elbow, absent-mindedly agreeing with everything he says.

A part of Vil wants to tease you for finding his taste in film boring, but he's not even sure if you have the mental capacity to listen to big words right now.

"Sleepy?"

"Grim kept waking me up last night..." you sigh. "I'm paying attention, I promise."

He watches you lie through your teeth, and then he watches as your words grow heavy and your body slumps over, awkwardly positioned against his.

Vil sighs- whatever is he going to do with you and that terrible sleep schedule of yours?- and readjusts so that your head is neatly set in the crook of his neck and your body is comfortably fit against his.

He finishes the movie, and lets the screen play the menu sequence over and over again. It's not really worth waking you up over, after all.

You're so cute when you're sleeping.

He hates himself for thinking that. You're perfectly inelegant- awkwardly breathing, practically drooling. And yet, he could stay here for the rest of the night and not wholly regret it in the morning. He just wishes you'd picked a better time to fall asleep on him.

Someday, he'd gladly return to bed to cuddle with you after he'd done his evening routine.

But... just this once, he'll let it go.