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fangirl-dot-com · 21 days

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🧠Fake Amnesia

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: There was a saying that if you knew a celebrity existed, your chances of meeting them out and about decreased significantly. Is it true? No clue. But, you weren't about to let that stop you from finding Lando Norris in Imola.

*I am so so sorry for the very late and delayed chapter. I hope you all like it! I switched out this one to write it before the next as "Love Triangle" was supposed to come out first, but we've had a lot of Lestappen for now! But here we go!"

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Were you a bit stupid?

Yes. Yes you were. Did you more money than your budget allowed just to get to Imola a few days early to possibly not even find Lando? You didn’t want to talk about it.

But right now as you perused through the local shopping area, you didn’t take the time to really dwell on your past choices. Only finding Lando could save you now. Which that seemed like a faraway dream.

Whatever that one reddit post said about having a higher chance of meeting a celebrity if you didn’t know them was absolute bullshit. You couldn’t go back in time to stop yourself from liking a thirst trap of Lando on TikTok. And now because of that, your chances of meeting the British driver seriously decreased.

How on earth were you supposed to find one of the most popular men alive, on a race weekend, where everyone was already looking to spot the driver in a more relaxed setting? You had no clue. But the shopping center felt like a good idea.

You had been drawn in by one of the jewelry sections, eyes glazing over the number of zeros that followed every first number. Your heart winced at the thought of even buying one. To be honest, you didn’t even know how you got into this mall in the first place. Everyone around you was dressed in the highest European fashion.

Your outfit wasn’t terrible per say, but it didn’t reflect the Italian area either. You were wearing some cream baggy linen pants that matched the light orange top that you had thrown on after scrambling to find a shirt. You didn’t really know exactly what shirt you were wearing, except that it was comfortable and went well with the pants. The giant number 4 on the back went completely unnoticed. Sandals adorned your feet and sunglass sat as though a crown on your head. Your cross-body bag dangled a bit against your side.

You had just cringed once again at a price tag when your eyes landed on some brown curly hair. Your eyes followed the coils down to the face and you wanted to scream (but held it in because you were not about to get kicked out).

There was no way that Lando Norris was standing about 10 feet away from you.

There was no way.

Except your hands automatically opened your phone and the twitter app popped up. You were too busy looking down at your phone, fingers moving at the speed of light, to notice that some hazel eyes had landed on your figure.

Lando, on the other hand, wanted to sigh. Could he go one day without having to get stopped by fans? The giant 4 on your shirt seemed to mock him. Internally, he was wishing that the girl was a Max or Charles fan.

But, he was going to be the bigger person and approach the nice looking girl before she could bring more attention to him. He decreased the space between them and tapped her shoulder, getting her attention.

You were not expecting a tap on the shoulder. And you were definitely not expecting that tap to come from Lando Norris’s finger.

“Can I sign something for you?” he asked. The sound of his voice must have put some type of spell on you since you felt as though you couldn’t speak.

Lando huffed. “Please? I don’t need other people finding out that I’m here and then I’ll have to leave.”

You blinked twice at him before you finally found your voice. “I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?”

Stupid reddit post.

The McLaren driver wanted to smack himself. Were you a fan? Or maybe you were wearing a papaya colored shirt that supported another person, who happened to have the same number? Or maybe if was your friend’s shirt? Or one you thrifted?

He winced. “I am so sorry. I thought. . . ”

You shifted on your feet, brain trying to come up with an idea for what happens next. You were standing in front of thee Lando Norris. You couldn’t miss this opportunity.

Lando watched your eyes widen and he wanted to hide. Maybe you were just shocked that it was him?

Your eyes then squinted. “You look really familiar. Oh, I know where you’re from.”

The Briton wanted to run and hide. This was it, you were going to start squealing, and then other people will look that way, see Lando, cause a giant crowd, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the weekend.

He was doomed.

“You’re that actor right? From Spiderman.”

This time, Lando blinked while staying silent.

“No, I believe that’s Tom Holland.”

“Oh.”

Now it was getting awkward with the two of you just looking at each other. Which, this gave you the perfect opportunity to memorize the different shades of blue, green, and brown in his eyes. You looked to the side and chewed on you bottom lip.

Lando looked stuck.

“I am so sorry for interrupting your shopping,” he started out.

You waved your hands, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s fine. Wasn’t like I could buy anything here. Way too many zeros for my liking.”

Lando giggled at that and you internally melted.

Time to add “got Lando Norris to giggle like a schoolgirl” on your resume.

“Yeah. Bit too posh for me as well.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit in a bit more than I do.”

He rolled his eyes before huffing. “I’d rather spend time playing video games at my house instead.”

Now this is what you could get behind. When you first started following Lando, gaming started to interest you. Because of him, you were able to meet a bunch of friends through gaming. Your notifications were specifically set up to let you know when Lando was streaming.

Your eyes lit up with some excitement, which Lando thought was adorable.

“I like to game too! It’s fun playing weird simulator games. Me and my friends tried this goat game one time and we couldn’t stop laughing.”

This time, Lando’s eyes sparkled.

“I’ve played goat simulator too with my friends! Charles . . .” he caught himself, not wanting to give out more names. “Uh my friends Carl, Alec, and Jord really liked it during the pandemic. And then we got Dax in on it too.”

You wanted to absolutely start laughing, since you actually watched that stream live back in 2020. The cute names he gave to Charles, Alex, George, and Max were adorable. Your friends, although knowing you were watching the stream, had sent you the link and asked if you’d want to play the same simulator. Let’s just say, your laugh rivaled teapot-Charles.

“They sound like fun,” you said, a warm tone in your voice that had Lando melting like chocolate under a hot summer’s sun.

There was a bit of silence before Lando spoke up again. “Do you maybe, this sounds so weird, but there’s a game store farther down, would you want to join me?”

There was no way in hell that you’d tell him no.

You smiled up at him. “Sure! Lead the way! By the way, I’m Y/n.”

Lando went to say something but stopped. You could tell he almost said his name, and you’d bet money on the name that was about to come out of his mouth.

“I’m Bob.”

Bingo.

You snorted. “You don’t look like a Bob. But what would I know?”

The two of you laughed as you started walking farther into the shopping center. You exchanged laughs here and there, sharing stories about your lives with Lando being very vague about his day job.

“I work as an Uber driver,” he had said after you confessed that you were now working as a part-time gamer and then part-time relator. The work was hard, but that job allowed you to spend your hard-earned money on fun things like: coming to Imola early to try to find Lando.

Low-and-behold, you did.

Spending the afternoon with him felt so comfortable, as if you had known each other your entire lives. And Lando, to his surprise, felt the same. After the gaming store, he even invited you to lunch.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you told him, but kept stride alongside him as he walked toward the small restaurants.

He shrugged. “I know. But I like spending time with you.”

A deep blush formed on your face as you kept walking. The bright red caused Lando to smirk just a bit.

As you ate and made conversation, you suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. You quickly excused yourself and left, leaving Lando at the table along.

He hadn’t meant to look, but your phone kept going off and his eyes just barely looked at your screen. They widened with he noticed his exact points in the season along with McLaren’s and the race schedule. And the picture of him from Miami after his first win as your lockscreen.

The Box-Box app.

He pursed his lips for a moment, briefly feeling played. But as he sat and thought about the past few hours that he spent with you, he felt content. At any point, you could have screamed his name, asked for a picture, and ruin his shopping trip. You could have tweeted his location and hordes of people would have shown up.

But you didn’t.

The McLaren driver was so caught up in his head that he didn’t heard you coming. Thankfully, your screen had gone dark, still giving the effect that you “didn’t know” who he really way.

“Everything ok Bob?” you asked as you sat back down, stealing one of his French fries from his tray.

Lando shook his head, ridding the “betrayal” from his thoughts.

“Just perfect. Trying to figure out who might win the Formula 1 race this weekend.”

He wanted to smirk at you froze for just a second before leaning back just a bit, arms crossed over your chest.

“What is that? Some type of NASCAR thing?”

Oh, so you knew how to play.

Luckily for Lando, so did he.

“It’s a bit different,” he said as he took a sip of his drink.

You were internally freaking out.

Did he know? If he knew then he might say something. And then he’ll call his security team and get you a ban from the paddock. And you might even go to jail for stalking. Could you even go to Italian jail for that? You didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

However, Lando kept silent as the two of you finished your lunches. Easy conversation did flow once again when you steered it back to gaming. You had a giant smile as the two of you walked out of the shopping area.

However, your heart dropped when you realized that the time with the Briton was coming to a quick end. Lando was feeling the same.

You let out a sigh as you turned to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun! Like I said, you didn’t have to.”

Lando scoffed. “Of course I did. I interrupted your shopping. It was the least I could do.”

There was a lingering silence before you broke it.

“I guess this is the end then Bob.” You held out a hand for him to shake, but he rolled his eyes and brought you into a hug. You parted after a bit and started to walk toward the little Fiat you had rented for the weekend.

Lando felt torn until he realized he could definitely see you again.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You turned around to see Lando running up to you, phone out.

“Can I have your number?”

Yep, this is how you were going to die. Y/n L/n found dead in a parking lot after Lando Norris asked for her number. What an amazing way to go out in the end.

You didn’t say anything, but quickly opened your phone and handed it to him, new contact ready to be filled out. The driver was smirking to himself as he filled out his information. He handed your phone back to you, only to lean down and kiss your cheek.

The familiar bright red once again filled them in as he leaned back.

“I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” he quietly said as he started to walk away.

“Maybe,” you said back, biting your bottom lip after.

Lando swore that if the two of you weren’t in the parking lot, he’d bite it for you.

When he was a bit away, he turned back and waved at you, happy to see that you were still staring at him. But who wouldn’t stare at Lando Norris though. Definitely not you, you could stare all day long if you could.

“Bye Y/n!”

“Bye Lando!”

Your hands clapped over your mouth as you watched him lean back in a full laugh. You even had him hunching over in a fit of giggles. You still watched as his shoulders shake as he got into what looked to be an Uber.

Your phone buzzed, causing you to look down at it. There was an email and a text message. One from McLaren and one from “Lando 🧡”

“Maybe next time I can sign your shirt. I think it’s cute that you follow my points :)”

You turned around quickly, trying to see the back of your shirt in the reflection of your rental car. There it was, in all it’s glory.

The giant-ass “4.”

“Shit.”

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_y/n kinda confused about 20 guys driving around in circles. someone know what this is called?

also ran into this really cute guy. says he drives for a living. didn't know uber drivers could be hot

liked by friend1, bestie, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,204 others

friend1 ayo is that the guy that you will not shut up about?

landonorris awww you don't shut up about me??

y/n_l/n STOP EXPOSING ME

bestie ok I see the appeal, can you ask someone for that brunet in the red's number??

maxverstappen1 🤺🤺🤺

y/n_l/n i think he's taken

charles_leclerc I am??

maxverstappen1 ☹️

charles_leclerc I AM TAKEN

friend2 so luckyyyyyyy

friend4 glad you had fun!

oscarpiastri I think it's called Formula 1

y/n_l/n finally someone who knows something @.landonorris you've been replaced

landonorris osc, we've talked about this

fan1 what the heck is going on

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

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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.

series masterlist

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.”

part five

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

Text

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

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ferrstappen · 7 months

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max the wag: caught in the middle l mv1

a/n: so... this isn't the best part of the series but I saw this post on instagram last week and just couldn't resist! hope you enjoy it <3 x

pairing: Max Verstappen x fem reader

genre: fluff

you can find the rest of max the wag here <3

summary: You find Max on a WAGs Instagram page, just not how you'd imagine.

Mexico Grand Prix, 2023

The only time you left the energy station during race weekends was when Max was crowned the winner of the Grand Prix, making your usual route the back entrance, energy station, parc fermé and then, if people were lucky, would catch a glimpse of Max and you leaving hand in hand, big smiles on your faces even if you always tried to keep your head down.

Sure, this wasn’t always the easiest for you, wanting to be there with Max most time, but in the early stages of your relationship when you first attended a Grind Prix as his girlfriend, you told Max it wasn’t an interest of yours to be known or to have your face plastered on Instagram profiles. Of course, it was inevitable, but both you and Max tried your best to make it work, even if it meant Max would have to begrudgingly answer a question about the relationship to the fans so they wouldn’t start speculating.

Max even made an effort to stop F1TV from broadcasting you, and it cost him an app exclusive interview.

This never worked to ease the break up rumors always emerging. You were able to put the latest one to rest during Qatar where you were waiting with your arms wide open when he was crowned champion, shortly kissing his lips and forehead during the commotion, everyone trying to get a hold of him.

Of course, that was the highlight of the weekend even if Max didn’t win the race, but a close second was the appearance of a new WAG, a gossip both you and Max had closely followed since pretty much the beginning of the season, but you never crossed paths with her and were only aware of the confirmation when you were back in the hotel.

Now, you were mindlessly scrolling through Instagram posts, getting ready to watch the race in your apartment in Monaco with Jimmy and Sassy, the F1 app playing on the iPad screen, when a particular post caught your attention.

It was Max, completely clueless of what was going on behind him: Rebecca and Carlos were easy to spot, absolutely not trying to hide, happy smiles and not trying to hide.

You didn’t notice the F1 transmission was focusing on Max inside the garage, but the first thing you did was send the post to Max.

MAX BABE, YOU RUINED THE SHOT!!!

The camera kept following Max as he checked his phone for the last time, and this time you were thankful for it since you were able to check his every facial expression as he opened the message.

What am I looking at, schatz? A terrible picture of me before the race??

Are you trying to help Lando win??

The transmission showed how GP approached Max to go over the strategy, forcing Max to hand over his phone before seeing your answers.

Babe, she’s Carlos gf! Remember back in Barcelona when we weren’t sure if it was true? WELL IT IS

IT’S THEM IN THE BACK!!!

The gossip was soon forgotten was you watched Max win once again, texting your congratulations while pointing at Max in the TV for Jimmy and Sassy to see, even if you could sense their judgement.

Right after the podium ended the phone vibrated, your favorite part of race day when you weren’t able to be with Max, was the mandatory FaceTime call, showing you his trophy, completely soaked in champagne, giving you his best smile.

“Congratulations honey! You were incredible, it was a great race, I’m sure you enjoyed it!” You animatedly said to him while wearing one of your own Red Bull jersey with his number on it.

“Yes, yes… so, did he really cheat on his ex?” Max asked and you gave him a confused look.

“What are you talking about?”

Max stared at your face in the screen, giving you a look of disbelief. “Carlos! You sent me that post of that horrible picture with them in the back,”

Now that you were caught up, it was impossible not to appreciate your boyfriend right now, with his blue eyes wide open, still holding his trophy, but waiting to be updated on whatever was going on outside the track. “I have no idea if he cheated, you were the one who overheard the Ferrari mechanics!”

“But you are the WAG, schatz!” Max argued.

You scoffed. “Yes, and I am the worst WAG ever and you know that!”

“Don’t say that about yourself, there’s nothing wrong about wanting to keep your privacy,” Max reassured you, like he always did.

“Maybe I can put on a show next week and try to find out what people know…” You said to yourself.

“I’m sure Charles’ ex knows… what was her name?” Max asked you while trying his best to remember.

You chuckled before answering. “Charlotte, baby,” you replied and he nodded his head as if he was trying to tell you he always knew, it just slipped his mind. “and yeah, I’m sure she knows but I don’t want to talk to her just to interrogate her, you know? Maybe,” you were going to continue before Max interrupted.

“Schatz, I have to go but I swear I’ll figure out who may know more about this, okay? I love you, can’t wait to see you,”

You hurriedly said an “I love you” before the call ended, knowing Max was going to do his best to gather information he’d be waiting to share once you reunited in Brazil. And maybe, just maybe, you’d consider arrive to the track walking hand in hand, kissing his cheek for good luck, for everyone to see.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

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Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Four - The Park

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.6K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

i have literally no idea how custody works, so i feel like i've taken liberties with this

Series Masterlist

Y/N parked her car and hopped out. She opened the back door and grabbed Milo from his car seat, buttoning up his little jacket. “Excited, Milo?” She asked as she took his hand and walked him along the grassy park, to where Daniel and Olivia were.

They were in the playpark, Daniel pushing Olivia on the swings. Y/N opened the gate to the park (fenced off to stop dogs from entering) and let Milo walk through. She held his hand as they walked over to them.

Spotting Olivia, Milo let go of his momma’s hand and went running towards her. He jumped into the swing beside her and started shouting ‘push me, momma!’

So, Y/N followed him over. She said a hello to Daniel and began pushing Milo on the swings. It became a competition between the kids to see who could go higher, but the parents are more concerned about their safety than some silly competition.

After they finished up on the swings, Olivia and Milo went running over to the slides. Y/N and Daniel sat down on one of the benches scattered around the playpark as Olivia and Milo chased each other down the slide.

Daniel was easy to converse with. The more Y/N learnt about him, the more she liked to spend time with him. He was an interesting guy, had an interesting life. She was beginning to love listening to him talk.

Eventually, the kids remembered that they were promised ice cream the day before. They slid down the slide and went running towards their parents. Milo grabbed a hold of his mother’s arm and jumped on the spot. “Ice cream, momma!” He shouted as Olivia did the same.

Daniel looked at Y/N, wearing a grin. He grabbed a hold of Olivia, placing her on his shoulders as he walked out of the part. Y/N couldn’t do the same with Milo. She held his hand and followed Daniel out of the park. “Momma, I want to go on your shoulders,” he said with a pout.

“Sorry, Milo,” she muttered as she picked him up and placed him on her hip. “What ice cream would you like, munchkin?”

“Chocolate!” Milo shouted.

Falling into step with Y/N and Milo, Daniel tried his best to look up at Olivia, still on his shoulders. “What about you, Badger?” He asked, bouncing her slightly.

“Hmm.” Olivia thought about it like it was the most serious question in the world, like the world depended on it. “Cherry,” she said. “Wait, vanilla. Wait, chocolate.”

In the end, Daniel bought Olivia a cherry flavoured ice cream. She skipped along happily with it while Milo ate his chocolate ice cream. “Do you want one?” Asked Daniel, his wallet still in his hands.

But Y/N shook her head. “Thanks though,” she said as the two of them followed the kids along.

While they ate their ice creams, Milo and Olivia walked around the park. Y/N and Daniel walked behind them, hands swinging lazily between them, almost close enough to touch. But they didn’t, not yet at least.

“Okay,” Y/N began. “Milo said you’re a race car driver. Is that true?”

Daniel let out a laugh. “You mean an F1 driver? Yeah, yes, I am,” he said, his grin growing wider.

“Seriously? I thought Milo was just making that up to make things sound more impressive,” she replied. “Like, last month Milo told some of the boys in his class that his dad is a famous football player to try and get them to like him.”

Daniel laughed, but it was a sad sort of laugh. He knew Milo to be a lovely boy, one that didn’t need to make up such things for friends. But he continued. “I swear to god, I’m an F1 driver. Have been for years now. It’s why my parents sometimes drop Olivia off at daycare.”

“Okay, prove it,” she said. “Tell me everything there is to know about F1.”

Daniel laughed. With his whole body, he laughed. He held his chest as he stopped walking and placed one of his hands on his knees. But then he got an idea. A brilliant idea. “How about, instead of telling you, I show you? Take you and Milo to a race?”

“Seriously?” Y/N asked, staring at him. “You’d seriously do that for us? we’re basically strangers.”

Daniel nodded his head. “Of course. Milo is Olivia’s best friend and I know she’d love to have him at a race with her.”

“Holy shit,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, not loud enough for the kids to hear. “Thank you, Daniel. Seriously.”

He just smiled in return. Because, before he got to say anything, Olivia came running over, pink ice cream all over her face. “Daddy,” she began as Y/N reached into her bag to pull out some tissues. She handed a packet to Daniel, who immediately began wiping Olivia’s face with it. “Milo has never seen the Cars movies.” She turned her attention to Y/N. “How have you never shown him the Cars movies?” She turned back to Daniel. “Can Milo come over to watch the car movies?”

Daniel picked her up and placed her on his hip as Milo ran over, chocolate all over his face. Y/N grabbed another packet of tissues and cleaned off Milo’s face. He protested, trying to avoid the tissues (but Y/N got him, holding him still to clean him off).

“Well, Badger, you’re at your mums next week and I’ve got another race. But I’m sure, if it’s okay with Miss L/N, that Milo can come over the week after,” Daniel said, gently swaying her from side to side.

Y/N did the same with her son, placing him on her hip. “What do you say, Milo? Do you wanna go to Mr Ricciardo’s house to watch Cars with Olivia?” Milo nodded his head eagerly. “Tell Mr Ricciardo, not me,” Y/N said gently.

“Yes please, Mr Ricciardo!” He said, excitedly.

The kids wiggled out of their parents grasps and went back to running around, chasing each other and playing tag. Olivia chased Milo across the path and across the grass, with Y/N and Daniel never very far behind.

“Maybe we should swap numbers, now that our kids are best friends,” Daniel said, his voice somewhat nervous.

Y/N nodded. “Definitely,” she said as she pulled out her phone. Daniel programmed his number into her phone, taking a quick picture of himself for the contact picture, and Y/N did the same (minus the picture). It was to make planning out playdates easier, they both reasoned. Daniel even made a joke about sending Y/N and Milo some AlphaTauri merchandise for when they came to watch him race (but, it wasn’t really a joke).

“Can I ask a kind of personal question?” Y/N asked as Daniel handed her phone back and they began walking again.

“I love it when you say that.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. Daniel was funny and charismatic, always switched on. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him. But then she asked her question. “Why is Olivia’s nickname Badger?”

Finally, a question Daniel was happy to answer. He was hyper aware as, when he began speaking, the back of his hand brushed against hers. “In Formula One, my nickname is the Honey Badger. Off the track I’m this happy, friendly guy, but on the track I’m vicious, like a honey badger. When my ex was pregnant with Oliva, my friend-“

“Another driver?”

“Another driver – he gave her the nickname little badger. She was the honey badger’s daughter, so it just made sense,” he finished, beaming. He loved talking about his job.

Y/N played with her fingers. “Can I ask another question?” She asked and Daniel nodded his head. “So, I remember you saying about your ex and the kind of things she does to Olivia when she’s there. Can’t you ask for full custody? Take her to the courts?”

It was something Daniel thought about a lot. His little girl was miserable when she was with her mother, of course he thought about it. But he knew taking her to court for custody of Olivia wouldn’t work, especially with his job. The fact that he was gone so often would probably be enough hand full custody of Olivia over to his ex.

So, Daniel told her this, in as little detail as possible. This was harder to talk about than his breakup with his ex. The thought of not seeing Olivia again was enough to send him to his knees, unable to breath. But he held it together as he talked to Y/N.

At the end of the playdate in the park, the four of them walked back to the car park. Olivia and Milo walked side by side, with their parents on either side of them. When it came time so say goodbye, the children held each other. They refused to let go as their parents pulled them apart.

“Good luck with your race,” said Y/N as she held Milo in her arms.

“Race? Momma, can we watch?” Milo asked suddenly, before Daniel could say anything.

Looking at Daniel, she nodded. The two said their goodbyes and got the kids into the cars, strapping them into the car seats and driving away.

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bunny584 · 6 days

Text

OBSESSED: TOJI

A/N: You’re booked. Busy. Filled to the brim with board meetings. Then your car decides to stop functioning. There’s one mechanic shop open and somehow they seem to only hire God’s sweetest eye candy. One of which keeps getting stuck in the back of your throat. Uh—I mean—

S/N: Toji Mother-Fucking (literally) Fushiguro. Idk why it took me so long to feature this green-eyed monster but I am foaming at the mouth for this AU, him, and his lil vampy co-worker. Toji girlies, can’t WAIT to rush Toji Tau Sigma this fall 🙂‍↕️

C/W: ….he’s his own CW. Mature, 18+. MDNI.

Art credit: yashaliart_01 on insta

Music: for the love of God if you don’t listen to Obsessed x Mariah Carey I’m calling the coast guard. Reader wants to pretend Toji is not her newest vice so BAD. Ive never laughed so hard and been so painfully turned on writing a piece. SOMEONE tell me not to make this a series RN.

“Can I get a little help here?”

Toji grabs the rag nestled in the back pocket of his heavy work cargos. Charcoal ink stains the fabric.

Bugatti engines are such a bitch. And make a mess like one too.

“Hello? Am I talking to a wall or..?”

And just like that, you’ve earned yourself a few more seconds of silence.

The mechanic’s Evergreen gaze and satisfied smirk peer back at him in the mirror. Not even a second passes before you ensnare him in your fiery scrutiny.

Ahh, yes. Just his type.

You are mean.

With a sexy fucking silhouette. An angry merlot painted on those beautiful, pouted lips. A fresh manicure and keys to your Benz dig into hips that have definitely stopped traffic.

The mirror image isn’t enough of a bite. Toji needs a real taste, so he turns around to lock eyes with his new favorite unsatisfied customer.

“Mornin, doll.”

“Nice of you to grace me with your presence! I was starting to think no one worked here.”

Melodramatic, the way you narrow your gaze to bring his name tag into focus. It’s hot, though. All this sarcasm and irritation.

“—Toji? Is it?” You hiss venom. Clearly there’s a point you’re in a hurry to make.

But..

it’s 7:13 AM on a lovely Monday morning. Birds are singing. The Red Bull he just downed was particularly delicious. Life is good, right now.

Toji has all the time in the world.

He’s in no rush. Especially when a stunning, uptight, bratty little thing — sorry, career woman — like you woke up and chose him to be your personal punching bag.

And he’s built to take hits. From fists much, much larger than yours, gorgeous.

“Toji, it is. What can I do for you, darlin?”

And he knew that sweet, innocent pet name would dump diesel fuel all over those pretty flames.

You ramble off your full name as if he is going to use it. By the time he’s through with you, you won’t have any use for it either.

His name, though. You’ll have plenty use for his name.

“…and when the stupid thing turns on this morning, the dash light won’t turn off.”

Toji lands on earth just in time to clasp the car keys shoved into his chest. You’re gawking at him. Expecting a fury of motion and urgency. Because your charming little fingers demand it.

So accustomed to time stopping and starting on your watch, aren’t you?

“You’re so pretty.” Toji responds with a shit eating grin.

Just for the huffing and puffing you’re currently displaying. Sputtering about how unprofessional he is. And how much work you have to get done.

Adorable.

Toji slips past your disdain and makes his way to the front door. Matte black G-Wagon with a champagne interior. The vision of you behind the wheel, scowling at traffic, in your tailored dress and stilettos makes his cock twitch.

“She’s a beauty.” He calls from the driver seat.

“That’s why I bought it. Can you please pick up the pace a little?”

Both arms are folded across your chest, eyes rolling at his wasted breath stating the obvious.

You’re going to look phenomenal when he has those defiant arms pinned above your head. He’ll diminish those daggers in your eyes to tears. And make those puffy lips whimper for mercy.

Toji will have you begging him to pick up the pace in no time. Your snarky comment was just a test run.

The mechanic lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scan the dash for the source of your apparent distress.

The tire pressure gauge.

Really, gorgeous? This is why you’re screwed so tightly this morning?

It should take approximately 3 minutes to fix. But there’s no way Toji is letting you slip away from his skilled fingers so easily. Not when you need to be unwound.

Unraveled bit by bit until you’re a warm, sweet, puddle of manners and gratitude.

“Alright, babydoll—“

“My name is—“

“I’ll have my guys get to workin on it, sweetheart.”

He can play this game all day. You scoff. Temporarily placated by his promise of a fix.

“It’s an all day job, though.” Toji’s right hand man comes into view.

The only other guy in the shop (on the planet) to get as much play as he does without meaning to.

Women are insane about his stupid, empty-headed, love-drunk stare. And the purple rings around his eyes like the last time he got sleep was in his mother’s womb. Always giggling and asking about “the hot one with the pigtails” and “the pretty one with the tattoo on his nose.”

If he were a less confident man, Toji would’ve called someone else over. But the kid gets his antics.

And today is going to be stuffed with them.

“Choso! Can you take this beauty to the back for repair?”

Dracula’s first born is sporting his hair down today. Already a bit damp from work. He gives you a once over, then offers a smile that evaporates underwear off of women.

“Happy to. Which beauty am I taking to the back?”

“Ha, quit your lover boy shit.” Toji teases, and you sneer at his hypocrisy.

“The car, big guy. Have it ready by 5:00, yeah?”

“5:00 pm?” You do a thing with your hands eventually landing on your hips. And Toji’s dick leaks like a virgin.

“Well, there must be a courtesy rental. My first meeting starts in an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, miss. We don’t have that.”

Kamo, you slick fuck.

Choso apologizes with his signature puppy-eyes and half open mouth. Even you, made of sharp words and soft curves. Goddess of Fire and Ice, you melt under his gaze.

Toji snickers to himself, while you stutter to a shockingly patient understanding.

Something about the boy looking half asleep and like he can’t string letters together to spell his own name always does the trick. Leaving you wide open for the kill.

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Toji moves in with an assassin’s expertise.

“Consider me your courtesy rental.”

“I’m sorry—what?” You flicker between the two smiles, rightfully suspicious.

“I’ll get you from point A to point B, safe and sound.” The mechanic offers again with a broad smile, dangling his own car keys in his hand.

Pensive eyes drop down to your watch. Board meetings start soon and he is offering a courtesy ride.

“Fine.” Finally, a little submission.

“It’s a 10 minute drive. The high rise on the corner of Koen and Mitake street.”

The financial district. No wonder why you’re so tightly wound.

“I know exactly, where we are going.” Toji beams. Beating your slender fingers to the passenger door. You barely mutter a ‘thanks’ before settling into the seat.

You in your heels. And suit jacket. And handbag that costs enough to feed a large family for 6 months. Nestled so perfectly into his passenger seat. Toji can’t help but acknowledge how hard his dick is right now.

The career woman clearly doesn’t approve of how fast he is hurling down corner streets. But you should understand, no? Places to be, and all that jazz?

“Uh, I’m sorry, where exactly are you taking me?” You perk up. Darting those beautiful warm eyes at the very short building in front of you.

Not the corner of Koen and Mitake street, but Toji’s favorite coffee shop about 3 blocks over. The only place in the city that can get an Americano right - La Parisian.

Toji grins maniacally. Pulling his sports car into a front row spot.

“Point A, darlin.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you are playing but I swear—“

“C’monnn. Lighten up.” He turns to face your incredulous expression. You wear it well, by the way.

“People stand when you walk in a room.” He continues. “They’ll still stand if you’re 5 minutes late and properly caffeinated.”

Silence. Two huffs. A bitten lower lip. And one long, drawn out sigh.

“Fine. 5 minutes, max. Then I’ve got to get going I have—“

“Meetings baby, I know.” Toji finishes you off.

He steps out of the driver’s seat fast enough to be at your door before your fingers touch the handle.

The two of you walk in stride (in Toji’s mind) to the cafe. It’s adorable how you beeline towards the pastry display. Salivating over the various treats. Doing the thing women do, badgering the person manning the register about nutritional details.

As if your figure wouldn’t make any living red-blooded human being fall to their knees.

“What can I get started for you?” The barista probes.

“I’ll have a soy London Fog latte, please.” You flicker over to the dessert you think you’re leaving behind.

“And?” Toji probes. He taps the glass in front of the vanilla macaroon.

Another crack in the shield. You flash him a genuine smile for 0.04 seconds before turning back to the register.

“…and a vanilla macaroon, please.” You’re cute when you’re sheepish.

“And I’ll have the largest iced Americano you can make, thanks.”

Toji closes out the transaction and you two mosey over to a small table by a window. Your shoulders relax with the first sip of coffee.

A satisfied grin tugs on your chauffeur’s lips. He knew what you needed the second he laid eyes on you.

Much to your chagrin, and Toji’s delight — conversation flows like a bottomless well between you. The second something warm and another thing sweet landed on your tongue — the shield crumbled down.

You’re an account executive.

You work 80+ hour weeks.

Live in an uppity neighborhood with a Doberman named Rocky. You got him because you like walking around at night to clear your mind. Having a dog taller than you on its hind legs and probably twice your size has eased your anxiety about that.

You have a mean sweet tooth.

And you’re single. Have been for the last year or so.

“And not looking to change that anytime soon.” You reiterate, tossing him a look.

Toji holds his hands up in feigned defeat. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweetheart.”

You’ve warmed up to his pet names, albeit against your will. But you’re there. The both of you harmonize light-hearted laughter. Fitting together like missing puzzle pieces.

“Your eyes are so green.”

A rather obvious observation of your own, after a few moments of comfortable silence.

As if your eyes don’t bend time.

Toji catches his breath before responding.

“They are…your kids could have ‘em too, if you want.”

You burst into another fit of giggles. Unknowingly driveling rogue pastry on your chin. Babbling on and on about how ridiculous he is. And how cheesy his pick up lines are.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there all high powered and intelligent. With a smile that makes him want to be a better man than he is.

…and pastry all over your chin.

Yeah.

He’s going to marry you one day.

Toji reaches over and swipes the macaroon off your chin. A sharp gasp tumbles from your lips, staring at his fingers. Which Toji slips into his mouth.

He’s a betting man and would put money down on the fact that the dessert tastes exponentially better off of your skin.

“Toji!!”

“What else can I do for you?” Each word more smug than the last.

“You could’ve told me I had food on my face!” Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you frown and Toji’s cock throbs to life.

“Why?” The mechanic shrugs. “I wanted to lick it off instead.”

The choppy inhale is music to Toji’s ears. You avoid him. Like the plague. Peeling your gaze away and planting it on the side window. Under the guise of people watching.

But Toji knows better.

He doesn’t miss the way you struggle to swallow your last bite. Or your thighs coming together so aggressively beneath the small table, rip tides break the surface of his Americano.

“I felt that, baby.” Toji leans in. Shameless about the way he scans your face.

Your lips should be outlawed.

The bottom one is marginally fuller than the top, so it naturally hangs a bit open. Inviting the most vile thoughts from his cock. Toji’s rational mind went to sleep the second you climbed into his passenger seat, princess.

“What?” You sputter, gulping down the rest of your U.K. cloudy cappuccino, or whatever.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Your voice is steady, but the fidgeting and cagey eye contact hold the truth.

Oh, really?

“You’re squirming in your seat.” Toji counters, unblinking. Filling as much of your personal space as he can without tipping over.

“Quick to cross your legs—“

“Toji!”

Is your underwear as sticky as your face is flushed? Saliva pools in one direction, warm pre-cum pools in the other.

“You are so out of—“

“All that talkin’ and you haven’t denied it once, doll.”

Toji’s palm digs into his crotch underneath the table. You are fucking his brain smooth with the raspberry blush along your nose and high cheeks. Sure, the sarcasm and ball-busting is hot, but this?

The Career Woman suddenly so flustered and shy?

You’re already thawed out. All he needs to do is dive in.

Toji blinks back to reality when you rocket up from the table at warped speed. Your fingers clumsily fondle the zipper of your purse.

“Excuse me for a minute.” You’re halfway to the restroom stalls by the end of your sentence.

The mechanic lasers down to the serpentine curve of your hips. Your plump, perky ass is just begging to be handled. It’s a felony, the way your work dress hugs your body.

Is he really going to do this?

Heat slams into his groin. Wave after wave of lust slowly chipping at his teetering self-control.

You might slap him.

Call him a goddamn pervert.

…and just the thought of either of those things makes his dick beat against his zipper.

Fuck it.

Toji is slick, how he maneuvers his way over to the restrooms. Both single-use stalls occupied, he walks up to you muttering some kind of pep talk to yourself.

“Get your shit together.” You spit out.

Amused, Toji leans against the wall behind you. Curious about where this cute little speech is going to go.

“He’s a rando you met at a mechanic shop. For fuck sake, are you that horny?”

“Sounds like it, baby.” Toji takes the liberty to answer. You whip your head around and crawl out of your skin.

Eyes wider than a newborn kitten. Mouth gaping as if you’re trying to show off how much you can handle. Toji swallows a groan. He can’t lose control. Not a chance. He has to savor his first taste of you like this. And every taste after that.

Because, the weather in Hell is a balmy 0 degrees Fahrenheit and you are his, now.

“I—uh, I—“ Your eyes dart over to the poor soul opening the bathroom door in slow motion.

You think you’ve found an out, gorgeous?

Toji is faster and bigger than you are. Gripping the handle of the open door, ushering you into his new lair. Still choking on the shock of him catching your admission, you look to your left and right before diving into the empty bathroom.

“Toji I…”

Your back hits the wall and eyes settle on your hands. Shifty and nervous. Toji palms himself at the sight of you caged in like this.

He’s disgusting, he knows that.

And normally, he would ask permission. Being a gentleman and all.

But there’s something too alluring about the way you’re trembling right now. The obvious conflict written all over your face, and heaving chest…and tense thighs…

His cock can’t take another second.

And apparently neither can you.

Because the second his fingers cup the back of your neck and his breath grazes your mouth you crash into him. Slotting your puffy lips into his, taking him by surprise for a millisecond.

“Oh, T-toji.” You whine into his mouth. Grasping at his shoulders that are far too wide, far too muscular for your dainty grip.

Fucking, christ.

Hearing his name like that.

The gorgeous, high-pitched, pathetic plea trails down his ears to his aching sex and jerks it. If his cargos were any lighter you would’ve seen the pre-pubescent mess he’s making in his pants right now.

But they aren’t. And you don’t.

You mewl at how Toji nips at your bottom lip. Sinking it underneath his teeth until its swells to his liking. Melting beneath his large grasp, currently riding the dizzying lines of your hips and ass.

“You taste fucking good, baby.” Toji mumbles into your warm cavern. Licking along the warm, soft ridges.

“Ah-T..god.” You pull away and dive into his neck. Attempting to hide your utterly fucked out daze, but he won’t let you.

Toji palms your ass with a tenth of his strength. You yelp and jump into his arms. He takes advantage of the momentum and lifts you high on his waist. Temporarily forcing you to look down on him.

Glassy eyed. Kiss abused lips. Panting and heaving. Cupping his face like your hands were made to.

And something tight clenches in Toji’s chest. It takes a moment for him to shake it off, but it existed.

He’ll revisit that later.

“You look good up there, babydoll.” He pants, before setting you down on the sink ledge. He catches your chin in his hand before you turn away. Rooting you in place.

“I…Toji.”

Moaning his name like you’re begging for him to start and stop all at once.

Your eyes descend to his lips. Watching the smirk blossoming across his face. Distracted enough not to notice his free hand shove up your dress in one swift motion.

Your thighs recognize his authority and melt wide open for him. He kisses your tiny whimpers while nestling between them.

“Mmmgh g-god please.”

“This why you were so bratty this mornin baby?”

Toji’s index and long fingers stroke your soaked, clothed core. Thin lace panties plastered to your warm sex. You wind your hips into his fingers. Batting your eyelashes up at him as if he’s going to give you what you want so easily.

He hovers his lips over yours. Pulling away each time you lunge forward for a kiss. Pouty and frustrated, you dig your nails into his neck and grind along his stationary fingers.

“T-Toji, please…I’m so..ahh.”

“Needy cunt just wanted some attention, mm?”

His fingers slip past your opening, and you offer up a soprano moan that shatters to stardust.

Hedonistic noises fill the spaces between both of your punched out gasps. You’re fucking tight. Gummy, slick walls clamp down around his knuckles when he curves up to pet your pleasure spot.

The steel pipe between his legs throbs against his thigh. Demanding friction. But one hand is cupping your chin and the other is so pussy drunk an army couldn’t pry his fingers away.

“T..I—I’m oh fuck I—“

Toji bites down on your bottom lip. And you clench around him. Gushing more of your sweet arousal into his palm. And he damn near laps it up with his greedy tongue.

“Shhh baby,” he coos against your jaw.

“Can’t have everyone hearing the Executive getting fucked open by some mechanic’s hands can you?”

There is a delicious irony in you treating him like a punching bag no more than an hour ago and now bucking your hips on his fingers, chasing an ever elusive high.

Sandpaper lines Toji’s throat.

He wants nothing more than to bounce you on his cock in this bathroom. Fill you up with his cum and send you to your meetings full of him.

But you haven’t learned your lesson yet.

“What did I promise baby?” Toji strains in your ear. His hand migrates from your chin to your neck, while his fingers ‘pick up the pace a little.’

His pretty little powerhouse.

You babble a chorus of nothing. Unable to breathe, unable to think. Only drip. And leak. And squelch around his digits. Toji tightens the grip around your pulse point. Lulling your mouth open.

“Talk to me, princess. What did I promise you?” He probes again, stealing air from your lungs.

Tha—y-you would…p—point A.” Barely audible syllables tumble out of you. Ascending in pitch. Your hips reflexively try to pull away from your threatened orgasm.

“Keep going, I’m listenin.”

“Oh fuck T..Toji?! I-Im c-im gonna—”

“I know, baby.” He smears wet kisses along your jawline. “ I can hear how messy your precious little pussy is. But I didn’t give you permission to stop. Keep going.”

Your walls spasm at his command. Followed by an angelic pitiful little whine. You’re close. So close.

“P-P-point A to—“

“Point B.”

Toji finishes your sentence as you reach nirvana. Full body convulsions. He slots his arms around the small of your waist. And it fits like it was molded for him. Like you were sculpted for him.

And he, for you.

The mechanic burns his gaze into your skin. Riding each choppy wave of your ecstasy. Such tiny, sexy sounds. Staccato breaths fanning his lips, his chin, his neck when you try to hide from his scrutiny.

You are a goddamn dream.

And his future wife.

Toji guessed it when the macaroon balanced on your chin for a full 30 seconds before he swiped it away and you accused him of defamation of character.

But now?

Watching you saddle this stallion of an orgasm. Clawing at his back with all the desperation of a pretty little damsel in distress.

Distress at just his fingers, alone.

What intoxicating melody will he unlock when he laps up the honey straight from your core? How will you gasp and moan and squirm when he single-handedly re-shapes your cunt to accommodate his size?

He has no clue.

But Toji will spend forever figuring you out. And mastering you.

The back of your neck fits beautifully into his grasp as he coaxes you from hiding. Pupils blown out. Cheeks flushed and warm. Tendrils matted along your forehead. Before he can speak, you beat him to the punch.

Of course you do.

“I’ve decided,” You pant. The baseline spice returning to your grin.

“That you might just be obsessed with me, Toji.”

Both of you share a hushed laugh. Exchanging cotton candy breaths. But then his lips accidentally brush yours and Toji can’t help but dive in for a kiss. Fucking the warm cavern of your mouth with his tongue.

You pull away before he’s ready, with a look on your face that makes him feel like a God.

“I might be.” Toji whispers, partially against his will. His lips find the corner of your mouth. Careful to avoid falling victim to your pout again.

“Let’s get you to the other point B, baby.”

The car ride to your office could make anyone queasy.

Constant banter back and forth. Full bodied laughs. You mindlessly stroking his forearm with those angelic fingers riling his cock up as if it just now discovered women.

You let out a small sigh, with slightly dropped shoulders when your office building comes into view. Toji doesn’t know how to interpret it. But for him? Reality is coming too quickly.

“So,” You start once the both of you are out of the car. Pretty face tilting up and Toji’s dick strains against its confines.

“What do I owe you, Mr. Fushiguro?”

The way you say his name.

It takes the will of God for Toji to bite back his original response.

“Nothin, doll.” He’s wearing the same, dumb, love-struck face Choso wears on a daily basis. Shockingly, Toji couldn’t care less.

“The tires just needed air. Choso will drop it off in an hour.”

He would do it himself. But the urge to park in an empty lot and abuse the fuck out of his cock until a shred of clarity re-settles in his mind is a tad bit overwhelming, sweetheart.

Then your mouth drops in an incredulous ‘Oh’ and all Toji can picture is ruining the back of your throat. How pretty you are going to be wretching around his girth. Gasping for air. Choking on his cum.

“Toji. Fushiguro.” You like using his name, don’t you?

“You held me hostage for a whole morning for some air—“

Toji kisses the rest of your complaints off your tongue. And you whine. Slot open for him with no resistance. Because under all that irritation and sarcasm, buried within the Trojan Horse, lays your supple, delectable submission.

And he will take every opportunity to taste it.

“I had a great time on our first date, babydoll.” Toji rasps against your swollen lips.

The raging erection is threatening to embarrass him. There’s not enough restraint in the world to be around you any longer. Toji nestles your voice in his back pocket. The two of you watch each other with wordless, taken aback smiles as he takes slow steps toward his sports car.

Before the mechanic sinks into the driver’s seat, he makes a promise.

“Can’t wait for our second date, Mrs. Fushiguro!”

925 notes · View notes

cheolhub · 11 months

Text

EVENING GLOW — KIM MINGYU ࿐

summary. you’re having a horrible, no good, very bad day and mingyu wants to do everything he can to make it better.

wc. 4.5k+

warnings. hurt/comfort, overthinking, reader goes through it and cries a lot, allusions to having anxiety, smut! soft bf!mingyu, so much praise (it’s insane), pet names (angel, baby, sweet/pretty girl), reader is v needy and sensitive, a lot of reassurance, hand holding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, slight dumbification, creampie, V SOFT, unprotected sex — MINORS DNI 18+

note. because i love keir ( @jeonghantis ) and bc they deserve the world and all of the stars. also it’s really for anyone who’s had way too many bad days in a row <3 u are very loved (by me and ur fave). also, i lost sight of the plot half way thru this (very common reoccurrence in all of my mingyu fics) so i apologize for that hehsh. i appreciate ur feedback! <3 and yes, this is loosely based off evening glow by wave to earth <33333333 + @toruro i also hope u like this hehehe

bad days aren’t uncommon for you, but you’ve had significantly less since kim mingyu waltzed into your life like the klutz he is. he manages to make every day brighter by simply existing. every smile, every laugh, every touch makes bad days seem like a distant memory.

that’s not to say you don’t still have them because you do.

you still have days– like today– where it seems like nothing is right. days where you overthink every single thing in your life, ‘am i doing this right?’ ‘does he still love me?’ ‘does any of this even fucking matter?’ days where you want the earth to crack all the way open and swallow you whole.

those days are beyond harsh. they have you trudging back home with wet lash lines, cloudy vision, and a loud voice in your head that’s begging– pleading– don’t cry, don’t cry, please don’t cry.

and today… today felt like you went to hell and back. the second your eyes opened, you knew it was going to be one of those days and it truly was a series of rather unfortunate events. you woke up late and alone, you were reprimanded by your boss, you spilled your much-needed coffee during your break, your coworkers were much more hostile than usual, you got yelled at by clients over the phone, your personal phone died halfway through the day because, of course, you forgot to charge it last night, and then, the intrusive thoughts came. the ones that had you overthinking like crazy.

and it’s not like you could talk to anyone about it (read: talk to mingyu about it). your phone was dead and you hated all of your coworkers, so you were stuck. stuck in limbo, it seemed, mind plagued with horrid thoughts. everything good in your life didn’t feel so good anymore.

which is why you were practically in tears when you got back home, letting them roll down your face shamelessly as your hand fumbled the keys. you eventually got it into the lock– after steadying your shaky hand– turning the metal and letting yourself in. the second you shut the door, you press your back against it, head in your hands as you let out the soft sobs you've been holding in all day.

on most of your bad days, you can keep your tears at bay till you make it into the shower. but, on days like today, you just can’t and your sobs echo through the empty apartment, reminding you that you’ll be alone till your boyfriend arrives. it’s not the prettiest sight, though, so you’re partially glad that mingyu misses it since he gets home after you.

he usually does, at least.

what you don’t realize is mingyu is home and he’s wandering around the apartment with his brows furrowed, confused as to where the sound of crying is coming from.

and when he sees you at the main entrance with your hands covering your face, he feels the air leave his lungs and his heart almost literally cracks in half.

he treads carefully, slowly making his way to you. “...baby?”

you’re startled, choking on one of your sobs at the sound of his voice. out of mere embarrassment, you quickly wipe your tears with your sleeve though it does nothing to hide the fact that you actually have been crying.

“gyu…” you say with a wavering voice, doing your absolute best to keep up your shitty facade. you quickly feel your resolve crumbling as you both stand in awkward silence, so you put your head down to avoid eye contact. “i-i thought you were working?”

he ignores your question and counters with his own, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

you bite your trembling lip and shake your head, eyes still trained on the floor.

he walks a few steps closer, now towering over your trembling body, “c’mon, angel. tell me what happened.”

you take a shuddered breath, slowly raising your head to look up at him. he frowns at your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks and at the fact that all you can say is “hi…” in a nearly-inaudible, yet dulcet voice.

“hi, baby,” he whispers back, hands coming to cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping at your stray tears. “tell me what happened.” he repeats, a bit more demanding this time.

you deflate, “i just had a bad day… it was nothing.”

he shakes his head at how you invalidate yourself, “it’s not nothing if it’s making you cry, Y/N…” he gently reminds. “please tell me? i wanna help… if you’ll let me.”

you sigh, leaning into his touch. your eyes flutter close and the words escape you before your brain can process them. you tell him everything trying your hardest to not let your emotions get the best of you. it’s not like mingyu would care if you were crying and blubbering out your words, but you knew he hated seeing you so upset, so you refrain from shedding more tears.

you try to refrain, at least. you can’t stop the way they helplessly fall when you open your eyes again. “nothing was going right, gyu… my day was so bad that it had me overthinking every little thing.”

“i’m sorry, baby.” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “i’m so sorry i wasn’t there for you.”

you shake your head profusely, swallowing the lump you feel in your throat, “n-no! no, please, it’s not your fault, gyu, i swear. my phone died, so it’s not like you could’ve known anyway.”

he pulls away from you, hands coming down to hold yours. “what did you think about?”

you squeeze his hands, “a lot of things…”

“like?” he frowns, pressing further.

you look away, mumbling out a lie, “i dunno. it was a lot… i can’t really remember right now. ”

truth be told, you didn’t want to admit the anxiety-induced thoughts you had earlier knowing he’d worry. if he heard half the ones you had about your relationship, you know he’d probably break down himself. you’re well aware mingyu loves you more than anything on earth because he never fails to remind you.

but sometimes, the tiny voice in the back of your head– the one that says he’s too good to be true– gets a bit too loud and you tend to forget all his little reminders– all the ‘i love you’s’ he whispers into your ear right before bed, all the kisses he peppers onto your face, all the hugs where he squeezes the life out of you.

“you don’t have to tell me what you thought about, but i do want to tell you something,” he starts, a small smile making its way onto his pretty lips. he leans into you, with a voice so small as he says, “i love you. and i know i suffocate you with it sometimes, but it’s true. i love you so much. please don’t ever doubt that.”

you nod, sniffling, “i know.”

his smile grows, “and?...”

your lips curve up a bit and you whisper, “and i love you, too.”

“you better not forget it,” he playfully jokes, forehead resting on yours again. “you know i love you the most, though.”

you giggle softly, shaking your head. “you always turn it into a competition. you know it isn’t right?”

“i know it isn’t, but i do.” he confirms, voice tender and a bit hushed. “i want you to remember that the next time you think too hard. i love my pretty girl the most… more than anything. i’d do anything to keep you happy. wanna see that pretty smile everyday.”

the genuinity– the love– that drips from his words has you weak. the words replay in your head over and over almost as if it’s on a constant loop.

i love my pretty girl.

my pretty girl.

your breath hitches at the unanticipated pet name, remembering the sweet, innocent way it rolled off his tongue. you know you probably shouldn’t feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the way you squeeze your thighs together, pussy pulsing at the mere term of endearment. you’re almost sure mingyu can feel the heat radiating off your skin, yet he does nothing. he stands still, warm, brown eyes staring at your tear-stained face.

so you take matters into your own hands.

you stand tall and lean into him. your nose brushes against his and the proximity between the two of you closes quickly. i want to be kissed, your face reads– begs– and he finally sees that, obliging reluctantly.

his eyes flutter and his lips graze against yours before you take the lead and close the gap for him. as his mouth collides with yours, you feel warmth erupt in your body and you relish it.

the kiss is soft. gentle. it nearly has you melting under him.

but the longer his lips mold against yours, the longer his tongue roams the inside of your mouth, the needier you get. it’s like all your worries wash away. all the bad thoughts evaporate into thin air. all you can think about is the everlasting love you have for the man before you and the incessant love he has for you, too.

you untangle your hands from his in favor of pawing at his chest, nails digging into the cotton fabric of his shit and slightly biting into his skin.

you’re slowly, yet surely losing your mind. the kiss deepens and all the coherent thoughts you had minutes prior are being pushed to the back as mingyu is on the forefront of your mind. you’re overcome with need for him. need for him to make you forget everything. need for him to fuck you till all you can think about him and the way his cock makes you feel.

and mingyu knows this, of course. he knows with the way you claw at him and how you whimper desperately as if you’ve been deprived from his touch for far too long.

it’s why he doesn’t make you beg for it. instead he’s pulling away, watching you chase his lips while he breathlessly asks, “you sure you wanna do this, baby?” he looks so enamored with you. there’s no doubt you look like a complete mess right now, but it’s like he sees past it. past the tears, past the red eyes, past all the sadness.

“please,” you whisper, sniffling again.

he murmurs okay against your lips before grabbing your hand and guiding you to your shared room.

he diligently strips you of your clothing, first your pants then your shirt. his fingers skillfully popping the buttons on your blouse and slipping it off your body, letting it fall into a pool on the ground.

“so beautiful,” he whispers, massive hands immediately moving to grope your tits through your bra. “you’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N.”

his words linger in the air and you feel them. you feel beautiful when he stares at you half naked in your cotton panties and mismatched bra. you feel beautiful with your puffy eyes and snotty nose. mingyu makes you feel so beautiful even in your most unfavorable moments.

you whimper at his heavy hands, your own tugging at the ends of his shirt, wordlessly begging for the fabric to join the other clothes on the ground. he obliges immediately, practically ripping it off of himself before his hands are back on you.

he pulls your bra down, letting your tits spill out, kneading at the flesh with hearts in his eyes. a breathy version of his name comes out of your mouth–

and the sound makes his cock ache. his body yearns and begs to be inside of you. so much so that it has him swiftly unclasping your bra before gently pushing you onto the bed. he thinks it’s gentle, at least. mingyu tends to forget his strength so his gentle can be your rough.

it doesn’t matter, it never has. every single act mingyu performs for you is one that comes from a place of love. he’s a benevolent man, not a single malicious bone lives in his hand-crafted body.

“gyu,” you whisper, hand slipping in between your thighs to work on your clothed clit as he towers over you. at your own contact, you feel a shock run through your body and your back just slightly arches off the bed. “need you.”

he curses under his breath, suddenly unable to breathe in his loose house shorts. he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down and presenting his leaky, hard cock to you.

and the sight has your entire body going hot. you throw your head back against the plush pillows and moan out his name, louder this time, fingers moving faster against your clit– though it would feel so much better if he finally put his hands on you. or better yet, his cock inside of you.

“gyu,” you drag out his name in a cry and you finally feel the bed dip under his weight.

“i know, baby,” he whispers, hand moving yours away from your soaked panties in favor of replacing it. when his bigger fingers begin to rub circles into the covered bud, you gasp and let yours grasp at the sheets under you. “i know you need me. i’ve got you.” he reassures you, voice shaky as he notices just how wet you are. “gonna make you feel so good, don’t worry.”

but you don’t realize how sensitive you are because the second his hand slips inside your panties, his warm hand finding your heated cunt, fresh tears spring to your eyes. “oh, fuck,” you shudder, shaking underneath him.

“you’re so wet,” he mutters the obvious, fingers dipping in between your folds to collect your slick before pulling his hand out.

“don’t tease me,” you plead weakly.

he frowns, shaking his head, “i’m not– i won’t,” he tells you softly, rolling your panties off your body and down your legs. he tosses the cotton material over to join the other articles of clothing on the ground before his hands spread your legs open, displaying you for himself. “i told you that i got you, pretty girl, i promise.”

you give him a broken nod, squirming in discomfort.

his hand is back on your pussy in no time, tapping at your drooling hole with two of his fingers. “this still okay?”

you nod again, “yes, gyu.”

he leans down, lips meeting yours as he presses into you with his index and middle fingers. he’s quick to swallow your moan as he stretches you open, feeling the way your gummy walls invite and welcome him in.

your kiss is more fervent this time around. you can feel his need, the way he shoves his tongue into your mouth, messy and uncoordinated. it has you trapping his fingers between your wet walls, grinding with all your might against his hand.

you have no clue how he manages to multi-task, both finger-fucking and kissing you into oblivion, but he does both without fail. you whine desperately against his lips, one of your hands coming to wrap around his wrist in hopes to support yourself.

the wet squelching of your cunt fills the room and it has him pulling away from you for a second to groan out, “you hear that, angel? pretty pussy takin’ my fingers so fuckin’ well.”

you clench around him again, enveloping him as if your life depended on it– you feel so fucking good–

and yet you crave more. it feels good, yes, mingyu always has you seeing stars, but you need more. more of his fingers, more of him. and mingyu is probably well aware of the fact with the way your pussy swallows his fingers, but you know he’s reluctant about giving you too much because of… prior events.

you want that– you want too much. you want to forget about your shitty day. the only thing you want to think about, the only thing you want to be all-consumed by in this very moment, is mingyu.

“m-more–” you whine against his lips as he wildly pushes in and out of your messy cunt.

fingers unfaltering in speed, he pulls away from you breathlessly, lips wet and swollen. “more, baby?”

“mhm,” you give him pleading eyes as you whisper, “wanna cum.”

“fuck,” he mumbles, nodding his head mindlessly as if your words put him into a daze. his fingers pull out and his ring finger joins the two that are already covered in your slick. they push into you slowly, effectively opening you up. “how’s this, beautiful? this enough?”

you pant, clamping around the digits, squeezing them like a vice. “m-min-” you muffle your moan with your hand, more tears stinging in your eyes.

“no?” he asks, an endearing grin on his face. he maneuvers till he’s in between your legs, he moves further down the bed and your heart thumps erratically in your chest.

it’s when his lips wrap around your clit while he concurrently thrusts his fingers into your sopping heat that you let out an ear-splitting moan. you lace your fingers into his silky hair and tug at his roots without a care.

he winces and moans against you at the feeling, the pain making his cock throb against the bed.

your mind escapes you, melting at the pleasure. his tongue flicks at the sensitive, swollen bud while his fingers curl against your sweet spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge and you’re on the brink of pure ecstasy.

“s-so close, fuck, i’m close, gyu.” you babble breathlessly.

he moans again, tirelessly continuing his brutal attack on your pussy, but the sound waves of said moans shock your entirety and teeter right over the edge. your vision goes black for a solid minute, only a few specks of white in sight, your blinding orgasm taking your entire body over.

you jerk under him, back arching as you release all over his fingers, the tightrope in your tummy completely unraveling and allowing you to soak his fingers in your syrupy arousal. his mouth moves down as he pulls out and slurps you up obnoxiously, eating you out as you cum.

and you can’t stop shaking, not even after he’s pulled his mouth and fingers away from you. your body twitches and writhes like he’s been working you for hours and mingyu, astounded, has never seen you like this– well, he definitely has– not after a single orgasm, at least.

he shudders, body burning with need. the taste of you alone has his brain a bit fuzzy. “are… you okay? was it too much?” he manages to ask, voice strained.

mingyu thinks his question falls on deaf ears when all he hears is your heaving and tiny whimpers. he moves to clean you up, partially worried he overstimulated you, but then you make grabby hands at the large, flushed man.

he leans into your touch, allowing you to grab on to him, “what’s wrong?”

when he looks into your eyes, glassy and glazed over, he notices the hint of need. the pinch of pure desperation. he sees the way you wordlessly ask for more of him, how you wordlessly ask for him to just fuck you already– he can’t deny you. not with the year-long day you’ve had or with the way his cock is basically begging to stuff you full.

he pecks your lips and sits up again. a soft chuckle escapes him as you chase him for another kiss, but it quickly turns into a sharp breath when he looks down at your puffy, pulsing pussy. you’re crying for him, that much is obvious, but your pussy is just weeping.

an endless trail of arousal continues to drool out of you and it’s so enticing… yet it feels so tantalizing…

he feels a bit guilty for being this hard, for wanting to fuck you so bad. it’s in his good nature. you’ve told him countless times that it’s okay, that you need him, but he just wants to make sure.

“are you sure?” he whispers, so soft that you could almost miss it. “we can just go to bed if you’re not up for this, Y/N.”

you can tell that mingyu is fighting inner turmoil. you know he always feels guilty for fucking you stupid. today, though, you’re sure he feels guilty for the other things.

you don’t want him to. he shouldn’t feel guilty for something beyond his control, so you muster up all your strength and, in a wavered voice, tell him, “i want you… always want you.”

you hear his breath of relief and see the wobbly smile on his face and you mirror it. he’s quickly ridding his mind of the guilt and shame at your reassurance and lining himself up with your hole. he slides the tip of his cock between your lips and revels in the way you jolt gently.

“deep breath f’me,” he mutters, knowing you’ll need it. when he hears your shaky inhale, he takes one of his own right as he pushes into you. “fuck,” he says breathlessly. you’re still so fucking tight around him.

a broken whine bubbles up in the back of your throat and mingyu watches the way your eyes screw shut and your jaw goes slack. beautiful, he thinks to himself. even when you’re fucked out of your mind.

he finds the strength to push past the resistance, slowly shoving himself inside of you till his pelvis meets yours.

when he bottoms out, your face contorts and you’re spluttering over your words, “s-so big,”

he nods his head like he knows. “i know, baby,” he murmurs, sliding one of his hands into yours. “but you’re so good for me, always take me so well.” he whispers this time as he’s leaning down, moving your intertwined hands next to your head on the pillow. his free hand cups your heated cheek and he studies you for a few minutes, cock fully sheathed inside of you.

he watches your face change as you become accustomed to the size of him, how your contorted, pained face relaxes as the minutes pass. when your eyes flutter open and you whimper his name, “gyu…” he pulls out a tiny bit before pushing back in– something of an experimental thrust– and discerns your positive reaction.

he repeats his actions, inching out a bit more and sliding back in with ease. his eyes observe you intently, noticing every reaction you make as he drives his cock in and out of you, each one going deeper than the last.

his hand squeezes yours and his lips graze against yours, “feel good?” he asks, breath fanning over your face.

“uh-huh, so good,” you respond in a pant. “th-thank you.”

he falters a bit, but continues to deliver his deep and calculated thrusts. “why are you thanking me, angel?”

“for taking care of me.”

mingyu’s heart swells and nearly bursts right then and there. his smile practically reaches his ears because mingyu, admittedly, loves being the cause of your pleasure. he’s a giver. he always has been.

it makes his hips move faster, his hips flushing to yours with every stroke. the bed squeaks under you, loud and annoyingly high-pitched. neither of you are bothered by the sound as you’re wrapped up within each other– you’re moaning and whining for more and more against his lips and he’s promising to deliver through deep groans and grunts against yours.

and he does deliver. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and it knocks the wind out of your lungs. you squeeze the hand in yours and your other comes to claw at his body. you dig your nails into the flesh of his arm, biting into him in favor of leaving crescent shapes on his smooth skin.

he hisses, but the subtle sting just spurs him on. that and the way your pussy contracts around him.

“oh fuck,” you whisper, a high-pitched whine following the words. you’re so sensitive from your previous orgasm that it’s making all too much. your body is buzzing and the familiar knot is forming quicker than usual. “mingyu– mingyu, i-i’m so close.”

he nods, breathing out, “it’s okay, baby– cum for me. you deserve it.” you deserve everything you want, he fails to add.

you don’t hold back, completely unraveling under him. you’re easily reduced to a mess, gushing all over his cock while you mewl a mantra of his name. your brain leaves you for a solid minute as you mindlessly babble out thank you’s and i love you’s.

he pulls away from your lips as he watches you come undone. he’s truly so enraptured by you. with your tear-stained cheeks and the drool that trails past your bruised lips. when you tell him you love him– almost incoherently– his dick twitches in your spasming cunt.

“i love you.” he groans, swiftly rocking into you. you’re sobbing in overstimulation, but he eases you with more praise. “you’re so good, fuck, so perfect. i love you so bad.”

his hand leaves your cheek, instead grabbing your free hand and intertwining your fingers. he pins your hands next to your head, just like the other, and continues fucking you.

“my pretty girl,” he murmurs, holding your contrastingly smaller hands tightly. “i’m gonna cum inside… you want that right?”

the question triggers your mind back to life. “please,” you moan weakly. “n-need it.”

he twitches again, a throaty groan coming out of him before he gasps. his entire body stiffens before he presses himself all the way inside of you. his groans and grunts distort to needy moans as ropes of his seed paint the velvet walls of your convulsing heat.

he attempts to control his breathing. after a minute straight of panting and whining, his heaving chest slows and falls into a steady rhythm.

“are you okay?” he pants, pulling out of you, body still hovering over yours. “was it too much…”

your lips turn up into a tiny, sweet smile and nod your head, “‘m okay, baby.”

“good,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing your lips.

he releases you from his grasp and falls next to you, trying to recover more before cleaning you up. he sighs, soothing a hand over your skin and you scoot into him.

“i wanna help you,” mingyu starts with the softest voice you’ve ever heard after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “you can always tell me when you’re having one of these days, baby… you know that right?”

“i know,” you nod, mindlessly tracing shapes onto his bare chest.

“i’m always gonna be here for you… as long as you’ll have me.”

“i know.” you repeat, words whispered this time. “you always make the days better– make them shine– you literally have a heart of gold, mingyu.”

he chuckles, “i don’t,”

“no, you do. just trust me. if we cut you open right now for open heart surgery, there’d be 24 karat gold in the shape of a human heart inside of you.” you tell him.

mingyu smiles widely. happily.

“just remember that this heart is all yours, angel.”

taglist 🏷️: svt : 🔖 @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol @miriamxsworld @enhacolor @jihoontea

#mingyu smut #svt smut #seventeen smut

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satorusugurugurl · 29 days

Text

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 2,055

Warning: Fluffy fluff! Happy endings 🥹💚

A/N: And with that, My Wedding Date is an Escort is complete! I am open to writing one shots for our fluffy couple if y’all have any requests! God this has been a journey thank you all so much for the love and support!! I hope you continue to enjoy my other series as well! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Epilogue:

Two Years Later.

Gojo stirred in bed, reaching for your side and finding it cold like every other morning. He knew where you were from the smell of cinnamon rolls baking downstairs. He fucking loved cinnamon rolls. Satoru walked out into your living room with a stretch and a yawn before strutting towards the stairs that led down to the bakery.

You stood there talking to one of your customers, handing them a bright pink box tied with a white ribbon. He stood at the top of the stairs, just watching you for the longest of times. You moved elegantly over the floor to the display case packaging and different pastries for your customers. Before heading into the back, one of your workers took over for you.

Seizing the opportunity, Satoru followed you through the metal swinging door into the back. You stood there, checking the contents inside the oven. When you had your back turned, he snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The sudden contact had you jumping at first before you turned to look over your shoulder up at him.

“Good morning,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Mornin’ Toru.” Soft lips pressed lovingly against his cheek. “I made you an omelet. It’s in the microwave.”

“Fuuuck,” he happily sighed, “I love you so damn much.”

Turning to face him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your lips. “Mmm, I love you too, Toru.” Satoru kissed you back eagerly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your flesh against him. “Ah, Toru~!” Giggles were music to his ears; he growled, wanting to do nothing more than toss your pastries to the ground and take you into the kitchen. “Satoru~ haaah,” You gasped as his lips hurriedly trailed down your neck. “We can't.”

“Yes, we can~” he growled hungrily, “come on, I'll be fast.”

For a second, Satoru could see your eyes searching for a place where you two could have a quickie. Just as you were pulling him to the very back, where the cooling racks would conceal you, the door to the front swung open, and Suguru walked in, duffle bag over his shoulder, backpack on his back. The three of you froze as Suguru glanced between you two, his face twisting into a look of disgust.

“Please tell me,” Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. “you both weren't about to fuck back here.”

“W-What! N-No!” of course, you would be the first to deny his accusation, quickly shaking your head.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, pouted, throwing his head back in dismay. “Such a cock block Suguru!” Both of his best friends turned to stare at him. The silence was palpable until Suguru groaned, his eyes landing on you, giving you the most disappointing look he could muster.

“Really?”

“S-Suguru, I can explain.”

“I should report your ass to the health department.” He teased, striding forward and smacking Satoru upside the head. “Stop corrupting my best friend, you horny blue-eyed freak.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, placing his hand over his chest. Faux hurt, painting his face as he furrowed his brows together. A look that didn’t stop Suguru from snatching a strawberry off the counter and popping it in his mouth. Not that it phased you as you walked back to the oven, pulling out a tray.

“I thought I was your best friend?!”

“Nah, I like your girlfriend more.” Suguru tossed a strawberry at you. “Even if she's a little freak, too.”

You placed the cookie tray on the counter, tossing an oven mitt back at Suguru. “Hey, I was minding my own business! Satoru’s the one that woke up and chose to be horny.” Satoru slowly smirked, nodding his head.

“Can't help it; seeing the cute pastry chef working in my bakery just does things for me.” Both you and Suguru turned to stare at him. “Wanted to bring you back here and give you an in-depth evaluation.”

“Gross.” Suguru chucked a strawberry at Satoru’s face.

“I didn't know you were my ‘boss’ last time I checked; You lived with me.” You put both hands on your hips, smirking as Satoru blinked.

“Live with you?” Satoru gaped, eyes turning towards a smirking Suguru. “Did I, or did I not invest in her shop?”

“Technically, he did.”

Satoru strode forward, cupping your cheek. “He just wants me for my pastries.” You teased, standing on your tiptoes and kissing him.

“That and your body.” he teased, kissing you back, growling against your lips.

“Oh my god, please stop. We have a train to catch.” Suguru grumbled, rolling his eyes at the groan from his best friend.

“Suguru’s right, baby; hurry and eat.”

Satoru grabbed the omelet from the microwave, pausing to look down at you. “Say~ you busy on Saturday?”

There’s a certain sparkle in your eyes, one that has Satoru head over heels. You tilt your head to the side, glancing up at the ceiling and thinking. “Hmm, I have a wedding to go to.” Satoru’s chest swells with excitement as he eats some of his food.

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm~!”

“Need a date?”

“Oh yeah, I totally need one.”

The adoration and love in your eyes mirrored his own. “Great, sounds like we got a plan.” He lovingly kissed you on the forehead. “Three days, sweetheart! Three days!” Satoru ran up the stairs, humming happily; three days to him would feel like three decades. Saturday, needed to hurry up and get here already!

Luckily for Satoru, three days flew by. His stomach fluttered as Suguru smoothed out his suit jacket. Suguru’s eyes focused on his best friend's neck, where he could see his racing pulse.

“You remember what you told me when you got back from Kyoto two years ago?”

“Uh, thanks for telling me I was a fucking idiot?” Satoru said before taking a deep breath.

Suguru laughed, shaking his head. “You said that which you're still welcome for.” The dark-haired man straightened his back before patting his best friend on the shoulder. “You told me you found the one. Then proceeded to ask me to be a witness at your wedding.” Blue eyes followed Suguru; he looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his jacket. “I honestly thought you were out of your mind back then.” Satoru was a second away from recording back with a snarky remark. “But, I’m happy to admit I was wrong, and you were right. She is the one meant for you.” without another word, Suguru pulled his best friend into a tight embrace.

“Suguru—”

“I’m happy for both of you.” Silence spreads between the two. “But if you hurt her, I will kill you myself.”

A knock at the door sent the two men flying back from each other. “Satoru.” Your mother peeked her head inside. “It’s time.” she has tears in her eyes as Satoru takes a final deep breath.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding date to get to!”

Two years ago, he received a call from a girl desperate for a wedding date. The same girl had proceeded to steal his heart over the course of a week. In two years, the two of you had moved in together, shared meals with one another, and planned a future together. A future that had come true thus far.

You owned your bakery, and Satoru helped manage it with you, being your number one customer and investor. The two of you happily lived in the loft above the shop, furnished to make it your home. Everything you both wanted had come true. Today, you both will finalize the plans that you had made two years prior.

Satoru stood in the gardens of your family's inn, decorated with vibrant flowers. He watched as your closest friends walked down the aisle one after another in pairs, but he honestly didn't care about them. All that mattered to him was seeing you.

His wish was granted as the official told the guest in front of him to stand. His eyes met yours down the aisle, his breath catching in his throat at your breathtaking appearance. Your wedding gown was elegant and suited you perfectly. Showing off your figure, he loved it so remarkably much. Your face was visible behind the veil, and your eyes never left his as your father led you down the aisle toward him.

Satoru felt his eyes burning as tears streamed down his cheeks. How was it possible for you to look even more stunning than you already did? You are like a goddess compared to him.

Suguru gently pats his shoulder, grinning as his best friend wipes uselessly at his eyes. He finally regained some form of composure once you’re standing before him, taking his hand in your own. His heart is thundering as he pulls you in and turns to the official with the biggest smile. He had told your mother two years ago that the next wedding they hosted at the inn would be yours.

And he had been faithful to his words.

The ceremony was sweet and quick; you exchanged your vows and beamed at the official. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Satoru threw your veil back, cupped your face, and kissed you as if the word was ending.

The crowd cheered and clapped as you both held hands, running up the aisle and back into the gardens. The second you were away from peering eyes, Satoru kissed you again, and again, and again until pulling away with a happy sigh. You felt lighter than air as his cerulean eyes roamed over your face.

“I think that was the best wedding date I’ve ever been on.” You proudly announced as he intertwined your fingers.

“Is that so, Mr. Gojo?” Your husband perks up, eyes darting down at you with sparkles in them.

“Why yes, Mrs. Gojo, it was.” You giggle at the use of your new last name. “Ooh, someone likes that new name~!!”

You shake your head, grinning softly. “No, I don't like it.” For a moment, you think Satoru is about to die of shock. “I love it!”

Satoru breathed a sigh of relief before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you as passionately as he could. With wide eyes, you moan into the kiss as he pushes the toy back against the wall of the inn. One hand grabs your hip, and the other remains on your face. You melt against him as he pulls back, your hot, desperate breath mingling together before he squeezes your hip, meeting your lips again, this time with a gentler kiss.

“And I love you. I hope you got enough sleep in the last two years, because I plan on showing you how much I love you on our honeymoon.”

“Oh my god, Toru~!” A squeal of pure joy rocks through you as he lifts you up carrying you across the gardens towards the photographers.

“Hey~ save that for the honeymoon suite baby~!” Your giggled as you both took the steps towards you very long and happy marriage. A marriage that all started with a wedding date.

Tag List:

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovley212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator @bloopsstuff @pepepepepopopopo @pandoness @sw33cadav3r @rixo-19 19 @meguvmii @sxnkuna @mmeerraa @lemonintrovert01 @bunny-lily @kibananya @kamastar39 @rjreins @lzaj19 @tiredflame132 @manyno @oliiper @rengokushair @simp-plague @matchalatte06 @haesify @majanggeum @solarrexplosion @tbzzluvr @username23345 @demonboyssss @sakui1 @strychnynegirl

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

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The Witch's Bodyguard

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda is in need of a new bodyguard and you are called upon to fill in.

Word Count:

Warnings: None this is just a set up and establish chapter

A/N: I'm so glad you're all looking forward to this series!

Wanda Maximoff; sure you'd heard the name before. She was one of the top celebrities around. You didn't pay any of it much mind as you worked security at a gala. Your manager had asked you to work there since she'd be there talking about contracts with people. She had other bodyguards under her, but she always favored you.

“Y/N?” You hear your manager, Val, called out as you stand on the balcony making you turn towards her. Next to her was Wanda Maximoff, you'd seen her around talking with a handful of others like Natasha Romanoff and Kate Bishop.

“What's up Val? Everything okay?” You ask immediately going into guard mode. She chuckles a bit, putting a hand on your bicep.

“Calm down. Nothing serious. Miss. Maximoff here was asking about you when she overheard me speaking so highly of you.” You looked over at the ash blonde, you had seen earlier someone playing the trailer for her upcoming movie which explained the blonde instead of her natural brunette.

“Ma'am.” You gave a nice enough smile and held out your hand.

“It is very nice to meet you…” Her voice trailed off, leaving you to fill in.

“Y/L/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” She smiles and takes your hand. You see her eyes rake over you, assessing if you'd be a good fit. Currently you were wearing black army pants and a tight fitting black short sleeve shirt. As she looked you over, you swear you see her bite her lip.

“You said she's available, right?” Wanda looks away, back to Val, as if you suddenly don't exist anymore.

“Yes she's open right now. We can draw up a contract for you to look over if you'd like?” Val suggests earning a smile from Wanda.

“That would be lovely. Can it be ready tomorrow? My last bodyguard had to take a leave so I am I'm need of one as soon as possible.” You wonder what could have possibly happened for only a moment before your presence is being requested elsewhere through your ear piece.

“It was lovely to meet you Miss. Maximoff, but I'm needed in the main hall concerning a matter.” You take your leave with a smile, getting one back from both women.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You had woken up at 5am, done your workout, showered, and had breakfast before you were being summoned by Val for this new contract. Standing in the at home office with Val, Wanda, and a handful of lawyers and other important people from Wanda's team all gathered. You stood at ease behind Val wearing much the same as you were yesterday. Only difference was an army green shirt today.

“We need your signature Mrs. Y/L/N, can we get your signature?” One of the lawyers asked.

“It's Miss and yes you can.” The lawyer looked at the paperwork and Val then went back to you. “I told you to fix that, Val.” you hissed as you signed and initial on the lines indicated. You were used to this by now. You'd been through dozens of contracts with Val. You knew every word in the contract by now.

Your eyes flicked up to Wanda, feeling her eyes on you as you signed. It felt like she wanted to say something, but decided against it as you finished your signatures, pushing the papers back to the lawyer.

When everything was said and done most of Wanda's team left leaving just Wanda, Val, her manager Agatha, and yourself. There was small talk mostly of what it would entail. One of them being you'd be a live-in bodyguard for her. Sure Wanda had other guards, but you would be her personal bodyguard and she needed you at all times of the day.

You couldn't complain really. Leaving the old stuffy apartment you'd wanted to leave behind for a while now would be good. You didn't have to pay rent or anything. Food would be provided and you'd still be getting a paycheck each week. It was probably the best possible outcome you could have asked for.

“Well hire some movers to get all your belongings and bring them here.” Wanda spoke as you followed her down the hallway, her heels clicking on the hardwood. You took in the different pieces of artwork she kept around the house. Her home is mostly filled with white, gray, and blacks. The only splashes of color are scarlet hues every so often mixed into things such as a blanket or an accent rug. “This will be your room here.”

She opens a door to show off a rather blank room at the moment, but it's bigger than your whole apartment had been and it even has its own bathroom. You were a little in shock. This was a first for you being 24/7 for someone so you'd never stayed in any other celebrity's houses.

“Once we get your stuff here anything else you might need we can go get or order whichever you prefer.” You honestly weren't sure what to say.

“Oh thank you Miss. Maximoff, but once we get my things here I should be fine. I don't need much, honestly if I didn't have anything besides clothes this room alone would be enough for me.” She let's out a bubbly laugh at your statement.

“A minimalist. I like that.” She responds and you turn to fully face her.

“I did four tours in Afghanistan ma'am you learn to live minimally.” You tell her. She pauses a moment as if unsure what to say as she just looks at you.

“Straight out of high school?” She finally asks, but you have the feeling it wasn't what she really wanted to say.

“Yes ma'am. Did four tours and then met Val through a martial art class. I was trying to blow off steam in a healthy manner after coming back. We got to talking and she asked if I wanted to work for her. The rest is history.” You explain without giving away too much. You didn't like any one person knowing everything. She simply nods.

“Well if you need to grab anything we can go do that. Clothes, essentials, all the big stuff we can worry about tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Yes. You're supposed to stay close to me and if you need to grab your things then I'm going with you.” She says with a smile. Guess you were stuck with her now. At least she's nice. You've had to work with some people who aren't and you couldn't stand being around them.

“We can go whenever you're ready.” she tells you, starting to leave the room as you follow close behind.

“Ready when you are ma'am.”

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld @snoozingredpanda @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

#ley speaks #ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #actress!wanda #beefy!fem!reader #bodyguard!reader #bodyguard au #The Witch's Bodyguard #TWB

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fartfather · 3 months

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Audience of One pt.1

Satoru x fem!reader x Suguru

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Word count: 2k

Series Summary: When Suguru first walked in on you and Satoru having sex, it was an accident. But he couldn't say the same about every time after that. He's under the impression that this habit of his is a secret. But you and Satoru have known this whole time and didn't plan on letting Suguru know anytime soon.

pt.1 Info: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, PiV sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, hair pulling, choking, male masturbation, male receiving oral, praise/degradation, pet names (princess, baby, love, etc), established relationship w Gojo, aftercare, porn with very little plot

pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

It began as an accident. Geto never meant to walk in on you and Gojo during an... intimate moment. But boy was he glad that he did.

Planning to tell you two about the cursed spirits that he had just delt with, he walked to your guy’s room. Without bothering to knock, the knob twisted under his palm.

The door barely opened a crack, before he heard what was happening. His face instantly turned red and he froze in place.

Shaking his head, he snapped out of his daze. What was he doing? He needed to leave and give you two your privacy!

…Right?

But he just couldn’t bring himself to leave. As perverted as it was, he was enjoying the sounds coming from the room.

One particular moan from you pushed his curiosity over the edge.

He stood there for a few moments, in an internal debate. But his lustful inquisitiveness got the best of him, and it only took a moment before he built up enough courage to take a peek inside.

Just a peek.

The way Gojo was thrusting his cock into you, the look on your face and the sounds coming out of your mouth, it made Geto feel things. He had never thought about either of you that way before. But now, after seeing such a sight, there would be no going back.

You two didn't notice Geto peering in from the crack of your door, so it was no harm right?

At least that's how he justified it.

The only trouble was that you two had noticed.

Gojo lifted your legs over his shoulders and lowered himself closer to you. His forearms were on each side of your head and he dipped his lips to pepper your neck with kisses as he bottomed out into your tight cunt.

Between kisses he traced his tongue up to your ear and whispered, "It looks like we have an audience," his head briefly tilted in the direction of the door.

"Suguru," he clarified, making sure his volume was low enough for your ears only. Your eyes widened and before you could reply his cock hit your g-spot, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

"Oh, you like that?" he asked loudly with a condescending smirk, tilting his head slightly. His words has a double meaning- you knew that when you nodded your head, looking up at him with a pleading expression.

"Who knew my sweet girl could be such a slut?" he chuckled and shook is head, "Use your words, princess, I need to hear you say it," he raised an eyebrow waiting for your confirmation, while simultaneously fucking you into the bed.

“Yes!” You managed to choke out the words between all the moans that left your lips, “Yes, Gojo, I do like it,” If it wasn’t already clear enough for him that you enjoyed Geto’s voyeurism, then your words would certainly confirm your consent.

From Suguru’s perspective, this was nothing but your typical dirty talk. He continued to watch in silence, oblivious that his presence was not only known- but also welcomed.

Gojo pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, lifting your hips up to meet his and sliding his throbbing dick back inside.

"You want Suguru to see how good I fuck you?" He whispered as brought himself flush against you, “How much of a filthy slut you are for my cock?"

"Please, Satoru..." Your words were cut short by a gasp. Gojo had grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked your head back, causing your back to arch even further.

“Am I right?” He said through gritted teeth, pounding into you with a newfound strength.

“Yes I- Ah!- I love your cock,” you moan out. Legs trembling and face contorted with pleasure, the warmth in your abdomen seemed to grow as you near closer to your orgasm.

Geto's breathing grew heavy and the more he watched, the harder his cock became. He reached a hand down to palm himself through his pants, almost letting a groan escape his lips.

Gojo's grip in your hair tightened and his other hand found its way to your hip, using the grip to pull you into him repeatedly.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, feeling your walls flutter around his cock, knowing how close you were.

With the hand on your hip, he snaked it down to rub at your clit. And with the final thrust and rub, your walls clenched around his cock, pulling him deeper into you. You screamed his name, letting your juices drip onto his thighs and bedsheets below you.

In all your ecstasy, your eyes rolled back and moans turned into whimpers. As Gojo kept his grip on your hair your mouth fell agape. You looked fucked out of your mind.

"Such a pretty sight," he praised, letting go of you and allowing your head to drop forward. He continued to fuck you as you rode out your high.

As your high died down, Geto's did not. What a sight to behold.

He watched with an unyielding focus, afraid to even blink and miss a moment of your beauty.

“Fuck, you get so tight when you cum,” Gojo groaned while his thrusts began to become erratic and desperate, “You want me to cum inside you, princess? Hmm? Want to feel my cum leak out of you?"

"Mhm," was the only reply you could muster up. You were absolutely spent.

"I'll take that as a yes," he chuckled.

He gave a few more thrusts before bottoming out into your pussy, releasing his load and filling you up to the brim. His head tilted back and his jaw dropped as he released a drawn out moan.

Gojo leaned over and kissed the top of your head as his hips slowly rocked to a stop. "You did so good, baby. So good," he whispered against the top of your head and pulled out, admiring the sight before him.

"Look at what a mess you made," he smirked.

You giggled lightly and slumped into the bed as Gojo released your hips, the exhaustion beginning to settle in.

Meanwhile, Geto remailed outside your bedroom door with a mixture of shock and craving.

A new found want was burning inside him. He had to have you, too.

He watched as Gojo gently took care of you and helped clean you up.

He felt guilty, but not for the reason you would think. Instead his guilt stemmed from the desire to take care of you and give you the aftercare you deserved too- as a way to show his appreciation for the sight he witnessed.

But he obviously wouldn't do that. Not now, at least.

Eventually, Geto pulled himself away from the crack of your bedroom door with great reluctance.

"Maybe one day," he muttered to himself, walking down the hall.

Maybe one day he'd have his chance with you. But until then, he'll have to make due with his fantasies. And the occasional secret attendance to your bedroom performances.

He was already looking forward to the next time another opportunity presented, the guilt now completely replaced with lust.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

As much as Geto didn't want to admit it, he had become addicted. Addicted to the feeling he got from watching you and Gojo.

There was something so invigorating about watching someone fuck, especially when it's your two best friends.

He felt bad at first, knowing that this was wrong. But he just couldn't stay away.

And now, after weeks of constant visits to your bedroom, his addiction had grown to something more.

He had no clue that you and Gojo knew of his presence. He had no clue that you two now purposely left your door cracked open.

No, Geto thought this was his own dirty little secret. And you and Gojo planned to keep it that way.

"Fuck!" Gojo moaned out, your name slipping past his lips.

His head was thrown back and his lips were parted, allowing all his sounds of pleasure to slip past them.

Your head was bobbing up and down as you sucked Gojo's cock, hands stroking his base. You hummed around his cock in response, sending vibrations up his body and pulling another loud groan from his mouth.

Geto had already been outside your door for a few minutes, but this was the first time he's ever seen you give Gojo a blowjob. It was a sight that made his pants tighten almost immediately, with precum staining his boxers.

He wanted so badly to be able to reach into his pants and relieve himself, but he didn't want to risk making any noise. He'd have to wait until he got back to his own room to jerk himself off, but it was worth it.

Every time it was worth it.

"God, just like that," Gojo praised, his fingers laced through your hair and pulled gently. Your hands moved to his thighs and you continued to bob your head up and down his cock.

You squeezed his legs as you pushed yourself further and further each time, letting the muscles of your throat relax until you could take his whole length.

"F-fuck," he groaned. His hips bucked involuntarily and he held his breath as he tried his best to control himself, but failed.

The sensation was too overwhelming, and Gojo quickly found himself tipping on the edge of his climax.

He was close, so close. You could feel his cock twitch against your tongue. Your name slipped from his mouth, over and over, in between his strangled moans.

And when he finally came, Geto watched as Gojo's eyes squeezed shut and his chest heaved.

Your mouth stayed wrapped around his cock as his release filled your throat. And you made sure to swallow every drop while watching Gojo’s blissed expression.

The sight almost had Geto moaning, which he quickly stifled by biting his bottom lip. That was a close call.

As the two of you were left panting, Geto silently slipped away from your bedroom door and retreated to his own room.

Once he got there, his pants were quickly undone and thrown off.

As he slipped off his boxers, he couldn’t help but wonder if this habit of his was becoming too much.

But then the image of you kneeling over Gojo’s cock- ass up in the air while you sucked him off- quickly dissolved any hesitation.

He began stroking himself at the memory. And it wasn't long before his mind wandered further.

He thought about how good you'd look sitting on his cock. How you'd feel bouncing up and down. How he’d love to take his time with you, tasting every part of your sweet body.

God, he wanted you so bad. No- he needed you. And as he imagined you moaning his name, a moan of his own slipped past his lips.

His hand stroked faster and harder until his orgasm was upon him. His mouth fell agape as ropes of cum spurted onto his fist.

As he slowly came down from his high reality began to set in. He let out a deep sigh and ran his clean hand through his hair.

Geto knew this wasn’t healthy. He knew his actions were wrong. But that didn’t stop him. In fact, the knowledge that what he was doing was so wrong was half the fun.

So what if he was addicted to watching his best friends fuck? What harm was there in that?

All he knew was that he yearned to be a part of it, to experience the intimacy shared between you and Gojo. But until then, he was more than content to observe from the sidelines.

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jeonsbabygirlsworld · 3 months

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SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖

#jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook x oc #jjk smut #jjk series #yoongi #min yoongi #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic bts smut

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politemenacephd · 3 months

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The Surrogate (Part One)

Miguel O'Hara X Peter B. Parker X GN!Reader (+18)

Part two Series Content: Planned pregnancy, Breeding kink, PinV sex, Oral sex, Threesome, Web knotting, Aftercare, Possible Angst/fluff.

Miguel and Peter want a third child, and apparently they've run out of options. That is, except for you, their friend and colleague. They offer to cover everything, and the pay is life-changing. There's just one catch: they went to concieve naturally.

notes: i am working on arachnophilia, shits jst kinda rough, but i started this a while ago, enjoy x

‘You want what?!’

You almost spat out your drink in shock, unsure if you’d really heard what you’d just heard correctly. It was a miracle you didn’t accidentally spit alcohol into your companions faces.

You were sat in a booth at the bar all the spiders went to in Nueva York when off duty. It was pristine and white like almost everything else in this world, with floating tables and neon lights adorning the walls in various space themed shapes.

You’d been here a couple times before yourself, but tonight was different.

You’d been brought here by two of your friends from the Spider Society; Peter, one of the older ones, and Miguel, the head of the entire institute and Peter’s very open partner. They’d been incredibly cryptic about why they’d wanted to meet, with Peter simply insisting over and over that it was important, that they needed you to hear them out, and though you’d rolled your eyes a bit as he followed you around the HQ like a lost dog you’d eventually relented to his pleading.

You were now very aware of why they’d been so cryptic.

As you wiped away the small dribble of drink left sliding down your chin, Miguel and Peter continued to watch you in silence. Miguel was fixed with his usual sombre expression while Peter beamed at his side, hands clasped on the table in an inviting, open manner. It was the strangest contrast.

‘Just, think about it!’ Peter said. ‘That’s all we’re asking!’

‘No, no—wait, so I heard correctly?’ you stammered. Peter and Miguel shot each other a look before turning back to you in unison. After some nudging from Peter, Miguel forced a similar patient smile onto his face.

‘Yes. You, heard correctly’ he said. You gabbed at them both.

‘I—So, you, want me to be your surrogate?’ you repeated dumbly. The two men nodded.

‘W…. why?’ you asked, your voice audibly wheezing as you darted between the two. The two men just glanced at each other. They seemed almost dumbfounded that you would ask such a question, like they hadn’t anticipated your immediate acceptance.

‘Well, we… We love the girls, so much, and—we just, we want another one’ Peter said. ‘It’s all we talk about at home! Every night, how May and Gabi deserve a sibling, and—recently they started talking about it too, and—we can’t tell them no!’

‘But, I mean—sure, that’s great, but Why me? Why are you coming straight to me? Have you guys ruled out adoption, or… I mean I’m just, surprised? Or, confused? Definitely confused’ you replied slowly.

‘Ah, no, we haven’t… ruled it out, per say’ Peter said with a shrug. ‘Just—it’s, hard to work out adoption when uh—’

‘Peter isn’t from this universe’ Miguel bluntly interrupted. You could hear the slight sadness in his voice. ‘And—with my genetics, and my background, it—the government would never allow it.’

‘Oh… Oh, I see. But, why me then?’ you stammered. You were on good terms with the two men, that was true enough, but you hadn’t thought you were this close. It was so out of left field as well.

‘We—ran an analysis on whose genetics would be best suited for the role’ Miguel muttered. You noticed that he looked embarrassed to be admitting this. ‘Because of what happened to me, how my DNA was spliced, it’s tricky. I’m not genetically compatible with a lot of people. You were, one of five candidates, and we believed you were the best.’

You couldn’t help but wonder who the other candidates were, but more so you were stuck on the idea of needing to be genetically compatible. You knew Miguel was unusual, but, that unusual?

‘So, you came to me first, huh?’ you asked, lightly stirring your drink.

‘Yes!’ Peter hissed. He was leaning in over his lap with his fists tucked to his chest, his eyes wide and desperate. ‘Yes! Because we trust you!’

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweet insistence. ‘Hey, guys, I like you too, but—’

‘We’ll compensate you’ Peter insisted. ‘We will! Miguel will pay WHATEVER you want. The entire time we’ll pay for housing, food, medical care. You will be absolutely safe. And, along with that, we’ll give you a full payment after the babies born as thanks! We’ll—’

‘Hey, hey, woah!’ You raised your hands to try and slow the man down as he began physically crawling over the table in his excitement. Miguel grunted and silently grabbed his collar, dragging him back to his seat. Peter squirmed a little in his partner’s tight grip. ‘I’m just explaining, I—’

‘Look, that—that’s all amazing. I just—’ You were silenced as Peter reached over once more to slap down a cheque on the table. You darted your eyes at the two men before lifting it up.

‘Holy…. Shit’ you hissed.

It was a lot. A LOT of money. Not so much as to be impossible or unreasonable, but enough to make your stomach drop.

‘I—you’d, give me this?’ you stammered.

‘Yes! For your labour and time’ Peter said. ‘Fair compensation.’

You paused. This amount of money was enough to make a serious, permanent difference in your life. You’d told yourself you could cope, that you could just put up with the status quo, but this changed everything. And what, all you had to do was carry their baby for nine months?

Peter leaned closer. ‘Are you, just not comfortable with pregnancy, or—’

‘No’ you said, eyes still fixed on the cheque. ‘No, it’s—fine, just… Are we, doing this like, casually?’

‘I’m willing to pay for us to both have lawyers. You can choose yours, so you’re comfortable, just bill me ahead of time for the cost. We’ll draft up contracts to be sure no boundaries are broken, and to ensure you have a legal right to what we say we owe you, and of course with clauses to protect your personal autonomy’ Miguel explained. Man, when he talked business he was so commanding, you thought.

‘Huh. Okay. I mean… I, I guess I, would be fine with that’ you muttered back.

‘I understand this would be a large undertaking’ Miguel said, his body leaning a little closer. You watched with wide and curious eyes as his arm came down over the table. You were fixated on the bulge of his bicep, nearly the size of your head now bursting from the seam of his slim fit shirt. It made you a little dizzy, as did the thick, dark hair across his forearm. You watched his calloused fingers drumming on the table, revelling in the clack of his talons.

Peter must have seen you eyeing him because he rushed to hide his smug smile. He knew you were giving in.

‘I’m taking it seriously. You will be compensated, you will be cared for. I just need to know that you understand what you’re getting into. We… Trust you, well enough. That’s why we’re asking you. We trust that you’d have our best interests as heart, just as we’d have yours’ Miguel said slowly. You nodded.

‘Okay. Sure. So, do we do invitro, or—’

The way their faces changed caused you to stutter on your words. They glanced at each other, their faces strained, as if they dreaded what they had to say next. Miguel pumped his brow once before turning away, leaving Peter to sigh and address you alone. Clearly Miguel didn’t trust himself to deliver whatever the bargain was.

‘We… Ideally, we, would like a… natural, conception’ Peter said, his voice dipping slightly on the word ‘natural.’

You felt all the blood rush from your head, only to rise back up and fill your cheeks with a pulsating warmth. Natural? Conception?

‘So… You, would want to get me pregnant—’

‘Physically. By us’ Miguel said. You hated how you shuddered slightly at his voice, at that smooth, husky, sombre tone. It slid down your ears like silk.

‘It’s just, our preference’ Peter explained with a lopsided smile. ‘Miguel’s not a fan of, sterile environments like an invitro lab, brings back bad memories you know? And—well we don’t like the idea of anyone having access to his genes, or mine, that’s bad news. Plus, it’s less stress on you, theoretically. No doctors poking you, or injecting thing, blegh. You know. You know, of course you know.’

You nodded along slowly as he spoke. I mean, it made sense. You had felt some concern when it was first brought up but they both seemed sincere, like this was just the best option, and they seemed so excited. You decided to continue entertaining this idea.

‘Ah… Sure. So, would it just be, one, of you? Like we work out who we want, or—’

‘Well, I mean, we’re not fussed about who the biological father is’ Peter said, his lip tilting into a shy half-smile. ‘It can be either of us. But, chances of success are higher if, we… both, are, trying.’

You raised both brows as you slowly realized what he was coyly implying. ‘You—so, both of you? You’d, both be having sex with me?’

‘Yyyyeaahh’ Peter said. His dorky smile was so annoyingly sweet, you thought glumly, especially on such a handsome face. You always struggled to say no to him. ‘It’s just, like we said, ensure it happens quicker.’

‘And you’re both fine with this?’

‘Yes! We discussed it before, I made the big guy go to therapy first’ Peter said, playfully tugging on Miguel’s arm as the man stoically stared into the distance. He was putting on a stern face but he was clearly endeared by Peter’s affectionate attitude. ‘Its fine! It’s easier, with you being a friend, because you know us and you respect our relationship already.’

‘I sure do’ you said with a slight laugh.

‘See? Exactly! But yes, we talked about it, we know it’s just business. Well, I mean—not to say, it can’t be fun, I mean that’s what they say right? Making the baby is the fun part—’

‘Peter, please’ Miguel groaned between gritted teeth.

‘What? What! What did I say?’ Peter whined. You stifled your laughter as the two bickered.

‘What I’m saying is, we wouldn’t expect you to just, lie on your back like a brood mare and, uh—just, put up with it’ Peter said in a hushed voice as he returned to you. ‘We’re happy to both be involved, we’re happy to, make sure you’re enjoying yourself too, just—we’ll work out the boundaries.’

Again, you nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in, but they seemed to understand that.

‘Just… Just, gimme a minute’ you asked as you picked up your drink. Miguel nodded while Peter went into a ramble about how fine that was, words which you quickly tuned out as you disassociated into your own thoughts.

It was all happening so fast. You supposed you’d have time after this to work it out, though, They said there’d be contracts drawn up, that would take time. Just… did you want to do this?

Having the baby sounded scary, but as they said it’d be around the clock care. With the head of the spider society and all his equipment on hand it’d be hard to imagine something going wrong. You did also trust the two of them, they were your friends and had proven themselves to be good men. Well, most of the time.

And it wasn’t that you were opposed to sleeping with either of them. They were unbelievably attractive, each in their own unique way. Miguel was gorgeous, a top heavy giant with beautiful eyes and such a deep and expressive face, and Peter had that sweet DILF charm about him. They both did, really.

So what was the hang up? Really, WAS there a hang up? It felt like there should be one, but, the more you thought about it, the more you realized you couldn’t find one.

9 months of work was rough, real rough, but you’d be cared for to the max. You’d be paid an extraordinary amount, enough to change your life. You’d be done and over, a clean cut single job once it was done, and supposedly you’d have your own lawyer to ensure you were protected.

Should everything go to plan… It sounded, almost perfect.

You just had to suck up the courage to lie down and let these two men put a baby in you. The moment you contemplated the thought, your face started to heat up, and you rushed to take a drink to cool it down.

“Okay. Ah, can I… Speak?” You asked, awkwardly calling back their attention. The two men turned to you in unison.

“Okay…” you said slowly, before taking another, conclusive breath. “Okay. I’m in. If—”

‘OH! YES, THANK YOU!”

Your response was cut short as Peter flung himself over the table and wrapped you into a bear hug, an embrace so tight that you could barely breath. Miguel simply offered a sympathetic, if slightly exasperated smile over Peter’s back, before helping to claw the man back once more. “Thank you, thank you- oh this means so much to us!” Peter stammered, ignoring your attempts to quiet him. You could feel other people staring across the bar now and it was becoming quite distracting.

“Yeah, yeah, just- Okay, I happy to start the process. I do want that lawyer, uh- not that I don’t trust you guys, but, like you said it’s a big deal’ you said. Miguel grunted approvingly.

‘I wouldn’t have wanted you for the job if you hadn’t accepted that’ he replied, idly glancing at his nails. ‘I’d only accept someone who was, well… Smart enough to set boundaries, even if we are friends.’

‘Right, right. Good. That’s- good’ you said. At this point your mind was racing. You’d accepted the offer, but, what now? It’d probably be a while before any action happened but the sudden, daunting realization that action *would* happen hit you like a truck. You glanced over to where Miguel and Peter were now deep in conversation.

God, they were both huge. Huge. Miguel especially was enormous, nearly 6ft 9 with that thick neck and toned upper torso, the glint of his chiselled collar bone gleaming beneath the neon bar lights. Peter wasn’t as muscular but he was still tall, nearly as tall as Miguel, and he had that quiet, unsuspecting dad-bod strength about him.

You felt your shoulders hunch a little. You had no idea what to expect going forward here, all you knew is that—

‘Hey, sorry, are you gonna finish this those?’

You jumped back to reality to find Peter pointing across you at the table. Your eyes slowly followed his finger, which you realized was pointing at a half-finished bowl of fries you’d got when you arrived after missing dinner. Your eyes shot back up.

‘Uh… I mean, probably not, no’ you said. Peter didn’t say anything more; he just made that sweet, pleading puppy dog face and tilted his head a little. You and Miguel both sighed in unison, but you willingly slid them over to him.

“Oh thank you—” Peter said before his words were turned to garbled mess as he finished the bowl. You turned awkwardly back to Miguel instead. “I’ll send the paperwork over tomorrow” Miguel said, pre-empting your immediate thoughts. “We’re in no rush, so, we’ll work out the details at your pace.” ‘Aha, ah- sure. Thanks. I mean I’m, assuming it’ll be a long process anyway, right?” you replied.

Miguel tilted his head a little. ‘You mean, the pregnancy? Yes, though, I’ve heard it goes quicker than you think. We’ll do all we can to—’

‘OH, no! Not like, the pregnancy specifically” you elaborated, hands now raised. That drew Peter to look up from devouring everyone else’s meal, his eyes curiously fixed on you. Miguel’s stony red gaze remained locked in much the same way.

‘I mean the uh… The, baby making process’ you explained, giving a shrug to try and ease the awkwardness of saying such a thing. Miguel didn’t flinch though; he continued to stare, his head slightly tilted. ‘Like, making a baby can take… months, up to a year even. We’ll have to work around that timeframe I assume’ you said, finishing your point in a rather stilted manner.

Peter turned to look at Miguel. The neon lights were blaring at his back, shadowing his face until his features popped. So sharp, so thick-set, so chiselled. To your surprise, he suddenly smiled in a way you’d never seen before. He gave you a smug, wolfish grin, flashing just an inch of fang.

‘Oh, no. Don’t you worry about that’ he murmured, his voice unnervingly confident. You blinked and watched with a burning core as Miguel leaned forward to finish.

‘It won’t take long at all.’

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